I think today we're going to go spend some money! Our dishwasher has a chronic flooding problem, plus it never did a great job of cleaning dishes. I think its day has finally come, and we're going to replace it. While we're at it, I'm feeling like we should ditch our existing fridge as well. It doesn't match either of the black/stainless appliances in the room, plus it's just a bit too big for the space and covers over the back porch/mudroom trim. I figure we can sell it on craigslist for $100 rather than have the Big Box store haul it away. Then when we go to sell the house, all the appliances will match. I think we're also going to get some laminate "tile" flooring, since the flood ruined the el cheapo laminate "wood". Since we don't anticipate any more water issues, the new floor will go a long way towards sprucing up the room.
Once it's warm enough outside, I'll remove the wallpaper and paint the walls sage green. The ceiling tile will be removed and replaced with drywall (the plaster is beyond saving :( ) once we replumb the bathroom. And we'll get new countertops and sink. It will be more modern looking than the rest of the house, but I think if I'm careful, I can incorporate some arts and crafts touches that will tie it in nicely. It's far from the my dream kitchen, but I think the results will appeal to more buyers without clashing with the rest of the house.
It's a hard line to walk. I had so many ideas and dreams of how I wanted this house to look. Part of me cringes at the idea of a "stylish" kitchen, and I feel guilty for doing something not quite in keeping with the house's character. But honestly? Most of me is glad to be doing something, anything, that will help this house sell. I'm also excited to have a kitchen that doesn't look like crap, even if it's not precisely what I had dreamed of. It will be clean, the floor won't be wavy and bumpy, and I won't be ashamed to have people over.
I'm so tired of living in a half-finished work zone, and I'm ready to get this done. Even if we live here for another 5 years (please God, I hope not!), it will be ready to sell. It won't look like a construction zone. I can get rid of my endless cans of shellac, denatured alcohol, and paint thinner and start really living here.
3/07/2011
3/05/2011
Making an herbal healing salve
Disclaimer: I have no idea what I'm doing. I got instructions from various places on the internet, then sort of winged it. If you do something like this, please do your own research! This is not a how-to, it's documentation of what I did.
I've been interested in decreasing our dependence on chemical medicines for a while, but most pre-made herbal remedies are expensive. They also seem to come in larger portions than I know I'd need, and I really don't want to spend all that money just for something to sit on the shelf and go rancid.
I have a huge dependence on Neosporin at the moment, owing to my dry and ever-cracking cuticles. I also see lots of cuts and scrapes in our future as Ethan plays outside and gets his hands and knees scraped and bruised from falls. I decided that the most beneficial herbal remedy to start with would be a healing salve. I placed an order from BulkHerbStore.com with this in mind.
Two days ago, my box arrived. I had ordered lavender, calendula, yarrow, and comfrey for my salve. I also got yellow organic beeswax to help solidify my oil.
I got a half-pint jar and put equal portions of yarrow, comfrey, arnica, and calendula into it, packing it in pretty tightly. I then added a bit of lavender powder for its calming scent. I poured equal parts olive oil and melted coconut oil into the jar until it was full.
I put the jar on a dishcloth in my crock pot (to prevent scorching), then filled the pot with water and turned it on "low". I let it sit about 24 hours. I've heard to "cook" the mixture for as little as 8 hours and as long as 48. I opted for something in the middle.
This morning I removed the jar and strained my herb-infused oil through a wire mesh strainer and a coffee filter.
I've been interested in decreasing our dependence on chemical medicines for a while, but most pre-made herbal remedies are expensive. They also seem to come in larger portions than I know I'd need, and I really don't want to spend all that money just for something to sit on the shelf and go rancid.
I have a huge dependence on Neosporin at the moment, owing to my dry and ever-cracking cuticles. I also see lots of cuts and scrapes in our future as Ethan plays outside and gets his hands and knees scraped and bruised from falls. I decided that the most beneficial herbal remedy to start with would be a healing salve. I placed an order from BulkHerbStore.com with this in mind.
Two days ago, my box arrived. I had ordered lavender, calendula, yarrow, and comfrey for my salve. I also got yellow organic beeswax to help solidify my oil.
I got a half-pint jar and put equal portions of yarrow, comfrey, arnica, and calendula into it, packing it in pretty tightly. I then added a bit of lavender powder for its calming scent. I poured equal parts olive oil and melted coconut oil into the jar until it was full.
