as bathrooms go...

A year ago, after a particularly stressful day, I decided - though not after much deliberation- to take a sledge hammer to my bathroom. I wanted to rid myself of this major design flaw since the day I moved in, but didn't have the energy, the motivation, or any idea of what to do with it. On this day, my teenage son was having it rough. I don't remember what precipitated his 'rebel-without-a-cause' attitude, but I decided he needed a chisel and metal mallet  in his hands.

Allow me to at this point to show you the 'before' photo of this master bath that came attached to the house. I don't know what I love more- the floor to ceiling tile or the toilet stuck in the corner. Or, maybe it's the opaque covering on the middle part of the piece of glass that is tiled into the wall?

 No, the best part has to be the fact that instead of a door, the door WAY was framed with tile on the outside with a clear view of the toilet from the hallway. Oh, yes, THAT was my favorite feature of this custom designed master bath.
One of the first things I did when I moved in was hang a curtain to obstruct the view.

Let's move along to what we changed, shall we?
That would be nearly EVERYTHING:

But I've gotten ahead of myself, so let's back up to the 'during'. This reno from demo to complete took a year, after all, so it's important that you follow the progress.

I tackled this bathroom demolition in stages, not knowing how far I would go. I knew I wanted to remove the tub, (it leaked and the jets never worked) and the tile surrounding it, including the wall separating it from the toilet. The decision to remove the tile from EVERY wall came later.  After breaking the tile off the bath surround, I had to loosen the tub from the wooden frame. 

Ripping that tub from the bathroom was possibly one of the most cathartic experiences I've had.
What's hilarious about the entire experience is seeing -- after removing the wooden frame- that the electric box and the water lines that were designed to connect to the whirlpool feature of this "jacuzzi" tub were never connected. That explains why it never turned on. The faulty plumbing underneath explained the leaks.
Glad to be rid of that monstrosity!

Once the tub was removed, and I decided I would put in a free standing tub, the next step was to remove the floor tile. After that, knowing I wanted to replace the large pane of half opaque glass, I had to remove the tile from that wall... then the next wall... 

and before I knew I had broken away tile from four walls leaving only the shower intact. 

Removing the tub and its surrounding material revealed another hurdle- above floor plumbing. 

Next step- find an affordable plumber to put in a drain for a free- stand tub and get rid of the above floor drain. 

DONE

In the meantime...a friend found glass bricks on a resale group on-line for the window space. It was not quite enough for the existing space, so he reframed the space to accommodate the exact number of bricks. 

Now to the sheetrock.... 

More demolition-- rip out the cabinet. I won't show you the yuck I found behind it. Trust me; this cabinet had to go. (and please note that the cabinet top is covered with the same tile that covered all the walls.) 

To replace the cabinet, I scoured big box stores for sales. I missed cabinets on clearance as they were being carried out the store by other customers. I followed links to nowhere, and considered antique pieces that needed to be refinished.
Then I walked into my dining room and noticed a dresser I've had for twenty years. Perfect. I decided to have only one sink so that I could have more counter space.

 … and skip ahead to the part where a friend from church comes to my rescue with a long list. From sheetrock and vinyl flooring  up to bathtub, he put together most of my bathroom. From there, the plumber brother of a friend gave me a GREAT rate to connect the rest of the drains and install the toilet and bathtub, WHICH was FREE!! … because I found an antique tub for sale on Craigslist, but when I went to look at it, the man practically begged me to take it home so he didn't have to pay for the rental unit where he had it stored! (sorry, I get excited thinking about that) 
My son-in-law trimmed out the sheetroock, and finished the spaces left undone, and added a door. 
The boyfriend of my other adult daughter trimmed the glass bricks. (can my daughters pick'em, or what?!) 

If I weren't so desperate to get this post finished this evening I would run back and take another photo of the print hanging over the tub. It's probably the element of which I am most proud.
While visiting a friend in her new apartment, I gazed out her window at the view of the green belt..
and the dumpster.
And there it was- this beautifully framed print leaning against the trash dumpster. It was in pristine condition with no visible marks or dirt. Someone simply grew tired of it, or couldn't fit into the moving truck. In minutes it was mine!

