My "red sink" moment

So as I've mentioned before, we are currently building a house. This is my first time building a house from scratch, and there have been many times so far that I have felt overwhelmed, or had trouble believing it was actually happening.

Well it is starting to sink in now!

Yesterday we had a meeting with the builders to go over some of the specs for the house- specifically the windows and doors package.

At first it was a breeze. We knew we wanted the Queen Anne grid, so all we had to do was choose the sizes for each room. The longest we spent discussing any of the windows was in figuring out the size of the rain glass transom for the master bath, and then a quick debate over whether or not to add an extra window in the basement. It's an upgrade, so it's an out-of-pocket expense, but having them order it from their wholesaler and install it for us ahead of time will be a heck of a lot cheaper than us buying it ourselves later on and then having to cut the whole, fix the drywall and the siding, and all that. So we went for it.

Donesies!

Then we moved on to the doors.

Sigh...

The doors were not as easy.

We wound up going with a simple two-panel door for all the interior doors, because they aren't too ornate and have more of an updated classic country vibe, which we liked. When in Rome, right?

Then we had to pick the exterior doors. Choosing the two garage doors was fairly easy. We maintained the same two-panel look, only in the steel, fire-resistant doors. Choosing the two sliders was easy too, as we just went with the Queen Anne grid in those as well.

Then we had to move on to the front door.

And here is where my brain started to hurt.

So. Many. Options.

So let me share a story before moving on. Back when I was probably 10 or so, my parents were remodeling our house. I remember overhearing the discussions about all the different color choices and design options and layouts (something I relate to now!) They needed to move forward with the kitchen design, but my mom was stuck. She couldn't envision it. She didn't know the look she wanted, the layout, any of it.

And then inspiration struck.

We were at the home improvement store, and she was perusing kitchen sinks when she saw it. The sink. It was an enameled cast iron sink. And it was red.

It looked much like this

Yes.

A red sink.

Not everyone's taste, but it spoke to her.

From there, the rest of the kitchen came together easy peasy. My mom found her inspiration in that sink.

Fast forward twenty years to yesterday, and there I am sitting in the builder's office, flipping through a gigantic book of door options.

Too fancy.

Too plain.

Too see through.

I flipped one more page, and I found it.

The door.

Same two-panel design as our other doors. The top panel was leaded glass, much like many of the other doors I had been seeing. It also had matching side light panels as well.

But rather than the fancy schmancy curlicue designs that were not my taste, this door had a cleaner geometric pattern. Squares and rectangles in different textures of privacy glass.

And intermittent in the pattern were ruby red pieces.

It was simple, yet beautiful.

It had a pop of color.

And it spoke to me.

That's my front door. I just knew it immediately.

I had my "red sink" moment.

Similar to this, only with ruby pieces...

Any parent can relate to this...

The Sweet Spot of parenting. That place where your children are big and little all at the same time. Big enough to participate in the daily goings on of life, but little enough to still want you around!

It's wonderful, and fleeting, and frustrating, and sad, and full of joy and laughter and fun.

Hold on while you can, it doesn't last long!

Post-visit blues

Not gonna lie, I'm bumming pretty hard right now.

My friend left to go home first thing this morning, and it always saddens me when our visits are over because they are usually so short. We grew up three houses down from each other, and now we only get to see each other a couple times a year at the most. It sucks a little bit.

Confession: after she left I may have crawled back in bed a little teary-eyed.

But!

Since she lives about four hours away now, and this is the closest we've lived to each other in, oh, 15 years, we plan to take full advantage of it. We were discussing trading off visits- she comes down one month, I go up there the next month- in order to see each other more frequently.

She's one of my most favorite-est people ever, and I miss her greatly, and it would be lovely to be more regularly involved in each other's lives.

Plus, I love Victoria, it's such a pretty city!

Right? Right?!?

So now life goes back to normal. I have a quiz to write for my Race and Ethnicity class that I've been putting off all week. I have laundry to do. And I have a bunch of TV shows to get caught up on since I've turned the TV on maybe twice this week total.

But first the quiz. Always the quiz.

Lunatic salad with a side of crazy sauce

Holy geez.

Just when you think things can't any busier or weirder, life has a way of showing you up.

Sigh...