I put the jar on a dishcloth in my crock pot (to prevent scorching), then filled the pot with water and turned it on "low". I let it sit about 24 hours. I've heard to "cook" the mixture for as little as 8 hours and as long as 48. I opted for something in the middle.
Once all the oil was drained and pressed from the herbs, I added a few tablespoons of beeswax and heated the whole mixture up again to melt the wax. I let some of the salve cool on a spoon to test the consistency. When it started to skin over within a minute, I let the whole jar cool. I must have gotten it about right, because when it cooled, it was about as solid as Bag Balm or Carmex. Not drippy, but not difficult to scoop out. If I had overshot, I could have added a bit more olive oil and reheated it. It's definitely more of an art than a science!
After cooling for about 45 minutes, I had this:
I'm not crazy about the smell. I have a sensitive nose, and I avoid most scented products. This is definitely herb-scented, but not too offensive (to me!). I don't have any painful cuts or wounds at the moment, but have a few small scrapes on my hands from my salvaging project a few days ago. One is right in the crease of my palm, so I feel it every time I flex my hand. The salve didn't completely remove the pain, but it's less noticeable. It also hydrated the skin around the cut, so it's not dry and flaky. I'll continue applying it to the scrape, as well as my poor abused cuticles, and see how well it works. It can also be used as a sore muscle and arthritis pain relief rub, so I'll be distributing samples to some family members to test. Results will be posted in a month or so.
3/04/2011
My salvaging experiment
We went in on Monday night to work on salvaging what materials we could from the little tudor bungalow. I had the help of two friends, my best friend's dad (AKA Dad), plus my oh-so-patient husband. We got a call from the demo company at about 4:15pm, then met at the house at 5.
My first surprise was that I had been expecting two days to work on the house, but the company told me that they were going to demo it on Tuesday morning. That gave us only 5-6 hours to grab what we could. I'm still upset that we couldn't get in sooner, since Shayne and I were both off on Sunday, and we could have gone in then. But oh well...
My first mistake was in not having a clear plan. I knew I wanted flooring, windows, and beadboard, but I didn't do a great job of organizing my labor. It took about 45 minutes for us to really get down to work pulling up the floor in the living room. Meanwhile, Dad grabbed a screen door, well pump, sump pump, a bathroom vanity and sink, and some other odds and ends. Obviously he wasn't wasting any time! Lesson learned.
I tried to get the beadboard from the kitchen, but had limited success. It was new, for one thing, and very thin. Since it was painted over, it just cracked and splintered when I tried to pry it up. I abandoned it and went to help on the living room floor.
With 3 guys working, the oak flooring came up quickly. Dad also pulled the antique toilet, which was requested by a member of Old House Web forums. Dad got the bathroom lights as well. Do you notice a trend? Dad is one mean salvager!
We tried the windows next. Our original plan was to cut around the windows, then take them out whole, trim and all. After Dad ruined two chainsaw blades, we nixed the idea. I started bashing out plaster around the windows, thinking that he could just cut through the lath and exterior wood. By the time I was done, most of the living room floor was up, and we decided to break for dinner.
After dinner, we started to pull up some pine upstairs. There was a bit of learning curve to it, and we initially started on the wrong edge. The boards are nailed through the tongue, so you have to pry them up that way or they splinter and break. After sacrificing a few boards, we realized our mistake and started on the other end. We got about 15 or 20 boards, which was more than I needed to patch the holes in the living and dining room.
Two of our helpers left after dinner, so things slowed down. We got a bit more oak flooring from the living room, then tackled the windows. Instead of removing them whole, Dad thought it would be better to pull the trim. That worked pretty well. We took out the sashes, then the exterior trim. The windows then just pretty much popped out. We didn't realize how not-secured they were, though, and we dropped the first one out of the house and onto the ground. Thankfully, nothing broke.
The second one went quicker. But in the middle of that, I went onto the little sun porch to start taking off the trim from those windows. I examined one, then turned around to go back into the living room and noticed a very unhappy skunk in the corner looking at me. Yikes. I tactically retreated and told Shayne and Dad that we needed to get out sooner rather than later. Shayne took another peek on the porch, and the skunk was now ass-end out with his tail raised. Definitely time to go.