The wall lamps I found at Habitat for Humanity. A change in color with spray paint so that they  matched the existing ceiling light was all they needed. The mirror still needs to be hung, but it's always something, right? 

there is a pear tree

This house came with a pear tree. 

https://www.feastingonfruit.com/ginger-molasses-cookies/

Loquats

If you don't live in the south, you might not know that word.
Then again, you might have lived here your entire life- like I have - and still not know that word.
I ate my first loquat two weeks ago.
I had my first loquat cake the same day.
I had my first loquat jam the next day, when I made my first loquat jam. I will be making more loquat jam, I assure you.
Loquats, also known as Japanese plums, are free food, y'all. These yummy orange plums grow on the easements of the roads throughout the city of Houston. They grow in yards, and people ignore them, which I think is a sinful waste, let me tell ya. We need to be thanking God for the stuff He hands to us without us working too hard.

I used a recipe I found off the internet. I was surprised at how many popped up when I searched.
I used Pectin, but I won't next time. Loquats have plenty of pectin in the them.  Do yourself a favor; if you make loquat jam, add cardamom. Trust me.

spring shearing Ba-aAA!!

First step in shearing is to bring sheep close to the sheering area, keeping them comfortable and content and safe. We used the portable electric fence to move them from the pasture to the area behind our back patio, where the shearing professionals whom we hired can use outlets for their electric clippers and hold each sheep safely from flock while shearing the wool.

who is that grown man in my back yard?! (it's my little boy home from college on spring break. :o ) 

Little Dido wasn't sure what to make of all the commotion. But she loves belly rubs enough to not ask many questions.

I leave the 140 pound lamb wrestling to the experts.

The wee lambs will wait until June to have their wool sheared. They don't have enough skin protecting lanolin under yet, nor is their skin thick enough to protect them from the sun if they lose their wool. Besides, we'll have more, thicker wool if we wait a bit.

Cici was not sheared when she was a lamb, so she had an extra heavy coat from this, her first time. She quickly surrendered to the experience.

Even the ram was compliant. 

before and after

The wool of each sheep is kept separately wrapped in sheets until Harmony can get to it to clean, card, and make ready for felting or yarn making. 

With the removal of the wool, is also the removing of the lanolin the sheep makes to keep her wool water resilient. This lanolin is a rich emollient; I would love to extract it from the wool for hand cream and other skin products. Cici's wool is especially rich in lanolin, so perhaps I can preserve some of it when the wool is washed. 

The scent of the lanolin varies from sheep to sheep. It's not a difference we humans can detect, but each lamb knows his or her mama from not only the sound of her call, but by her distinct smell of her lanolin-- the distinct smell we just had sheared off!! 

It was sadly amusing to see each lamb call for her mother, the mother respond, and watch as the poor lambs slowly found his mother by calling out, listening, calling again, roaming, and then quickly running to the sheep who responded with the right distinct "ba--aa" to which he was most familiar.

Dido was a different story. It was sadder, which- and I'm almost embarrassed to say- made it even more amusing. She wondered aimlessly crying out with a questioning "ba-a?" To which her mother looked up and responded, "Ba-aa-aa." Again, Dido asked to the open field before her, "ba-a?" To which, again, with more gusto, her mother responded, "Ba-aa-A!".
Poor Dido tried again, looking around, "ba-a??" Cici stepped forward, and almost militantly resounded, "BA-A-AA!!" And poor Dido asked one more time, "ba-a?" By this time Cici the young mother simply mumbled, "ba-a-a-a-a" while biting and chewing and swallowing the green grass before her. Eventually, Dido heard her mother's distinct grumbling. Or perhaps, by default she simply chose the sheep mama without a baby. Either way, mother and daughter were soon reunited and Dido was able to wash down her grassy meal with her own mother's milk.

lambing in the winter

Meet the twin boys. Born January 31st, 2019

These little guys were expected. Their momma, Cherry, is mother to our Cici born last winter. She was clearly carrying more than one lamb, and we anxiously awaited their birth. Cherry, an experienced mother, didn't need any help her babies to feed and walk. They were bouncing around within minutes. One little guy needed a little extra cleaning, but other than that, no human intervention was necessary or offered.

They were out and about within twenty-four hours.

This little girl is another story.

