I thought my house was small…

I’ve always been a fan of small. I prefer small fruit, small spaces, small plates.  Plus, I’ve always loved houses-to-go—like little trailers. But this takes the cake! Imagine hooking this baby up to my VW and heading out West to see the Grand Canyon? After a day of hiking,  I could come back to home-sweet-home. Plus, best of all, a sleeping loft!! Love, love, love.

Pretty

Wear & Tear=Repair

I spent this weekend working on random house projects. One thing led to another, which led to another and so on.

• Tracked down source of the bad smell (which ended up being rotten food stuck deep inside the Kong) and cleaned out the refrigerator. Tossed old jar of sundried tomatoes, kept expired (but still unopened) bottle of pepperoncini, finally scrubbed away the maple syrup that’s been on that top shelf for, like, ever.
• Opened windows, broke window; fixed stuck bedroom window (after consultation with neigbor who–though he lifts weights–also couldn’t open stuck window. Used two pieces of 2×4 as levers and..presto!)
• Re-attached garden hose and turned on the spigot. Which still seems to work, though there is some leakage.
• Figured out how to load staple gun. Loaded it.
• Re-stapled bowed and bent chicken wire around the garden. No more Daisy hangout.
• Set up old picnic bench. Need to paint a nice shade of celadon or apple green.
• Took out Weber grill. Decided backyard was beginning to look like a yardsale. Stored grill back in garage.
• Weeded front flower bed. Took chicken bone out of Daisy’s mouth.
• Made black bean soup and added vegetarian chipotle sausage to it.  Burned mouth.

Spring Lamb

We often don’t know how far we’re willing to go for someone we love. But then one day you find yourself with a dog who has food allergies and the next thing you know, you’re boiling a $27 lamb loin for her supper while you eat rice and beans for yours.

I’m a vegetarian cook for lots of reasons, but the top reason is that I can’t stand to touch raw flesh. So last night I had to grin and bear it as I cleaned the loin and put it in the pot.  After an hour, I pulled it from its vat of fat, let it cool, and sliced it into small chunks for my girl. Interesting how her grass-eating and vomiting seemed to cease while she waited attentively at my feet for her supper. I left the windows open to air out the smell of greasy butchering and looked fondly at her small green bag of California Natural kibble.  The vet has put her on three days of home-cooked lamb and potatoes, then we’ll slowly re-introduce her dry food.

Until then, it’s lamb, baby, lamb.

Legal Love

I love my little house here in upstate New York, but I’ll always be a Vermonter at heart.  And here‘s just another reason to feel proud of my home state–it’s involved in a “watershed moment” in history! I love it.

Twu Love

Crap Part II

Oye. Where to start? It’s been quiet on the northern Housegirrl front these days because so many other things (like shoveling, running the dog, teaching, etc.) have kind of taken over. Clearly I’ve fallen behind in my regularly scheduled blogging posts and my readers have been complaining. So, Mom, this one’s for you!

As you may recall, I’d been dealing with a backed up house trap and even though I switched to Scott’s TP (hasta luego oh so soft Cottonnelle) and had Apex sewer guy out to snake the line, I was feeling less than confident that the problem was resolved.  So I called the neighborhood sewerline replacmeent Dude (who actually does look a lot like The Dude) and he paid me a consulting visit. We poked, we prodded, we talked, and we admired his photographs of badly clogged lines. And in the end, we decided that the next step prior to full sewerline replacement was to camera my line to see what was what.

And because I’m a girl of action, that’s what I did. Watching the black and white live footage of the camera in my sewerlines was fascinating. It was probably also great preparation and practice for having a colonoscopy someday. Charmant. It turns out that roots are the culprit, but they weren’t so invasive as to require complete replacement. I mean, if I wanted to do the job right, I would put in a new sewer line (and water line while I’m at it).

But c’mon. This is me you’re dealing with. When do I do things the “right” way?

My new best friend is Jason from AA Sewers and Drain. And not just because I love his tag line (“Our business is going down your drain”) but because he’s all about a maintenance plan instead of a whole-hog replacement plan. So, once a year (at least) I’ll give him a call and he’ll come snake my line. The sound you hear is my whoops of joy as I do my happy dance.

Not having to spend $5000 that I didn’t have?

Priceless.

Now I can get back to saving for my 2010 Mexican yoga retreat and splurging on organic avocados. You know, the important things in life.

Crap

I stayed in bed this morning as long as possible because I dreaded what I had to do. After a visit from a rotor rooter man yesterday, my sump trap was at least working. But he had left me with instructions to “let the pump dry out” and then “dig up all that paper.” I was, like, um, okay.

First of all, letting your house sump dry out is not an easy thing to do and made me realize all that I don’t know about pipes and water. So I refrained from flushing and using the washing machine. But what about the tap water in the bathroom? It got late and it got confusing, so I turned on the dehumidifier and called it a night.

This morning, I had to fortify myself with multiple cups of Italian Roast before I could face the task of shoveling. I wanted a surgical mask and HazMat suit, but all I could find were some rubber gloves. I grabbed my metal gardening shovel (easy to bleach afterward) and a trash bag and went to work.

Let’s just say I can think of better ways to spend a Saturday morning.

And seriously, I wanted to ask that man what I paid him $140 dollars for. The one good thing to come out of all this is a new brand of TP–Scotts–because it breaks down more easily and won’t clog traps. Plus, it’s cheap. Say good bye to Cottonelle and hello to macho-wipe.

The House of Meat

You know all the usual excuses people use to account for the dead zone that is their blog? Yup, I’ll use those too. LIfe, etc. Discuss.

But I’m on a bit of a hiatus from my own house and am spending some time at my parents’ house. Or rather The House of Meat, as I like to call it. At home, I’m strictly a vegetarian cook. It would be nice if I could say it’s due to ethical commitments and moral living, but really it’s because I can’t stand the feel of animal flesh or the way blood pools in those thin layers of plastic. It’s just too icky for me, so pass the chick peas, please.

But away from home and I’m, like, the biggest carnivore that walks the planet. For the record, here’s a brief list of items I’ve consumed in the past 24 hours:

• Meat pie (flaky crust, direct from Canada, smeared with ketchup).  A crispy slice of pork heaven, what’s not to like?
• Pot roast (complete with latkes and apple sauce. My favorite meal.)
• Bacon. Thin and crisp to the point of melting on my tongue. Need I say more

Taking flexitarianism to whole new levels and dimensions, that’s me!Vacation, all I wanted.

Quiet Saturday

It’s a dark and dreary Saturday here on the homestead. It’s not even 3:30, but feels like 5:00.  We’ve already been to the dog park, Daisy’s dug three more new holes in the backyard, and I’ve finally finished a set of papers. On the docket for the rest of today: a run (maybe), pumpkin/squash saag (new recipe), laundry (definitely), and maybe the first episode of the first season of Mad Men?

The house and I have settled into a calm and reasonable relationship. I’m even learning to live with dog hair.