We pulled the second window, packed up our tools, and loaded the trailer. In the meantime, we also took off the arched front door with its storm door and the half-lite kitchen door. By the time we pulled out the driveway, it was 10:30 pm.
All in all, we got 2 double-windows with vinyl storms, 2 doors, 1 arched storm door, 200 sq ft of oak flooring, 50 ft of 8" wide pine baseboard, 15 pine floorboards, a toilet, 2 bathroom sidelights, and a 3 ft tall door and frame from the upstairs attic.
The next day I went back, and the house looked like this:
I know we did well under the circumstances, but I'm a little disappointed with what we got. There was so much more in that house that was salvageable, but we just didn't have the time. And we didn't really know what we were doing. Once we conquered the learning curve on each task, it went quickly. But not quickly enough to get everything. And the skunk kind of threw a wrench into things.
I had high hopes of getting every single window out of that house. They all were in great condition, and we could have used them when we build our new home. Same with the oak floor. There was another 600 or so sq ft. And the kitchen cabinets would have been awesome. But we learned a lot, and I'm definitely going to do it again if I can find a suitable house.
And, even if I didn't get everything I wanted, I got the best of what was there. The windows we got had never been painted or refinished, and they worked very smoothly. The doors are very nice, and we got enough flooring for a whole room. Not what I was hoping for, but certainly much better than nothing.
My other issue with the whole experience is my disgust at the waste. That house was in perfect shape. Really. We could have moved right in. It was clean, well-maintained, and very cute. It pisses me off that it was destroyed just because it was in the way of some distant future progress. So much was lost, even though we saved a little. I feel guilty because I couldn't save more.
Indiana University is expanding into a neighborhood west of campus soon. All the houses there will be auctioned and salvaged. I have a feeling our learning experience will be helping us soon...
My first surprise was that I had been expecting two days to work on the house, but the company told me that they were going to demo it on Tuesday morning. That gave us only 5-6 hours to grab what we could. I'm still upset that we couldn't get in sooner, since Shayne and I were both off on Sunday, and we could have gone in then. But oh well...
My first mistake was in not having a clear plan. I knew I wanted flooring, windows, and beadboard, but I didn't do a great job of organizing my labor. It took about 45 minutes for us to really get down to work pulling up the floor in the living room. Meanwhile, Dad grabbed a screen door, well pump, sump pump, a bathroom vanity and sink, and some other odds and ends. Obviously he wasn't wasting any time! Lesson learned.
I tried to get the beadboard from the kitchen, but had limited success. It was new, for one thing, and very thin. Since it was painted over, it just cracked and splintered when I tried to pry it up. I abandoned it and went to help on the living room floor.
With 3 guys working, the oak flooring came up quickly. Dad also pulled the antique toilet, which was requested by a member of Old House Web forums. Dad got the bathroom lights as well. Do you notice a trend? Dad is one mean salvager!
We tried the windows next. Our original plan was to cut around the windows, then take them out whole, trim and all. After Dad ruined two chainsaw blades, we nixed the idea. I started bashing out plaster around the windows, thinking that he could just cut through the lath and exterior wood. By the time I was done, most of the living room floor was up, and we decided to break for dinner.
After dinner, we started to pull up some pine upstairs. There was a bit of learning curve to it, and we initially started on the wrong edge. The boards are nailed through the tongue, so you have to pry them up that way or they splinter and break. After sacrificing a few boards, we realized our mistake and started on the other end. We got about 15 or 20 boards, which was more than I needed to patch the holes in the living and dining room.
Two of our helpers left after dinner, so things slowed down. We got a bit more oak flooring from the living room, then tackled the windows. Instead of removing them whole, Dad thought it would be better to pull the trim. That worked pretty well. We took out the sashes, then the exterior trim. The windows then just pretty much popped out. We didn't realize how not-secured they were, though, and we dropped the first one out of the house and onto the ground. Thankfully, nothing broke.
The second one went quicker. But in the middle of that, I went onto the little sun porch to start taking off the trim from those windows. I examined one, then turned around to go back into the living room and noticed a very unhappy skunk in the corner looking at me. Yikes. I tactically retreated and told Shayne and Dad that we needed to get out sooner rather than later. Shayne took another peek on the porch, and the skunk was now ass-end out with his tail raised. Definitely time to go.