So first of all, cat ownership is proving to be challenging for my patience today. I think he's pissed we were gone all day yesterday, so he's gone completely mental today to make a point. And if I have to clean up any more spilled tea or pick up any more knocked over lamps, I may just lock him in kitty jail for the rest of the afternoon (and by kitty jail, I mean the little bathroom where his litter box is stashed). Because grrr.

So yesterday we were out of town all day because we had to head across the state to address some health concerns that my mother-in-law has been ignoring for far too long, and basically 'intervention-ed' her about it because her children are genuinely worried. My mother-in-law and I don't really have the warm-and-fuzziest relationship, so I was mostly just there for moral support for The Husband. I don't think anything I would have added to the conversation would have been absorbed anyway, so I just kept quiet. I am thinking about commissioning my health-expert friend to come up with a heart-healthy diet for her, though. Because despite our frosty relationship, it's not like I'm hoping she kicks the bucket any time soon (contrary to popular opinion, my cold black heart isn't quite that cold and black) (sshhhh, don't tell anyone).

Besides all of that, this week has also been crazy for a whole other reason. So awhile back I mentioned our crazy prepper neighbors with their guns and guard dogs and chain link fence. Well, it turns out maybe they aren't the scary ones after all (at least, in the grand scheme of things).

(Although, side note, they ended up forgoing the chain link fence in favor of a tension cable fence. Like, what they used for the dinosaur paddocks in Jurassic Park. Yeah. Not as ugly as chain link, but still...)

Anyway, we have this other neighbor, let's call him Crazy E for the purposes of this post. Crazy E has been well known by our entire neighborhood for being... well, a little whacked. When you first meet him he seems all friendly and jovial and whatnot, but after one conversation with him you realize that he's the "I caught a fish fourteen feet long... but I threw it back" kind of guy. He tells tall tales.

Okay, fine, that's harmless enough. Liar, liar, pants on fire, but at least it makes for entertaining stories.

Only... after chatting with him more than once or twice, you quickly begin to glean that something isn't right with him. First of all, he gives off a very distinct.... rape-y vibe. He has certain creeper qualities that have made all the women in this neighborhood avoid him like the plague.

Second, he has serious boundary issues. He'll just wander into your yard and make himself at home. Regardless of if you're just out working in the yard, or you have guests over and are having a barbecue or whatever, he'll just sort of invite himself. And not leave.

Third, he drinks. Excessively. Like, to the point of completely blacking out in his front yard in the middle of the day. Yeah. And considering he's A STAY AT HOME DAD, clearly that's totally uncool. Why CPS hasn't been called, I don't know.

But the fourth and final quality you eventually learn about Crazy E? Dude has some serious anger issues. I guess his across-the-street neighbors can hear him and his wife fighting constantly, which breaks my heart for their little boy.

Well, earlier this week all of these lovely qualities came together to form the perfect storm of crazy. Crazy E had been drinking heavily (no shock there), and was wandering aimlessly through the neighborhood (again, nothing new) when he discovered his across-the-street-neighbor's kids were playing up the road with prepper-family's kids. Apparently this set him off, so he marched home, grabbed his pistol, came back, and started screaming and yelling and raving like a lunatic about "so what, my kid's not good enough to play with your kids?" and "come out here and let's resolve this" and scary crap like that.

Dude was waving a handgun at CHILDREN.

Clearly, prepper mom called the cops, and four sheriff's cars arrived very shortly thereafter. It took them quite awhile to calm Crazy E down, and he was arrested on a weapons related charge.

Needless to say, I've had our alarm system armed 24/7 since.

But the scariest part for me? The fact that just hours after he was released yesterday, he was at my children's school volunteering in his son's class. Like nothing had happened. Someone who is clearly unbalanced, has access to firearms, and has anger and alcohol problems, and is still working in the classroom?!? I feel like I've seen this news story before...

So I called the school.

Up until this point I hadn't gotten involved, because the situation did not directly include me, and I tend to mind my own business until my involvement is necessary. Well, I'm sure as hell not going to have another Sandy Hook situation occur at my children's school, so you better believe I got involved at this point.

I spoke with the principal, who had just been made aware of the situation, and Crazy E is no longer permitted to have any contact with any of the kids on campus apart from dropping off and picking up his son. But apparently there isn't really much they can legally do to bar him from campus.

And that I have a problem with.

