Dirt should be easy!

Finding dirt to put into the poo-hole composting toilet should be easy, but it's not! It's hard!  It has to be fancy chi-chi dirt or your poo hole won't compost correctly. That's why the thieves at Envirolet get away with charging you $100 for a Box Of Dirt.

Thieves.

The Captain nearly had a seizure when he had to pay that much money for dirt. So, off we went to the Internet to mine it for wisdom. Bio-Let, another composting toilet manufacturing company, has the decency to put their dirt recipe online. It includes all manner of weird and exotic items, like high fibrous blond Canadian sphagnum peat moss, perlite, buckwheat hulls, and dried molasses.  Oh, how I wish that were a joke.

After a bit more digging, we've discovered that most potting soil contains the right kind of peat moss, perlite and garden-variety dirt. Sneaky buggers. Why didn't they just say "potting soil"?!

After still more digging, we've reached the point where we're browsing the inventory at farm co-op stores to source the remaining supplies for our dirt project. We've found everything so far except for the dried molasses. I can find it online, but nowhere that will ship to Canada. By Saturday. Because we are OUT of poo-hole chi-chi dirt, and if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that you do Not want to mess with the harmony of your poo-hole. 

We're still going to have to pay for our fancy dirt, but we'll have a LOT more fancy dirt for the same price.

I really hope this doesn't screw up the poo-hole.

GDPH part three, revenge of the poo-hole

I bet you never thought, when you started reading this blog, that you'd be stuck reading so much about our terlet.

When we returned this spring, one of the first jobs to be tackled was clearing out and firing up the poo-hole. The Captain did his work dutifully, and within minutes, it was up and running again.  

After a short time, the dreaded green cloud of poo-hole stink began to waft through the bathroom. Oh no! Not again! The dingdangdongdarned fan had packed it in again. (Remember: one fan draws fresh air into the holding tank, one fan pulls the funky rank moist air out of the holding tank. The air circulation by these two fans is what dries out the glop in the tank and helps it to break down into compost.) I'm guessing you won't need two guesses to figure out which of the two fans packed up on us. When the only fan working is the intake fan, it pushes the funky stink out the seat into the bathroom.  Yuck!

[shakes an angry fist at the gods]

Handy Dad suggested a Red Green repair: We get a big, square, room fan, place it under the poo-hole chute at a 45 degree angle and bwap anything coming down the chute out the far side of the cottage. Of course, the neighbours on that side of us would most likely stop speaking to us rather quickly. (Yes, bwap is a verb.. Go on and try to tell me that you don't know exactly what that means).

Here are some of the technical drawings from that discussion:

 

Handy Dad was joking (when does he not?), but it did give us a good laugh while we contemplated another year fighting the poo hole. 

The Captain donned his coveralls and went back under the cottage. Fortunately the one fan was just a bit stuck after sitting idle all winter, and started spinning again with a little nudge.  Phew! Stink bullet dodged!

I'm sure the neighbours are happier too. 

Back at long last....

You know you've had a hectic weekend at the cottage when you have one, single, lonely photo to attest to the fact that you were even there. At least it's a good one!

I can't believe the May 2-4 weekend was our very first chance to go open up the cottage for the season. What a crazy weather year with all the flooding. You can see in the graph below where the normal peak occurred and then it suddenly surged even higher before dropping. There was no damage for us (the lake can absorb quite a bit of water), but it meant the marina docks were all under water longer than expected.

We were neck-deep in dance competitions anyway, so it's probably just as well we couldn't get to the cottage. I get very bitter when I have to sit in a dark, loud theatre all day when I know the sun and the cottage are sitting there waiting for me.

Since we had some extra time before the boat needed to go into the water, the captain sent it off to a nearby marina to get a tune-up for the boat motor. It's old, and it's been limping since the day we bought it, and lately has been stalling at low idle (does "lemon" have one M or two?). We were shocked to learn from the marina-man that it's only running on two cylinders (again), and it's also suffering from some nasty irreparable scoring. Ugh.

We've instructed him to reassemble the motor as is, and are hoping we can limp through some of this summer on the faulty motor. This is definitely going to be its last season, however. Operation "Quick Buy A Boat!" is in full swing. Hopefully the money tree we planted will mature in time.

In the meantime we are fully dependent upon Handy Dad for transportation to and from the cottage. (Drawback to having an island cottage: when you have no boat, you have no cottage!)

We do have the option of hiring a water taxi to ferry us over, but we're keeping that in our pocket for plan B.

We're trying to decide what to get this time. We seem to have contrary boat requirements: I need a stable people/stuff transporter from the marina to the island (pontoon?). The captain wants a zippy, powerful water-toy he can use for water-skiing (ski boat). Those are very different boats. Hopefully we'll have time to research and make the right decision.

Please, That Damned Boat try to last the summer?

Spike!

I love line graphs. This one in particular:

It's shows the water level on Rice Lake. The spike in the graph represents the high water level from the Spring run off. When the spike settles back to normal levels, that's the all clear that we can put the boat into the water.

Whee!!