We pulled the second window, packed up our tools, and loaded the trailer. In the meantime, we also took off the arched front door with its storm door and the half-lite kitchen door. By the time we pulled out the driveway, it was 10:30 pm.
All in all, we got 2 double-windows with vinyl storms, 2 doors, 1 arched storm door, 200 sq ft of oak flooring, 50 ft of 8" wide pine baseboard, 15 pine floorboards, a toilet, 2 bathroom sidelights, and a 3 ft tall door and frame from the upstairs attic.
The next day I went back, and the house looked like this:
I know we did well under the circumstances, but I'm a little disappointed with what we got. There was so much more in that house that was salvageable, but we just didn't have the time. And we didn't really know what we were doing. Once we conquered the learning curve on each task, it went quickly. But not quickly enough to get everything. And the skunk kind of threw a wrench into things.
I had high hopes of getting every single window out of that house. They all were in great condition, and we could have used them when we build our new home. Same with the oak floor. There was another 600 or so sq ft. And the kitchen cabinets would have been awesome. But we learned a lot, and I'm definitely going to do it again if I can find a suitable house.
And, even if I didn't get everything I wanted, I got the best of what was there. The windows we got had never been painted or refinished, and they worked very smoothly. The doors are very nice, and we got enough flooring for a whole room. Not what I was hoping for, but certainly much better than nothing.
My other issue with the whole experience is my disgust at the waste. That house was in perfect shape. Really. We could have moved right in. It was clean, well-maintained, and very cute. It pisses me off that it was destroyed just because it was in the way of some distant future progress. So much was lost, even though we saved a little. I feel guilty because I couldn't save more.
Indiana University is expanding into a neighborhood west of campus soon. All the houses there will be auctioned and salvaged. I have a feeling our learning experience will be helping us soon...
2/28/2011
In which I actually do something house-related (!!)
A few months ago, I noticed that the airport had acquired a cute little bungalow. They've been buying up houses like mad for the past several years; they knocked down a half-mile of neighborhood to move a road and expand the runway, and there are plans for another expansion in the future. This little bungalow was in the way. Once the weather cleared up a bit, I went to check out the house. Not only was it cute on the outside, it was adorable and in near-perfect shape inside. Aside from the shaggy carpet in the living room, the house looked like it fell out of the '30s. The entire upstairs floor is pine, and there is beadboard everywhere.
 |
| Living room windows |
 |
| Original plumbing |
 |
| Beadboard sunroom |
 |
| Beadboard wainscot and original kitchen cabinets |
 |
| Jackpot! LOTS of pine flooring! |
They're doing a final walkthrough today in preparation for demolition later this week, but we can go in once they're done today. That doesn't give us a lot of time, but I'm sure I can still get some goodies!
2/20/2011
The uncertain future
As much as I want to move right now, obviously reality dictates that is not going to happen. I'm not sure it will happen any time in the next 5 years, simply because there is so much uncertainty in the world right now. The Middle East and north Africa is in major turmoil. Governments across Europe are implementing "austerity measures". And the United States has its head in the sand, with our leader telling us that we can save money in the future by increasing our defecit this year. Huh.
I really don't see things in this country improving much in the near future. I fully expect housing prices to decrease again (side note: housing prices from the 1890s through 1990s increased at an average of 3% per year. In order to get back onto that average trend, prices still need to contract another 20%. Ouch. Thankfully, that's a national average, not local. So we may only contract another 3-5%, since we were never all that inflated to begin with.). Loan rates are increasing. Food prices are rising. Gas prices are climbing. Unemployment is hovering around 10%. Remind me again why I should be optimistic?
I've said this before, and I'll say it again: It's so important to increase your family's self-sufficiency! So many skills from our grandparents and great-grandparents are on the verge of being lost. How many people know how to butcher their own meat? Render lard? Make soap from tallow? Use herbs medicinally? Grow and can their own produce? I can see that we're in the midst of a movement to regain these skills, but how many people out there are really doing it? By connecting with like-minded people on the internet, it sometimes feels like everyone is involved. And then I go to work and talk with people who don't even know how to cook something that isn't from a box. There are children who don't realize that food must be grown or raised and slaughtered before it appears in the store. We've surrendered our freedom in exchange for purchasing power; America has become a nation of consumers.