There has to be more that can be done to protect our children, especially in this day and age where gun crimes are committed on the daily. It's times like this where I contemplate getting involved in politics...

Anyway, Crazy E currently has a restraining order against him, and prepper-mom is planning to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law, and while I am not a litigious person, I fully support her decision to do so. No one gets to threaten children and get away with it. If it were my kids, I be out for blood too.

And the stupid thing is we moved out here to the foothills to avoid crazy shit like this. I just want to tend the garden, have our bonfires, and sit on the deck watching the sunset paint the mountain pink and orange.

Not feel like I'm living my very own rap song!

Gravel at my feet

So The Husband is on his way to the quarry right now to get a load of gravel.

Because Yard Work Day!

There is this little gully type thing on one side of our house, where all the rainwater seems to gather and create a little stream, and quite frankly, it's a mucky mess.

And since we have the limited green-thumb cognition to at least understand that grass likely won't grow there in that soup, we're going to turn it into a gravel/rock path leading from the front yard to the back yard.

Improvising!

May as well turn an ugly into a useful and pretty, right? Of course right.

Of course, this means that I'll be spending my afternoon shoveling gravel out of a trailer....

Man that's going to suck.

How does your garden grow?

So spring is nigh.

In theory, anyway. Considering we got about six inches total of snow this week I'm a little hesitant to fully believe it. But fingers crossed!

Yesterday we spent the afternoon planting the two maple trees finally, now that Mother Nature's version of March Madness has subsided. We also shoveled out a trailer full of topsoil and then spread grass seed.

Our front yard is almost done!!!

Of course, my celebrating has to be mildly subdued on account of my screaming back muscles. But whatevs. It was worth it.

The next major step is getting the garden prepped and ready. In theory it should have been started by now, but again, Mother Nature kind of screwed that plan up. Apparently this coming week is supposed to be really nice and get up into the 60s, so I'm super stoked about that!

We have eight 4x8 raised beds, and last year we grew snap peas, green beans, black beans, pinto beans, lettuce, carrots, onions, corn, and tomatoes. Unfortunately, the lettuce got eaten by slugs and the corn didn't mature enough before the end of the growing season. We also tried growing peppers and herbs, but neither turned out well. Likely not hot enough.

This year, we plan on amping up the nutritional value of the soil to increase our yield. While we were up to our eyeballs in carrots, peas, and green beans, everything else was a little disappointing. Not bad for our first ever garden, but there is some serious room for improvement!

First, once our greenhouse is mended we are going to start peppers and herbs in there. We also plan on building a potato tower, which I'm super excited about. We started potatoes last year, but they quickly were consumed by slugs... or rabbits... I'm not sure which. Either way, I was unimpressed. Hopefully the tower protects them. I'm going to look into planting repellent plants around them to keep away the nibbling thieves.

Also, we need to blend some compost and organic fertilizer into the beds and get the seeds planted, and I'm looking into copper tape to repel the damn slugs. Last year we tried sprinkling a barrier of slug repellent, but they just slide right over it. Bastards. Apparently copper tape is much more effective, and is also 'greener'. It's also pricier for a garden as big as ours, but it may just be worth it to not lose food to them.

Hopefully the weather really does improve as is forecasted, and I can spend next weekend being Mary Mary Quite Contrary.

Toeing that fine line between annoying and crazy

So I mentioned before about our crappy neighbor with his guns and guard dogs and overall antisocial demeanor.

It's okay, take a sec, refresh your memory if need be... I'll wait...

All set?

Okay, let's continue.

So while I spent the weekend planting trees, planning my garden, and in general beautifying my yard and increasing its value, our darling neighbors spent the weekend inexplicably digging a trench and burying metal posts on which to hang a six-foot tall chain link fence.

Yeah... nothing sends your property value down quite like destruction and chain link.

Yay me.

While we were out in the yard on Sunday, our immediate neighbors (the house in between us and the scary people) stopped by to comment on our progress with our yard, and the conversation naturally turned to the thorn in our collective sides.

First of all, they are "preppers". Not the hey-you-never-know-so-let's-be-prepared types.

No, no.

Like, hardcore the-world-is-ending-and-everyone-is-out-to-get-us types. Great.

Paranoid + high-calibre rifles? Dream neighbors, amiright?!?

And apparently, the trench in their backyard? That's all it is intended to be. A trench. To "run drills" in.

