Those 70ish Girls

They showed up yesterday. I was so excited, I almost ran over and hugged them. They were strange fellows. They didn’t talk much and wouldn’t make eye contact. They got the sewer in and said, “We will be back tomorrow to do the water, if it doesn’t rain.”

Kip stood outside all morning waiting. The temperature was not very comfortable inside.

It didn’t rain until 1:00 pm, today. It didn’t rain hard until 4:00 pm. Kip enlisted the aid of a guy from our church, who knows his stuff as far as plumbing is concerned, and they worked all morning on the house-side of the connections.

Yesterday, however, we also got the satellite service transferred, so we have television and the concrete guy came and cut a couple of feet off the driveway.

Remember the retail therapy I told you we did on Monday? Well, three bar stools and three counter stools got there today. Kip had to do some assembling. He has assembled so much furniture in the last thirty-seven years, he has collected 38 allen wrenches. They always come in the box with anything that needs put together. We also got the headboard. I had to leave to get back to the RV to walk the dogs, so I didn’t get to see how everything looked when he finished. I’ll take pictures tomorrow.

I unloaded boxes and put things away, today. I still have too much and I don’t like the “too much” look, anymore. Tomorrow, I will decide on what will stay and what will go. I will take pictures before and after and you can help me decide. That will add some fun to it.

We’re still looking forward to the day we can sit by our fire pit on the porch and watch the grass grow. 

We will not get water tomorrow, because it’s supposed to rain again. There is no rain in the forecast for next week. I’m not going to despair, you all. I am sitting, right now, in a perfectly nice motor home with Cyndie sitting beside me. She’s in MY recliner. I’m at my makeshift desk with my laptop. My feet hurt and I’m tired, but on the plus side, I have reached my goal of over 10,000 steps every day for over a week, so I’m getting fresh air and exercise.

Stay tuned for pictures of the decor…

When they said they were going to put our water and sewer in this week, they didn’t mean Monday or today. I think they’re purposely playing around with my emotions, and that can be a dangerous thing to do. They have added insult to the injury the electric company heaped on me until I was close to snapping. Do you think they could be in cahoots? Is there a conspiracy against my tiny home? Maybe they’re not used to tiny houses and to them they are of no consequence…invisible to the utility naked eye. Not worthy of their precious water. I should be happy they begrudgingly gave me electricity. I could still be waterless in the dark.

Wait…I forgot to breathe.

Kip said, “Call them.”

“Hello my name is Mary McNinch and I was told your guys were going to put our water and sewer in this week. Can you give me an idea what day that might be because we’re trying to line up a plumber to hook it up to our house so we can live there.”

The water company: We can’t  tell you that because it might rain and we don’t dig in the rain. We only dig when it’s dry and it’s supposed to rain.”

Me, again: But if it doesn’t rain, will you still do it this week? Hello?

In the beginning….

When I got off the phone I heard Kip on the phone with the satellite TV service.

“Hi, this is Kip McNinch. I need you to come and set up the satellite service at my new house. Also, I need a smaller box because I got this new stand with an electric fireplace in it, and the side shelves are smaller. When can you be there? You’ll be there at eight o’clock tomorrow morning? I guess I can be there that early…See Ya!”

I’m telling you…I’m invisible…

So we decided to hang pictures today. We have done this eleven times now in our married life with very little drama. After trying two or three different places for the things we like best, and fighting for a great spot for our personal favorites, we usually agree on the best spots for everything and get to work measuring, leveling and hanging. Of course, now that we are tiny home minimalist, we should have been done by noon, right?

Wrong…

By noon, we had a gash in one of the walls and two of our favorite pictures had broken frames. We only got one picture hung.

Have you been watching television when the ads come on for the new picture hangers that stick to the wall and to the back of the picture, and…they saaaay… will never, ever damage your wall even if the picture is finally taken down ten or so years later? Have you watched as the confident lady pulls down on the sticky strip and it comes off without so much as a smudge on the wall? It’s lies…all lies!

