As the weather has been so brutally cold these past few weeks I have found myself developing cabin fever. So on Saturday, as a way to relieve the boredom, I decided to go to Lowes and pick out some paint for the exterior of the house. This would only take about half an hour of my day which would leave me time to do a little shopping before returning home to feed the dogs.

At 2pm I was standing at in the paint department, deciding if I wanted to play it safe and go with "Boring Tan" or "Blah Beige" (as advised by a local Realtor) when along came "Bob" (not his real name). Smiling brightly Bob pulled himself up to his full height (of about 5'2"), adjusted his belt, and launched into his intro:

"You don't want paint"

"I don't?" I responded somewhat startled, after all, I had been pretty sure I did.

"Nope. What you want is vinyl siding. It will improve the exterior of your house, it's easy to clean, and best of all it will add value to your property".

Before I could say "satin finish", I had been wisked away to the building supply section where I spent the next two hours fondling vinyl siding samples in an assortment of colours.

Now "Bob" didn't come across as a very good salesman (he tended to wander off in his thoughts and mumbled a bit) but I was willing to hear his pitch because - I was in Lowes and a sales person was trying to assist me! A rare thing indeed.

Even though I knew I wasn't in the market for vinyl siding, I listened dutifully as he explained how easy it was to apply, how much I was going to save, square footage per box and all that other stuff I should care about but don't... And before I knew it, it was 4pm and I still hadn't got my paint chips. Making excuses and insisting on now much I hate vinyl siding made no difference, Bob had me captive... and he knew it. Eventually, seeing my reluctance to buy vinyl siding, he made the lateral (and bold) move towards replacement windows. Poor Bob, if only he could see the state of my bank account. But wait, he has an answer to that too, Lowes Special Project Loans (also known as a credit card).

Bob explained to me, in great depth and detail, the benefits of Lowes windows. He raced up and down aisles pointing out first one style and then another. He broke into a selling frenzy when I mentioned that I had 27 windows. He was unstoppable. When I explained that I simply didn't have the money to replace them he laughed as one might at a simpleton. I did, he replied, if I would only consider the benefits of vinyl siding, all that money saved (on paint alone) would pay for the windows. I'm not sure where Bob went to school but I couldn't make those numbers work.

An hour into his windows presentation I began to sway. I had dressed for below freezing temperatures, not the (now) oppressive heat of a store. I tore open my coat, dragged my scarf from around my neck and started to fan myself with vinyl siding literature. Bob took my striping as a sign to push forward. He took his pitch up a notch handing me glossy brochures and price lists. I was beginning to get giddy. I found myself agreeing to his suggestions. Nodding at overpriced options. Accepting more and more pieces of paper. Thinking seriously about having them send someone out to "measure me up".

Finally, Bob regretfully informed me that his shift was over but if I came back on Monday he could help me some more. Coming to my senses, I saw my escape! I ran for it. Frazzled and sweaty, pausing only briefly to grab a handful of paint samples, I made it to freedom. On the drive home I giggled at the situation. I really, really hate vinyl siding. Did he truly think I was one of those people who could be easily influenced?

It was 7pm when I got home. I lay the paint samples before me and decided that I am tired of playing it safe. I was going to pick the dark blue/grey shade for the exterior and maybe paint the doors a glossy red. Pleased that I had escaped from Lowes in one piece, and had finally made a firm decision about the renovations to the house, I tossed away the brochures I wouldn't be using. I could already hear the neighbours declaring that the house had never looked better. A bidding war would ensue over ownership of my beautifully painted house. Oh yes, I was pleased with myself.

The dogs grumbled something about what time do you call this, and what's for dinner as I pushed them outside for their early evening walk. Standing at the back door a thought struck me.... vinyl siding might not be such a bad idea and the house sure could use some new windows...

All she needs is a little lipstick...

I recently received a letter from my insurance company. It seems that they have decided to do a "drive by" to check on the exterior of my house. Should said exterior not meet with their standards, they will not be renewing my insurance. Both my home and my personal exterior need some work. I have been putting off painting the outside of the house until I could get the inside together (um, sort of the way I have been delaying the hair cut I so desperately need, buying new clothing or losing weight).

Replacing some cracked siding and painting the house was something I knew I should have tackled last summer, but fear got the better of me. I had it on my list of things to do this coming Spring but, of course they would decide to view my home now, in the middle of January, when the whole world is frozen. The house looked better a few weeks ago but since then the (once pretty) snow on my front lawn has been turned a delicate yellow by my dogs and I am in the middle of a turf war with my next door neighbour.

After my initial panic attack I have come to a conclusion: I am going to cancel my coverage before they can cancel it for me. I know, it's a risk, but I can use those monthly premiums towards buying the paint to get the job done. I have been unhappy with my insurance company for some time and so I have chosen to see this setback as an oportunity to find a new one. Looking back on the past years worth of bills I see that my policy has jumped from $60 a month to $91.25... yet my local Realtor insists that house prices have dropped significantly...so why would the insurance company feel that my house would suddenly cost more to replace in the event of a fire?

I spent much of the day on the Sherwin Williams site looking for paint colours, is it just me or do the new palettes seem to have been created by colour blind morons? I just can't see painting my house tan with yellow trim and pale blue doors. Tomorrow, while the kids are at their library group, I will take a look at Lowes to see if they have anything I can live with. Lowes is going to be cheaper of course. Paying upwards of $80 a gallon (for exterior paint) is not in my budget right now.