Dear God, I don't think I want to know what that means.

And the chain link fence? Well, besides the fact that it directly violates our neighborhood's covenants and adds a nice splash of ugly to an otherwise beautiful street, apparently they are looking into the legality of putting razor wire on top of the fence.

Yes. You read that right.

Razor wire.

Because that's what you think of when you picture mountain living.

A prison-like compound two plots down.

What's next? Guard towers?!?

Your inferiority complex is showing

So a couple years back when we were looking to buy a new house, we took many variables into consideration. Commute times, school district boundaries, quality of life, house-to-lot ratios, property tax rates, the whole kit and caboodle.

I spent countless hours pouring through Zillow and Redfin listings, saving certain houses into folders on my desktop, comparing amenities, yards, neighborhoods, etc, etc, etc.

(You say OCD? I say thorough...)

The house that we ended up buying was actually stumbled upon by accident. We drove out here to look at a different house, which we didn't end up liking, but while we were in the area we discovered this one. We proceeded to look at a few more listings, but we always came back to this one.

It stuck with us.

We were always told that when you found THE house, you'd know. Well, we knew.

The offer was accepted immediately, we closed (albeit a week late, but whatevs), and the rest is history. Happily ever after, right?

Well, not so much.

You see, even with all of that research, all of the time and effort and thought that was put into our home search, there is one thing you can't plan for.

One big variable.

A huge, glaring, pain in the ass that you can't predict.

Neighbors.

Now, the majority of our neighbors are great. Fun, kind, down to earth people. We have neighborhood barbecues and bonfires and there is even an industrial karaoke machine. Since we live in the middle of nowhere, our neighborhood has largely attracted cool, independent, low-key individuals.

With one exception.

One guard dog owning, high-calibre rifle shooting, neo-Nazi exception.

The neighbors a couple houses up from us are... shall we say... unpleasant? Anti-social? Downright scary?!?

They moved in six or eight months ago, and it's been interesting, to say the least.

The wife is... alright, I guess. Ish. She will half-smile and half-wave. Sometimes.

The kids are... well, hooligans in the making. Let's just say if my house ever gets egged, TP'd, or tagged with spray paint, I know who I'm pointing the finger at first.

But the husband?

Well, he's an ass. He's arrogant. He's a bully. And he's the most inconsiderate neighbor I've ever had. And having lived in a Quadrant Homes neighborhood, that's really saying something!

(Cookie cutter neighborhoods. Amirite?!?)

So this guy decided that it would be the greatest idea ever to install a shooting range in his backyard.

Yes, you read that right. A mother-effing shooting range. And we're not talking bows and arrows, my friends. Oh no. We're talking semi-automatic, high-calibre, military-grade rifles. You know, the kinds used to massacre children, theater-goers, and temple worshipers in the last few months? Yeah, those.

And the worst part? It's legal.

*facepalm*

Because we live in an unincorporated area, dude is technically allowed to shoot whatever the hell he wants on his property.

Never mind the fact that there is a house about a quarter-mile behind his. Never mind the fact that our property sits below his and any errant bullets put us and our children at risk. Never mind the fact that our entire street is a sickle-shaped curve and all of the properties are attached pie-shapes and dude is violating all of our safeties just to satisfy some itch to rapid-fire armor-peircing rounds into the woods.

Yeeeahhhh......

I have to say, it is the most disturbing thing to be sitting here listening to those guns going off.

*pop*

*pop*

*pop*pop*

*popopopopopopopoppopppoppoppopopopopopopopopop*

It makes me want to crawl under my kitchen table and assume the earthquake 'ready' position. I hate it.

And many neighbors (us included) have tried talking to him about how uncomfortable it makes all of us, and how unsafe it is considering the position of his targets in correlation to where the rest of our kids play. But to no avail.

Suffice it to say, I think I see an HOA covenant in our future. And while I hate to be "those people", because we previously lived in a neighborhood with highly restrictive covenants, and because we all moved this far out for a reason (the freedom to do whatever the hell we want), there has to be a line.

I don't care of you want to have chickens and goats in your yard. I don't care of you have raucous bonfires every night. You want to work on your broke-ass truck in your driveway? Have at it, big guy. But I sure as hell care if your hobbies are putting my kids in danger.

Take your machismo to an actual gun range dude.

No one here is impressed.