February 11th, while Harmony was getting into bed after midnight, she heard our one-year-old Cici crying out from the barn. Checking on her, she found a hungry wee lamb in the corner of the barn, and a confused Momma Cici wandering loudly about. I received a text from the barn requesting back up. After sizing up the situation, which included one young inexperienced sheep mother and a little smaller than average baby girl who couldn't find milk, I went to the kitchen and made a bottle of colostrum. Yes, we actually had lamb colostrum in our pantry. The next couple of hours included a few ounces of bottle milk, as well as a forced nursing session with the mama. It also included me catching a confused, tired, and very strong sheep and holding her still while my daughter cut away excess wool from around the udders so our new lamb could reach her tiny mouth around the milk supply. What you see here are photos of happy healthy lambs and their content mothers. What you don't see are photos of me in my flannel pajamas grabbing hold of a frightened 130 pound ewe and holding her while someone comes at her underside with scissors. Nor will you see photos of that same 130 pound ewe butting me in the ribs, just enough to let me know she was not happy being held. (I am forever thankful that this particular ewe knows and likes me and was merely letting me know she was not comfortable; therefore I have no broken ribs)

After making the milk more accessible, Harmony was able to hold Cici still enough my little man to hold the lamb and direct her to her mama's milk. The shepherds made this a daily practice throughout the following week or so,  until our little Dido learned to nurse on her own.
For a few feedings a day, while Harmony the shepherdess was at school, the younger children would take a bottle of milk to the pasture to feed Dido the lamb. She knew them by sight, and the bottle by smell and would run to meet them. Their job was to try to feed her close to her mother's side so that each sheep would get the idea that feeding is related to the mama. In the morning before school, and in the evening after, Harmony would hold Cici still for Dido to nurse. After a few weeks of this, mamm and lamb finally found their own routine and neither bottle nor ewe catching was necessary.

A well established nursing routine after a week.

proud papa, scratching his itch

Meet Banana. (we didn't name her; she came with the name) This is her leggy son born without any aid needed. This is a blessing because Banana lets no human get near her, unless the human has alfalfa or clover in his hand. Any attempted nursing help with this ewe would definitely resulted in a broken rib for this human.

Uncle and niece, half brother/sister... animal husbandry; probably better not to ask

Now it's simply a matter of time, watching the lambs grow.
A word to the wise: don't get attached to the young rams.

hopeful romantic

Oxford dictionary defines romance as: a feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love, [and] a quality or feeling of mystery, excitement, and remoteness from everyday life. 
Wiki defines it as, well, never mind. Wiki is wrong. 

"remoteness from everyday life." yes. that's it. 

Nothing in that definition is exclusive to a relationship of two people who are married/dating/lovers. In fact, nothing in that definition excludes a person who is alone. One of my most romantic moments was in fact shared with no one. I was Rome in 2011. My mother had recently passed on, allowing for this trip. I was caught between mourning and joy, standing in the Eternal City. It was summer, and it was hot. The water was cool and inviting. For a few moments, it was just me, the water, and my creator. I was surrounded by people- mostly strangers- and the photo capturing the moment was taken by someone I knew. My three-month-old baby was nearby in a stroller. But the feelings that swelled up in me and glued me to that spot, celebrating that moment was all mine. It was indeed romantic.

My favorite scene in the movie 'The Father of the Bride' is a discussion between Spencer Tracy and his soon to be son-in-law. The bride, played by Elizabeth Taylor, had come to her father in tears, ready to call off her wedding because her fiance' bought her a blender for a wedding present. How could he be thoughtless, buying a kitchen appliance for her for a wedding present? How romantic is that?! Then there is that moment went the dejected young groom-to -be explains in an almost panic that he bought that blender thinking of how much she likes smoothies. He wanted her to always have what she wanted, and he wanted to be the one to provide it. Suddenly, a blender looked like the most romantic gift he could have considered. 'An excitement associated with love.'

The most romantic thing anyone ever did for me was line the floor of a shower room of a garage with brown paper, so that I could shower in an auto garage and still feel like a lady. I was rushed after two trips to the emergency room with two different children, a photo shoot, and being the only witness for a bride in a convalidation ceremony. I had no time to get home to clean up, and my dear friend made the best of a difficult situation without me asking. He had in the past made me feel loved, and shown his romantic side on many occasions, but that simple layer of brown paper covering every surface of the shower room made me feel like a princess.

When a good person  loves you, he will take time to listen to you. He will focus on your face and your words as you speak, and you will feel safe.
It becomes romantic when he stops what he is doing- what he is engrossed in- puts his tools down, looks you in the eye and either with his eyes or his words tell you that nothing else can come to his mind except what you are saying.  
A loving friend will say, "come over when you are finished with your errands and we'll have coffee and catch up." 
It becomes romantic when you arrive to find that she has drawn a bubble bath for you in her oversized tub, has surrounded the tub with candles and poured wine waiting for you, and says, "the next hour is all yours to be alone. I'll watch your kids." 
Loving a child can mean spending your lunch hour with her, listening to her talk about her latest playground escapade, or her first break-up. It becomes romance when you turn off your cell phone, pour her drink into a wine glass, and be sure to have her favorite cup-cake for desert. You lean in and focus on her eyes while she talks. She feels the mystery of a mother's (or a father's) love that isn't the everyday feeling she gets she you wash her laundry.


