We got the Building Permit for the House.

So in a fit of madness today, we went and got the building permit for the house. Of course we hadn't really planned on getting it today, but then Scott looked at me and was all like, we should get the building permit this afternoon. And then my brain was all like oh god that will make it real and then we have to build it and what if I run out of money or the foundation explodes or I get house cancer or what if we have like a heat wave forever and then we can never work on it and then the county gets mad and pulls the permit and I have to live in this mobile home forever and no one will love me ever again because I will be a big fat failure.

And then I was all like, sure we can do that. So I threw everything I thought I would need into my bag and then we went on down to the courthouse. Of course I had brought the plans and a copy of the plans and the septic approval paper work and then we get there and all they do is ask us how many square ft and how many bedrooms and make a copy of the septic paper work and then I paid them 50$ for the permit and we left.

I got the impression that they didn't have many people trying to build their own homes because two separate people asked if it was a modular home and then both of them had to hunt down the check mark on the form that said “site build.”

So then I shoved the permit into my bag and we left and I was all happy but inside I was kinda like, that was it? It was harder to get septic approval then it was to get a permit to build the damn house. They didn't even ask what it was going to be made of.

I could've been making a house out of tires and flaming bicycle parts for all they know.

Although that probably won't pass a electrical and plumbing inspection.

So then we came home and worked more on treating the house logs and then we used the backhoe to start clearing the house and septic site and then I kept thinking that this was finally going to happen and then I kept thinking that I should be super ridiculous excited but instead I just felt nervous as hell because now we have to build this house.

So the next step is clearing the house site and waking up in the middle of the night and thinking really? REALLY?

So I feel kinda weird is what I am saying. Like excitement and terror have smashed into each other so hard that I am left with a new emotion that I can't really identify well. It feels exactly like that moment before you dive off a diving board or a cliff or a rope swing into the water.

That feeling.

I suppose I am just waiting for it to sink in, but I somehow suspect it probably won't until I am out there in 80+ degree temperatures pouring a footer.

Or it might sink in tomorrow and I will end up hyperventilating under my desk.

It could go either way really.

Electric Service and a Good Idea.

Today, or more correctly yesterday by the time you read this, dear readers, was made of concentrated awesome.

We had planned to install the culvert pipe under the driveway and connect the ditch we had dug with the far side of the road so the water would stop running down the left tire track and forming a miniature grand canyon. A miniature grand canyon that we had to drive over. And walk through.

So as we were in the kitchen making our today plans and waiting for it to at least warm up to a balmy forty degrees, two guys from the electric company pulled in. Now, I had totally forgotten we had called them, so this came as a surprise. Luckily, Scott was more on the ball then I was, and stepped outside to talk to them, while I was still making sure my pants didn't have any holes in bad places. Oh what, like you dress well around the house? Pffft. Fuck that noise.

Anyway, I step outside too, clutching my mug of tea because caffeine = giving a shit and they ask us where we need the new line, and which pole it was we needed checked for storm damage. We all walk over to the second mobile home, where it's small power pole is leaning sadly uphill.

I also realized at this point, that I was still wearing my kitty hat with the pink glittery nose and ears that makes me look like I am twelve. I decided to roll with it.

So they tell us where to put the new pole, and what service to get on it for the house. They also explain that we have to supply the pole and install it.

Well then.

So we ask where to get poles. They say Southern States, maybe. They also give us a name of someone they know will install it for us, and also a good idea of what kind of truck we will need to get a twenty five foot tall electric pole to our house. Mission accomplished, we all troop back over towards the driveway, and start the thanks for coming out speech. I wasn't really paying attention, and I felt my gaze wander over the yard, where it stopped on the light pole.

You know, the light pole that holds nothing but a yard light that has been broken since my dad moved in. That pole.

And an idea hit me.

“Hey! Why can't we just use that pole?” I blurted out in the middle of, 'we'll give you a call.'

Well, Mr Electric guy swivels looks at the pole and said the greatest thing ever in the history of ever.

“Yeah you can use that pole as long as the bottom is still good.” Then he eyed the backhoe. “Tell you what, you can dig the hole with the backhoe, Quickcrete the post in and use the bucket to tamp the dirt in, won't cost you a thing.”

I can tell you in that moment, dear most beloved readers, that I truly felt like queen of the entire world.

Then I said "wow this place just keeps on giving.”

Then they left and we went back inside where we stared at that pole through the window. Our super awesome new electric pole for the house.

Our super awesome free pole.

Sometimes, I even amaze myself.

It's Been a Year.

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It's been a year since I started this blog. A year of cursing and life and death and going to work and having the breaks fail and pushing myself to fix up this place if it motherfucking kills me. When I started this blog I figured that no one would read it. I didn't even tell any friends and family, not even the husband, that I had started it. I figured that would be the equivalent of showing everyone you meet pictures of the cat art you make out of dyed macaroni pieces.

You just don't do it.

Plus, I figured that I would have stopped writing by now. You know, since I have this farm and a job and a husband and my free time consists of 'time I spend between the shower and bed after the sun goes down.' Somehow throughout this insane year I have found the time to drag my tired ass to the keyboard and write on a consistent basis.

