It's Sunday night, and as usual, I'm tired.
Work is good for you, I'm told, so I must be nearing perfection.  I work all the time at something.  The only time I hate work is when I can't seem to get anything done.  Then I get exasperated and depressed.
I finished the insulation on the wheel wells and floors of my 'Hobby Hut' today.  There is very little insulation in a camper, and the wheel wells are not insulated at all.  So, sinse I don't want to enrich the entire Arab world by paying a lot for heating, I decided to insulate the wheel wells my own way.  I took some 1/2" rubber mats and cut them to fit, then glued them in place with flooring adhesive.  I then taped the edges with duct tape.  Is there anything duct tape can't mend?
I then cut vinyl flooring to fit, and glued it over the rubber.  It sounds simple, but doing all this in a closet that's about the size of my jewelry box, standing on my head, made it just a bit more challenging.  I'm guessing that I had to scrub away twenty years of accumulated grime and mouse droppings, but those closets are so tight now, I'll bet they'll hold water.  Just so they keep the cold at bay.
I then cleaned the bathroom floor (still in the hut), and gave it another coat of paint.  My theory is that the paint makes the OSB smoother, so the self-stick tile will hold.  I found some green marble tile at a yard sale for $2.00 (for 48 square foot), so I'm using that.  I'm such a mizer!
Steve had helped me put down the OSB the last time he was home, and I sealed the seams with contractor's adhesive, painted, and sanded the floors.  This coat of paint makes it ready for the tile, which I hope to do tomorrow.
I had taken the doors off the cabinet under the sink last week, and painted them to freshen them.  The old hinges were badly rusted, so I'm springing for new ones from some hoard of hinges I have stored in the garage.
I buy things (often at yard sales) hoping that I'll have a use for them, and I (or a friend) usually do.
Glueing all that rubber and flooring in those closets was such a messy job.  I think I have some of that horrid adhesive under my bridgework.  It's EVERYWHERE!  I finally gave up and took a mop bucket of water out there to clean with.  But those closets are so nice, a drag queen wouldn't come out of them.
The floors of my hut are going to be so green!  But I love green...it's the color of life.  The walls were painted white when I bought the camper, and they're going to stay that way.  I think the fellow who sold it to me had gone in there with a paint sprayer and cut loose.  Even the toilet was painted with white spray.  It's out on the deck by the pool, waiting until I get the floor covering down, and then Steve will put it back for me. 
I don't do plumbing or wiring, because I can't tread water, and I don't like to dance with wires.
I can drive nails and pack in insulation, or even fix some leaks in a roof, but I have my limits.
I figure that if I fall off a roof, maybe I'll land on my 'granny-knot', and survive to tell about it.
I didn't cook dinner today, so Steve went up to the Subway and got us sandwiches.
I'm having the second half of mine for supper.
I don't know how anyone can eat all of a foot-long sandwich at one meal.
I talked with Barbara, my long-time girlfriend, today.  She's a totally different person on the phone than in person.  We usually talk several times a day, and often have lunch together at the Down Home.  We have a lot of common interests, particularly politics and religion.
She's Church of Christ, and I tease her relentlessly about being in a cult.
She takes it pretty well. 
I love their ACapella singing, and she usually buys me one of their CD's for holiday gift-giving.
I told her about my new blog/journal, and she asked me if this was a way of confessing my many sins.  Ha Ha.....she might learn some new tricks.
I'll make an instructional video.
My fibro is not too bad this evening, but the pain is always there.  It doesn't help to 'take it easy'.
I sleep on a magnetic mattress, but I can't tell if it helps.  I hate taking pain pills, but when you hurt so badly, you'll risk anything for relief.  Doctors hate to prescribe them, and if you're not bleeding or swollen, they act like you're faking it to get meds.  Yeah, right!  Like I want to get blitzed and miss out on my glamourous life.
Tomorrow's 'First Monday' at Morristown, but I won't go this month.  I love to go, but I have too much to do at home.
I need to get rid of some chickens, but a friend got his stolen, and I promised him I'd give him some when he got his coops repaired, so I'm keeping them to share with him.
He's an older gentleman, and I felt so sorry for him when he told me.
Thieves have no mercy or class distinctions, but they do understand fear.  I keep lots of guns, and I'm a good shot, so if they fool with me, they'd better be ready to meet God. 
I really like these cool nights.  It's nice to feel the warmth of a comforter on the bed.  I get up early, but if Steve is home, I do my on-line devotionals and then, often, will go back to bed.  He's so warm.
I've got to get a hot bath and get to bed.  My back hurts, and my fingers are sore from all the scrubbing and washing.
Every day above the dirt is a victory.

The Start of Something New

I've been told that I've led an interesting life, and it's certainly been busy and active.  So, I'm giving in the the many requests from family and friends and starting a journal.  I'll try to write something each day, but I'm not too good at keeping up with things any more, so I may miss a day sometimes.
I believe in working hard, and I drive myself and those around me relentlessly.  I have Fibromyalgia, so I figure, if I can work, so can people that I percieve to be well.
I raise exotic farm poultry, and I build all the housing and flight pens.  I have beef cattle, and I keep all the fences in repair.  I custom build all my gates and doors. 
I have several crafting hobbies, which I do on rainy days and at night, when I can't walk or stand up any longer.  I can't be idle.  I bought a camper and installed it in the back yard to keep the mess of my paints and parts out of the house.  I call it my "hut".
I was raised in Knox County, the 10th of 11 children, and my parents raised us all to maturity.
My father was 19 years older than my mother, so I never had a youthful father.  I remember him as being old and sick.  My mother was a very strict disiplinarian, and often hit and whipped all of us, so we were fairly afraid of her upsets.  Looking back, I think she must have been bi-polar.
Daddy was distant and did not like company.  I suppose we must have been lonely, but having never had friends to visit, we didn't know it.
My parents had a lot of money, but we lived like paupers.  Daddy griped constantly about money, and momma struggled to make do with what he would give her.  We often had to scrape mold off of food to serve it at  mealtimes.  I think those experiences have greatly influenced me, so I hoard.
My kitchen cabinets look like the IGA shelves.  My garages are full of furniture, implements, and bags/boxes of things I think I may need sometime.  My husband was raised very differently, so he gets frustrated with all the stuff I drag home with me.
We have a large, beautiful home, and I keep really nice things in the house, but there's too much of it.  I have three grand pianos and three organs, and I play all of them, but they take a lot of room.
I collect (and wear) hats, and they take a lot of closet space.
I love pretty shoes, and they take a lot of space.
I love antique furniture, and almost all of it is large and bulky.
I'm a clothes horse, and my closets are full.
Get the picture?
My husband says I'm writing too much for an initial post, so I'll ad more later, in other posts.
Love and Peace to all who enter.