Improving the ugly cupboard - Electrical panel art project - part 3

This last weekend marked the final stage of the Great Electrical Panel Obfuscation Project of 2012 (or GEPOPO 2012).

Before we left the house, I tried to scuff up the front surface of the sign by dragging it face-first down the drive (yes, really). It didn't make much difference though. Curse you, Benjamin Moore and your amazing paint adhesion!

Satisfied that I had tried everything in my arsenal to distress it, I carefully wrapped it up in a tarp, taped it, and even tied it with twine before the captain put it on the roof rack to transport it to the cottage. Not because I wanted to protect it from dings and scrapes, but more because I didn't want to have to wash off a sheen of bug guts when we got there.

Getting it into the boat was fun. It's not exactly tiny, and just moments before I had managed to put out my back, so, ya. Fun.

Crossing to the cottage was even more fun. The winds on the lake were whipping, and the giant panel made an excellent sail. Fun x 2.

Once at the cottage, and with the help of able-bodied Handy Dad and with me spectating from my chair, they set to work removing the pathetic excuse for a cupboard that was making a very poor attempt at hiding the electrical panel.

As expected, it was expertly assembled, with left-over pine tongue-and-groove panelling tacked onto left-over wall panelling (The stuff with the trees printed on it) to form the doors. The outer case was a box made of scrap wood. The triangular hole at the top of the cupboard, created by the too-short wall panelling, was cleverly hidden by a piece of wood that was held in place by the phone wire protruding from the wall.

I am very serious.

This is Handy Dad contemplating the phone wire, which he later coiled up and hid from view within the wall.

With the ugly cabinet down and the hardware removed (3 or 4 types of screw drivers and a pry-bar needed to remove the bits that were hammered in), they added the hinge and fastener hardware to the big sign and hung it up on the wall.

When it's closed, you'd never know there was an electrical panel behind it, and there's no telephone wire poking out into the room anymore, either.

It adds a fun block of colour to a very drab corner, and most importantly, covers up that ugly electrical panel in a much more attractive way.

And it really didn't cost much, so years down the road, when I get sick of it and want something new, I can just haul it down and paint it with something different. Neat!

Here's one more photo taken during the day with my expensive camera and slightly-less-orange lighting (darned cell-phone camera)

I FOUND THE SHEETS!

Remember the Lost Sheets? I found them!

Well, alright, the truth will out. The Captain found them when they were closing up the bunky.

I was starting to think that I had imagined buying them but here they are!

HOORAY! I'M NOT INSANE!

...about sheets, at least.

They had been left in a non-descript black garbage bag in the bunky since they went missing. Probably earlier because I didn't even remember having them at the time they were discovered lost.

Yay!

Happy Thanksgiving!

The lake was angry, the cottage was cold, and I managed to put my back out loading the boat.

Hurrah...

Not the greatest start to a Thanksgiving long weekend that's going to be spent closing up the cottage!

The lake was very rough as we crossed to the island. The winds were 35 km/h from the southwest with gusts up to 48, which is the perfect recipe for white caps and extremely choppy water on the lake. I though the captain was going to swamp us on the approach to the dock when he had to reverse and the waves came crashing over the transom at the back of the boat (as opposed to the transom at the front of the boat? Nicely redundant, miss.)

Excitement!

We also had our first immersion test of our Baja bags (we transport our clothes back and forth in Baja bags to keep everything dry.) when the wee lad let one slip off the dock. Whoops! Fortunately, everything inside stayed reasonably dry. The topmost item had a few wet spots on it, but I don't know how much of that was from the outside of the bag as I opened it, vs actual leakage.

The captain bravely ventured into the poo hole once we unloaded the boat, hoping that, after a month away, it wouldn't be too horrendously disgusting, and he might be able to empty it a bit before the winter. He said "it still wasn't pleasant", but for the first time since we took possession of the damned thing, it was dry in the bottom and the compost was compost-y. Could it be that we've finally, through trial-and-error and no thanks at all to the unsupportive heels at Envirolet, figured out the right setup to make the poo-hole work?!?! *thud* <--- that's me figuratively falling off my chair in shock (if I literally fell off my chair right now, I think I'd be stuck on the floor until the captain returned. "help! I've fallen and I can't get up")

We've managed (through judicious application of baseboard heaters, space heaters, and garlic bread in the oven) to get the uninsulated cottage up to an almost cosy 19 degrees overnight. The temperature outside was 2 degrees, so I was glad for the heaters. You know it's cool inside when the kids camp out in front of the space heater.

We had to tape all around the sliding door to keep the gusts of wind outside from coming inside.

Thus far, my gimpy back remains very painful (twisting, sitting, standing, walking, all yield winces of sharp pain). I have, however, made considerable headway on two crocheted hats. (there's not much else to do when you're confined to a chair all day long). Did I mention my butt was flat? Because it is.

Currently, the wee princess is keeping me company, knitting on the couch while I crochet, while we wait for the lad and the captain to return from the lad's hockey game back in town today.

The lake is quiet, the colours of the leaves are beautiful, and the cottage is peaceful. Today there is a lot to be thankful for. Except for back pain and flat butts. I'm not super thankful for that.