Maybe while I am out I will treat myself to something new...the house isn't the only thing in need of a little tlc. Good thing I don't have life insurance - they might have decided to do a drive by too :)

The Winter of Our Discontent...

Here's the thing about self-sufficient living: Living in the country is nothing like those glossy magazines would have you believe. Nothing will go right. You do not have enough money to remodel that "beautiful old house with original details". That shiny SUV you bought when you left the city (because country folk need SUV's right?) will need many, many (expensive) repairs at the hands of an inexperienced village mechanic. The locals won't speak to you but they will charge you three times what the locals pay for the same service. Your garden will fail and you will find yourself, at times, more lonely than you could ever have imagined. All my dreams were made sitting in Barnes and Noble, flipping through Country Living Magazine, sipping designer coffee. When I told my friends and coworkers that I was moving to the countryside, they called me a Renaissance Woman and envied me my good fortune. What we all failed to see is that life outside the city is more like The Money Pit than Green Acres.

By the winter of 2005/2006 my marriage was on the rocks. I would like to blame the house, she was after all more demanding than a mistress, but that was not the case. I am sure that living in three small rooms with two small children and a (by now angry and discontented) adult son played its part, but that was only a small measure of the problems that had taken our once rock solid marriage and pounded it to dust. What passed between us is no longer important. This is the story of how my children and I came back from the edge, not the rehash of a story you have heard too often.

After the divorce I would lie in bed, staring at the repairs that needed to be made, and wonder what the hell I was thinking when I bought this place? It was going to be our own private paradise. Free from a mortgage we were supposed to be a happy family, living well, self-sufficient, no more money worries. But nothing had gone right from the first day. Nothing. Seven years on I was still frustrated and anxious (and now a single parent with two little girls to provide for). I still spent too much time worrying about money (on the day of my divorce I had $42 to my name), hiding how bad things were from my children and, for a while, running from one health problem to another. Selling the house was not an option because at least here there is no rent to pay. I became momentarily paralyzed by fear. But time passed (as it does) and eventually I found myself, if not stronger, then more resilient. I put away my anger, and despair, and made a conscious decision to improve my life.

It is January 2011. I am alone in my country dream house with two children to support. My son is long gone (destination unknown), my ex is remarried and living in a centrally heated home in a nearby city. I have been unemployed (outside the home)for many years, still have not made a single friend in the village....and I don't have a car. But I am still standing. Call me optimistic but today I am pouring through seed catalogs and planning my vegetable garden for Spring.

I have no idea what I am doing but at least this time I acknowledge that. I sold my glossy country life books and have given away my back copies of Mother Earth (I found nothing of any real use in that magazine). I now borrow DIY manuals from the library and spend hours researching ways to "do it myself". And here dear reader is where you find me eight years on... back at the beginning.

This blog will detail my joys and disappointments, my successes and my failures. I will try to be as honest as I can. If you have a comment please feel free to leave me a message. I ask only that you keep your replies civil.

Making the most of it...

Within months of moving into the house we discovered that we needed: new wiring, new plumbing, a new kitchen, new bathrooms and a new heating system. None of this was a big surprise but the cost to replace it all was...

We made the repairs our modest budget would allow, we repaired the roof, some of the electrical system, we installed a pellet stove and we had the bathroom moved to a more convenient location not that having the bathroom in a tiny, walled off, part of the den was inconvenient...but having everyone sing very loudly whenever anyone wanted to use the "facilities" became exhausting.

Our money ran out pretty quickly so we spent the next year "camping" out in the den. My two youngest children thought it was great. I was not so pleased as my kitchen consisted of one electric ring, a microwave and a toaster oven. I made three meals aday in that tiny "kitchen" including several holiday meals and three birthday cakes. I did treat myself to a mini fridge (our large, modern fridge having been left for the people who bought our old house).

It would be three years before I would get a new kitchen range...

Red Rose?

Have you seen the movie Red Rose? The one where the house controls the owners, demanding constant love and affection in the form of additions and repairs? Eventually the house turns on the owner and tries to destroy them...welcome to my very own Red Rose.

We moved in in March 2002, two days later the ceiling in the den fell in leaving us looking at a patch of grey sky. Emergency repairs were quickly made with the assistance of a blue tarp and some nails. Three hours later the tarp was torn and flapping in the wind. More repairs and several hours later we figured out that we could use wood to hold the tarps in place. Disaster averted for now, we felt very pleased with ourselves, so I made a warming meal on my single ring elecgtric hotplate (no kitchen) and we celebrated our intelligence. How hard was this? We were Renassiance people. We were big city dwellers and we could take on anything that life threw us. Masters of this mini universe and all that.

The following day we discovered that the heating system didn't work, the house was insulated with sawdust, the electrical system was literally "hair raising" and the toilet was in imminent danger of dropping into the basement. So much for the cheerful home inspector telling me what a great deal I was getting. A quick calculation revealed that we would need at least $40,000 to make the house "comfortable". We had $3,000 in our bank account. Never one to give up, I moved my family into three rooms and we began our big adventure.

Paradise found

2002: Life was chaotic to say the least, I had just given birth to my third (and last) child. I was post-partum, on crutches (due to a fall) and nursing a c-section scar. Our house had sold within three weeks and we had nowhere to live. We had rented a house for a few months but the landlord decided not to pay his mortgage,water bill or taxes so, unexpectedly, we found ourselves in dire need of a home. In desperation I went searching online....and there she was, a seventeen room beauty with enough history to suit a transplanted Brit. Best of all, she was within our price range (dirt cheap). For me it was love at first sight - the house had other ideas...