I know, I am surprised too.

But I was even more surprised that people started reading this blog. And that they liked it. That was the holy-shit-complete-strangers-are-telling-me-good-things-about-myself-that-almost-never-happens moment.

So I wanted to thank all of you, beloved readers.

Now at this point most bloggers would say they would love to thank you all but that can't think of a way to do that but fuck that shit because that is lame as hell so I painted you all a ghost chicken.

There is no need to thank me. Okay, maybe a little.

Ta Da! I think someone out there might have a new desk top background. Or a bullion board decoration. The only thing you can't do with the ghost chicken is resell the image in any form. Other then that, think of the many uses!

Terrify small children by placing the ghost chicken on the ceiling over their beds and telling them it will pluck at their face if they are bad! Leave small copies of the pictures laying around the house to confuse guests and spouses! Put the ghost chicken staring into a mirror to reclaim it's lost raccoon chewed soul! The uses are endless really.

So this is my gift, from me to you.

Use it well, gentle readers.

Use it well.

We Have a Peep!

We have a peep! A real live honest to god sweet baby chicken.

Isn't she/he just the cutest? I am hoping it's a hen, although it's too early to tell. So in line with that hope I am going to name her, Miss. Peeperington.

Mostly she justs eats and sleeps and looks fucking adorable.

 Why, yes, I am going to fill this entire post with pictures of my peep. Your welcome.

I made the decision to pull Miss. Peeperington inside and raise her by hand, because my adult chickens are apparently deadbeat parents. Assholes. Which cost me the first peep of the season because apparently my chickens are murderous dicks.

Luckily I still had my rat cage, back from when I had the best pet I have ever had in my entire life, my rat Pushkins.

May there be lots of wine in heaven for you, little guy. *sniff*

Anyway, I already had the cage set up, luckily because I had been at work all night slept in till three, only to staggerer blearily down to the chicken coup to discover that we now have 26 chickens. All I did was scoop Peeperington into my hand, carry her up here and start the heat lamp. I also placed a towel around the sides of the cage to help her warm up to temp faster. And that was it. Everything was ready to go.

So A+ for preparedness.

Miss, Peeperington is currently located in my office. Which means that, as I type this, I can look down and watch her sleeping blissfully. Except that I keep freaking she is dead and then I have to stop what I am doing and watch to see the comforting rise and fall of her breathing.

Also it's like a bajillion degrees in here, because, heat lamp. And I can't open a window because drafts can kill.

But otherwise, wonderful. It's like I have finally achieved my dream from when I was like, 8, and finally get to have a whole shit ton of animals and no one can tell me no because I am an adult now.

Adulthood FTW!

  You knew this was coming.

Chainsaws and No Adult Supervision.

After digging all of the murderous angry fence post holes, it was time for everybody's favorite part- getting the fence posts. This involves grabbing the chainsaws, starting up the truck and driving into the back part of our thirty acres to cut them down like goddamned lumber jacks.

Awesome Lumber jacks.

Let me state right now, right here, that chainsaws are the shit, you guys. We took down trees like beavers that had been on steroids for a number of years and had just snorted their very first line of cocaine. The chainsaw was all like, oh you don't want this tree here anymore? SHAPOW! It's gone. Oh you need these branches cut off? SHABLAM! It was like if old timey lumberjacks had suddenly been given a god mode.

So we took the posts up to the garden, after nearly loosing a few of them off the back of the truck because nothing can ever be easy, treated the bottoms and placed them in the holes. That was the easy part. Because next we had to level them and tamp the dirt the dirt back down.

How do you tamp the dirt back down?

If you guess drag out the stupid heavy motherfucking pry bar and use the blunt end to repeatedly hammer the earth with my blistered hands you would be right!

Also Mr. Sun decided he was no longer going to pussyfoot around here anymore and that's pretty much how I got sunburn. Oh and before you go on about how I should have been wearing sunscreen, I was wearing sunscreen. And I reapplied it every two hours. It's just that I have the same skin as Edward Cullen except instead of sparkling I just loose all ability to repel sunlight. Which is to say, not like Edward Cullen at all because I am a real vampire.

What was I saying?

Oh yeah, the garden. Anyway we also placed the top rail on the opposite side where we had already gotten the posts up and the wire on. We just used zip ties to attach the wire, which I'm hoping won't come back to bite us in the ass because I have no idea how much outside/weather/sunlight a zip tie can take before it dies. Which probably means that the zip ties are vampires too.

In fact we were so productive we decided to bridge the drainage ditch that lead to the chicken coup.

Bridge it with chainsaws that is.

Okay first we took some old wood that used to be hideous planter thing and placed it down across the ditch to form the framework, followed by us scrounging for boards to lay across it to walk on. We screwed them down and surveyed our work. But there was a problem. The boards were all different lengths. How did we solve this problem?

If you guessed using the goddamned chainsaws instead of walking all the way across the lawn to the tool shed and dragging out a more appropriate tool, you'd be right!

Which is why we probably shouldn't be allowed to use chainsaws without an adult present.

But that bridge looks damn sweet you guys.

Damn Sweet.