I'm not saying that there's anything inherently wrong with buying your soap from a store instead of making it yourself, or getting carrots from the market instead of from your garden. But when you buy something, at least do it mindfully: consider where it came from, how it was made or grown, the negative effects its production had on people and the earth, and whether it's something you're willing/able to learn how to do yourself. You'd be amazed at the satisfaction you can get looking at a few jars of freshly canned applesauce or a blooming garden. Seeing my chickens outside destroying my flowerbeds honestly gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. I raised them, they're mine, and they make food for me. All in exchange for my table scraps and a bag of chicken feed every few months. I'm grateful that we have started ourselves down the path to homesteading, especially with the state of affairs in the world.
I'm feeling very conflicted, though. All of the uncertainty is exactly why I want to leave the Prairie Box and buy a farm or some property on which to build our farm. Especially after talking with the realtors, I think about the improvements we planned on making to the house, and I just feel so discouraged. I was really expecting to make money on this house. Not a lot. We aren't house-flippers, and that was never the plan. But I was expecting that our sweat equity would translate into about $10K after closing. Looking at just breaking even after closing, even with 5+ years of payments behind us and paying extra on the principal... just makes me sad. I have a major "why bother?" complex.
I don't want to fix up the house for us, since we aren't planning on staying here. I don't want to fix it up for someone else, because it's not worth my time and money. I feel like I'm smacking up against a wall, and I'm not sure how to get motivated again. I suppose I just have to look at it as a necessary step on our way to moving. I just wish I could be excited about it. Maybe once we start making progress, I'll find some enjoyment in it. Hmmm.
I really don't see things in this country improving much in the near future. I fully expect housing prices to decrease again (side note: housing prices from the 1890s through 1990s increased at an average of 3% per year. In order to get back onto that average trend, prices still need to contract another 20%. Ouch. Thankfully, that's a national average, not local. So we may only contract another 3-5%, since we were never all that inflated to begin with.). Loan rates are increasing. Food prices are rising. Gas prices are climbing. Unemployment is hovering around 10%. Remind me again why I should be optimistic?
I've said this before, and I'll say it again: It's so important to increase your family's self-sufficiency! So many skills from our grandparents and great-grandparents are on the verge of being lost. How many people know how to butcher their own meat? Render lard? Make soap from tallow? Use herbs medicinally? Grow and can their own produce? I can see that we're in the midst of a movement to regain these skills, but how many people out there are really doing it? By connecting with like-minded people on the internet, it sometimes feels like everyone is involved. And then I go to work and talk with people who don't even know how to cook something that isn't from a box. There are children who don't realize that food must be grown or raised and slaughtered before it appears in the store. We've surrendered our freedom in exchange for purchasing power; America has become a nation of consumers.
I'm not saying that there's anything inherently wrong with buying your soap from a store instead of making it yourself, or getting carrots from the market instead of from your garden. But when you buy something, at least do it mindfully: consider where it came from, how it was made or grown, the negative effects its production had on people and the earth, and whether it's something you're willing/able to learn how to do yourself. You'd be amazed at the satisfaction you can get looking at a few jars of freshly canned applesauce or a blooming garden. Seeing my chickens outside destroying my flowerbeds honestly gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. I raised them, they're mine, and they make food for me. All in exchange for my table scraps and a bag of chicken feed every few months. I'm grateful that we have started ourselves down the path to homesteading, especially with the state of affairs in the world.
I'm feeling very conflicted, though. All of the uncertainty is exactly why I want to leave the Prairie Box and buy a farm or some property on which to build our farm. Especially after talking with the realtors, I think about the improvements we planned on making to the house, and I just feel so discouraged. I was really expecting to make money on this house. Not a lot. We aren't house-flippers, and that was never the plan. But I was expecting that our sweat equity would translate into about $10K after closing. Looking at just breaking even after closing, even with 5+ years of payments behind us and paying extra on the principal... just makes me sad. I have a major "why bother?" complex.
I don't want to fix up the house for us, since we aren't planning on staying here. I don't want to fix it up for someone else, because it's not worth my time and money. I feel like I'm smacking up against a wall, and I'm not sure how to get motivated again. I suppose I just have to look at it as a necessary step on our way to moving. I just wish I could be excited about it. Maybe once we start making progress, I'll find some enjoyment in it. Hmmm.
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