We went to Lowes and bought the things in every size to accommodate every weight. They weren’t that easy to work with to begin with, but just when we thought everything looked beautious, CRASH!! To the floor they went. The frames in splinters. Well, two of them anyway. We tried one twice, but when that didn’t work, I told Kip I wasn’t willing to chance it again. I could just see us awake all night wondering if pictures in an unoccupied tiny home make a noise when they fall even if no one is in the forest, I mean in the tiny house to hear them.

Tomorrow we will be making a trip to Michael’s in Dallas or Tyler to get new frames or maybe have them frame them for us. The ones that splintered are old ones and they could use a little freshening up. But there are other places for money to go right now. The pit is deep and getting deeper.

I’m really doing a lot of fantasizing about the 1939 life insurance policy the bank in Murdo discovered in an old safe deposit box my parents abandoned years and years ago. I know my parents, and they never would have forgotten they had something of value, anywhere. I can still imagine several scenarios all of which end with MG being a rich girl, and Billy would be wealthy, too, of course.

I watched a show on HGTV last night. It was late, but I couldn’t sleep. It was about a couple who won $187 million dollars in the lottery. They were looking for a new house. They started with a self-determined budget of two million and ended up buying a mountain for five million. The whole thing overwhelmed me and made me nervous. Can you imagine all of the bad luck Kip and I could have in a place that cost us five million dollars?

No thanks!! I would rather be a minimalist living in a tiny home with tiny problems.

Note to Patti: Billy graduated with a class of twenty-four. There were only nine girls. He quoted some other statistics about how many were still living and how many of those showed up for reunions. It was really impressive, but I’ve forgotten the numbers.

I’m late writing my post tonight because I have been working on Connie’s Story and Dakotah’s Story for the last couple of hours. It’s another long story, but because I have been given some great advice, I have taken on another edit of both books. I believe the stories are good, but they both still need a little finessing to make them exactly as I want them.

We see these ducks every day on the road to our tiny home.

It would help if I had a lot of money, but that could all change soon. Just as I thought this week couldn’t get any weirder, Billy and I got an email from the Jones County Bank in Murdo. They are sending us the contents of an old safe deposit box my parents had. One of the items is a life insurance policy from 1939. Dad was only twenty years old then. It probably won’t be worth anything, will it? Something tells me it probably lapsed somewhere along the line.

Today, we spent a lot of time putting the furniture back together and getting some things ready for the move. Electricity helps, but we still need water to really clean the place and of course, we can’t move in without it. Here are a few pics of the furniture we organized. It doesn’t look like much, yet, but we’ll get there. I’ll show you pictures as we progress. I told you in the beginning, I would give you the good, the bad, and the ugly, and I have kept my promise.

I want to tell you about one other thing that happened today. It’s important information; especially for people who have dogs. About two weeks ago, Cyndie started panting and drinking lots of water. We took her to the Vet right away, and the test they gave her showed her kidney functions weren’t what they should be. They gave her some medicine, and told us to give her a dog food that is easy on the kidneys, (low protein). She has been doing great since then.

Today, when we were taking them all for a walk, we noticed Cyndie’s stool was full of blood. We were concerned to say the least and took her right to the Vet again. After talking about her symptoms, he told us it was caused by eating grass. I always thought dogs ate grass to calm an upset stomach, but this doctor said they eat it because it smells good and it tastes good; especially this time of year. The problem is they can’t digest it, and it can cut up their intestines, which he believes is what’s wrong with Cyndie. We’re grateful for the best news we’ve had all week. It could have been a much worse diagnosis.

I’ll let you know if the symptoms disappear, but in the meantime, I wouldn’t let your dog eat a lot of grass if I were you. Cyndie has been munching too much around this RV park.

Have a great night, everyone…and a wonderful weekend!

We took another tiny step toward tiny home living yesterday. Since the RV garage is ready, we decided to move everything out of the three storage units we occupy, for a total if $150 per month, into the garage.

Does this look like minimalist living to you? This is only the contents of one unit. We have two more to go. It’s ridiculous!

I noticed many of these boxes were labeled, “garage.” Some were marked, “important tools.” I would be willing to bet 99.9% of Kip’s tools made the cut. 

Okay…full disclosure… I had more Beasterhop boxes than I remembered. And a few bunny paraphernalia I picked up at the church garage sale have.been riding around in the jeep with me.