We all need romance. Those who are married, those who are single and celibate, and yes, even priests and religious need romance. Some of the most romantic people I have ever met were priests and nuns! When love is elevated to "out of the ordinary", anyone can feel the mystery of excitement of that love and it becomes romance. G*d created romance, so why would He keep it from any of His beloved, reserving it only for couples? "Thy lips are as a scarlet lace; and they speech sweet. They cheeks are as a piece of a pomegranate, besides that which lieth hid within. .... Thy lips, my spouse, are as a dropping honeycomb, honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments, as the smell of frankincense." [Solomon's Canticle of Canticles,4:3,11] No one could argue the romance and yes, eros! that fills the pages of this book of the Old Testament.  It's no wonder that so many of the saints would go into what was called an "ecstasy" when praying! There is praying.. and there is romantic praying. I worship a very romantic God. 


Although in the past I have loathed the coming of Valentine's day, thinking of it as merely "singles awareness day" and thinking about the romance not in my life, this year, I am filled with a mystery of the love that I have been blessed with from my Lord, my friends, and my family.
I have learned that having romance in my life is up to me. It's my responsibility to seek it out, to even create it for myself and for my children, and to recognize it in the beauty of creation that surrounds me. It is up to me to pull out moments in an otherwise mundane day and with G*d's grace, seek a feeling of excitement and share that with the people around me, whether it means getting out the good china to serve the peanut butter sandwich to my daughter, or dropping everything and inviting my son to sit in the large patch of clover in the yard to hear about his day. 

Maybe this is why I'm truly happy and can say I like who I am for the first time in my life.
 

getting cultured

In our attempts to be healthier, we're using culture. Okay, technically, it's "cultures". 
A friend gave us a SCOBY, which stands for "symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast". Don't be too impressed; I had to look that up for this post. 
My daughter started our Kombucha months ago. I took photos. Then I got busy with life. 

Recently because she is now a full time student, and remains a shepherdess as well as the other adult in the house, I took over the kombucha making. This means nothing is done on schedule anymore. While she took a notebook of dates, measurements, comments, etc... I look at the tea in the fermenting jars and ask, "When did I start this jar? Is it time for second fermentation with fruit? I need to buy tea....."  Then I forget about it another day. 
Regardless, the kombucha is still turning out with good flavor and a probiotic taste and feeling. It doesn't have the 'fizz' I like, but it's still kombucha, and my children enjoy it. 

Without a stove, however, brewing tea has been put off too long though. Today I am brewing a quart at a time in a glass container in the microwave. Since our microwave is the smallest available- used around here for heating cups of water/coffee/milkforhotcocoa and plates of nachos-- it's taking about ten minutes to get the water hot enough for each quart. But it's getting done. 

I've been much more diligent in keeping up with the sourdough starter given to me by another friend. I don't know how old this mother is, (that is the term for a culture; I'm not being snarky) but it is hardy. I never measure how much flour I feed it, or the water. I just add 'some' flour- either organic white or whole wheat- and a 'bit' of water every day. I have a back-up in the fridge in a form of status in case something contaminates this main starter or if I forget to feed it and it loses it's bubbles. Like I said though, it's a hardy batch and if I do see that it's losing its ability to ferment, I add a little apple cider vinegar before I give up on it. 

Harmony was in the practice of baking two loaves a few times a week. Her recipe required kneading, and she was good at it. But with the start of the semester, she was allowing more and more time to go between batches, and I could tell the timing was stressing her, so I adopted the baking. 

However, I am not one to spend time working on my upper body strength in the kitchen. So when I found a recipe for the French country crusty no-knead boule, it became my secret weapon to keeping bread in the house. It is a different texture and does not lend itself as well to different flavors as does Harmony's softer bread, but it takes little time and everyone likes it. 

Because I have this active sourdough bubbling on my counter next to my scoby, I searched for different ways to use these beautiful probiotics. Eating healthy doesn't mean my children (and I) don't have sweet tooths (sweet teeth?) This recipe for cinnamon rolls makes a super easy treat. Easy doesn't mean that it's not time consuming though, so it's not often that I can arrange the clock to have them made. 
This just might be the weekend for it! Epiphany is as good a reason as any, don't you think?