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“Don’t worry, Fluffy. We came from Barbara’s house and we’re keepers. We just can’t multiply.”

I’ll go back and read my goal notes.

The question is, “Are we ready?” The answer is, “It doesn’t matter.” Like it or not. The time has come. Well, as soon as we get some electric juice and a water/sewer hook-up, we will be faced with ridding ourselves of a whole lot more antiminimalistic hangers on.

We don’t need them…the lesson here is, if you do what we just did, you’ll have to handle everything twice…at least. Remember all the stuff we so proudly got rid of?

On to something else. I had the facts wrong. I woke up in the middle of the night thinking,  “What was I thinking?” Penny and Midnight were not involved like I said in the last blog. Remember? Berferd was Penny’s offspring. His father was a homeless and rather mangy mutt with a sad story, and there was no denying he was Berferd’s biological father. 

(Berferd had a lot of personality. This dog is smaller than he was, but the look is similar.)

 A couple of years ago, I wrote about how we discovered Berferd’s paternity. Someone found a deceased dog on the side of the road and thought he was Berferd. How many dogs have wirey, mangy looking hair in three colors? (Penny’s hair was copper colored.) When Berferd came home from eating popcorn at the show, we figured out the dog, who went to a better place, wasn’t him. It was his father. Poor Berferd had just lost his only known relative.

Midnight was Scamp’s mother’s  puppy daddy. That makes more sense anyway, because Scamp was all black like Midnight and he lived south of Hiway 16 where Midnight spent most of his time when he was visiting from Pennsylvania. Scamp’s mother must have lived in the neighborbood, too. Maybe Greg Miller knows who she was. Scamp was their dog.

Scamp and Midnight were black and mostly some kind of spaniel. So was Smokey, Uncle Wayne’s dog.

We’re going to load more boxes, and then, the furniture.

P.S. Kip just said my housekeeping style is best described as, ” There appears to have been a struggle.” 

He’s gonna wish he hadn’t kept that heavy old crowbar.

We’re not exactly sure who wrote this accounting of a time in the life of M.E. and Mary Sanderson that began with a fun vacation at their cabin in the Black Hills, and ended in near tragedy.

My brother, Billy, who was with Grandma and Grandpa on the trip, found the letter in some papers a cousin on the Francis side of the family sent to him. I think most of the information is accurate, however, I know the young daughter of a family friend was also with them on this trip. I copied the letter verbatim.

The photograph is of Mary and Maynard Sanderson at their cottage in the Black Hills near Nemo (1951). Shortly after leaving for home, they were involved in a serious accident near Wall. Billy Francis was with them and they had stopped to get him a drink. When they returned to the highway, Maynard hadn’t put his lights on “bright” and hit a tractor which had no lights. A kind motorist had them taken to a Wall hospital where they learned that Mary and Billy both had broken thighs and were put in casts from the waist down. Maynard had several broken ribs.

When they could return to their apartment above the store in Murdo, Ella and Al (Leckey) also lived there and gave them special attention. How grateful the whole family and friends were, that they survived.

The cottage near Nemo, cost Maynard and Mary about $650.00. There was a cool stream in the valley below and a beautiful view. When Helen and Bob and family came from Michigan on vacation, they spent time with her Mother and Dad and also visited his older brother, Ray, (Marj and Darla).

The cottage was in the national forest and had to be burned unless it could be moved to private property.

They enjoyed many good times there without modern facilities, such as running water and electricity, for many years.

As the writer of this letter said, the family enjoyed the cabin for many years. We all loved to go there. Uncle Jerry Miller made improvements and updates to it through the years, but some things like the old walls papered in pine cones, beds with lumpy mattresses, and heavy warm quilts, as well as the sounds of the creek, laughter, frying fish, and the breeze blowing through the pine trees, never changed. Just like Grandma’s beads, you could count on them to always be there.

Billy was seven when they were in the accident. I was born a few months later. Billy was sitting on the lap of the young girl who was with them. She went through the windshield first and he went through behind her, which saved his life. I don’t believe she was seriously hurt. The man on the tractor was thrown off into the field and walked out of the hospital a few hours later. I think Grandpa also had a broken arm. I remember it didn’t heal right and he wore a leather lace up cuff when it bothered him.