Life is Busy

I can’t believe how long it has been since I last posted! I have been very busy between contracting for my former employer and painting; I will be the featured artist at a local restaurant in June.

Grant Park Home & Garden Tour
Our back garden was part of the Grant Park Tour on Mother’s Day weekend.  We spent several weekends before the tour doing all the things we would normally do over the course of spring/summer.  Exhausting, but worth it; we even got interviewed for an article in the AJC (although it only appeared in the online version). The garden looked lovely, and we spent two days talking with interesting people about plants, backyard chickens, and gardening in general. While our house wasn’t on the tour this year—you may remember we did this two years ago and it was a tremendous amount of work—we did have one person tell us they loved what we’d done inside.  Mr.Man jokingly told her that if we’d known she was coming we would have cleaned up a bit. Seems that with the backdoor open, she thought the house was on the tour as well.  She must have thought we didn’t take it very seriously as we were in the middle of doing laundry!

A Larger Flock
We added five hens to our flock a couple days ago, bringing us to nine. (This is bitter sweet, as we just lost our beautiful Ameraucana, Matilda.  We are not sure how she died; my daughter found her in the run with no apparent signs of injury.)  A good friend who is moving to Brooklyn in July needed to find homes for her flock, and we were excited to take a few.  So far the two flocks are keeping pretty much to themselves, with only Letty, our White Leghorn, moving between the two groups.  And, as is always the case, there is a little juxing for position, with one of my Reds asserting her dominance.  It is hard not to intervene when this happens, but as Mr. Man reminds me, we have to let them do what comes natural.

This is Ginger, a beautiful Ameraucana.

This beautiful lady is Beatrice, a Barred Rock, which I have always wanted.

Betty is a mix between an Ameraucana (which lay blue eggs) and possibly an Australorp (which lay brown eggs) this causes her to lay olive green eggs and she is often referred to as an 'Easter Egger'.

This lovely lady is Maude, she is a Lavender Orpington.

And this crazy-looking chick is Phyllis (those of you over 40 will get the reference). She is a Polish Crested hen who runs around like the Road Runner. 

They have spent the first couple of nights outside the coop—the first night, the above mention Red actually stood in the door to the coop with a menacing expression (I swear it’s true! She had her wings on her hips and I could have sworn I heard her whisper, “Make my day.”)—and as it was raining, Mr. Man and I had to quickly build a temporary shelter and roust for them. They slept there last night as well, even without Goldie standing sentry. They did make their way inside the coop today and things seem a little friendlier. We have some changes planned to the hen house and coop that should be taking place soon.

Goldie, a.k.a., 'The Boss'

Temporary shelter and roust

Rebound the Hound

It’s no secret that I love my neighborhood. I’ve lived many places in my adult life, but Grant Park is the only place where I have known the majority of my neighbors and consider many of them friends. This is the kind of neighborhood where people stop to chat while out walking the dog; where going to the neighborhood farmer’s market is as much about seeing and catching up with friends as it is purchasing wonderful, locally grown organic food; where you can run across the street to snip some rosemary from your neighbor’s garden or borrow a missing ingredient for the night’s dinner. So it is really no surprise that when the warehouse of our local pet supply store, Intown Healthy Hound, was broken into and robbed of approximately $30,000 worth of pet food that our community stepped up to help them out.

Thanks to the incredible efforts of friend and neighbor Phred Huber who organized a fundraising event last night at Hodgepodge Coffeehouse & Gallery and generous food, beer and wine donations from local restaurants, 5 Seasons Westside, Caramba Cafe, Dakota Blue, Home Grown, and Six Feet Under to name a few—there was someone who delivered endless boxes of pizza!—and many hardworking and enthusiastic volunteers, we were able to raise a good amount of money to start them on their way to recovering from such a big loss. 

It was a packed house as people milled around sampling food, listening to awesome live music, and talking to fellow friends and neighbors. And, when Phred announced we needed another $180 to meet our goal, people stepped up, opening their wallets once more to make it happen. It was inspiring! But our work isn’t done, if you live in Grant Park or one of the surrounding neighborhoods, please stop by Intown Health Hound to buy pet supplies and/or bathe your dog. And, please thank Hodgepodge Coffeehouse and the other wonderful restaurants with your patronage, and let them know how much we appreciate them and their efforts. It is truly amazing what a community can do when it pulls together!

The Elusive Ezra Willis

Minnie Frances Palmer

I am a researcher at heart; give me a computer and a few free hours, and I can lose myself and all sense of time.  Over the last decade or so I have been fascinated and many times frustrated by researching my family tree.  In the first few years, I spent quite a bit of time in front of the computer, making connections, checking facts/sources, and sending off for public records.  I was able to establish a foundation of people within each of the major branches of my family from which to build on over the years.  There are times I hit a wall, and after many frustrating hours/days/weeks/months, I walk away for a time.  But, it is never far from my mind, and all I need is one hit, just one good bit of information and I’m back in, hook, line and sinker.  I sound like an addict... well, maybe I am just a bit addicted to genealogy. 

There is one person that I return to time and again, one who frustrates me above all others—Ezra Willis, my maternal grandmother’s father.  He was not a presence in her life, and on top of that, she didn’t like to speak much about the past.  When she did, she recounted stories that have left me baffled.  

My grandmother Rosa was essentially an only child; at least the only child born to Ezra and her mother, Minnie Francis Palmer.  There was another child, but unfortunately he didn’t live long, dying within the first year of life.  My cherubic great-grandmother had two subsequent husbands, but no further children. 

Rosa Willis

Once Rosa told my sister that she had had a brother and that they lived for a time in a boarding house in Chicago.  When it was time to move on, my grandmother’s mother (Minnie) didn’t have the money to pay what they owed, so she left her son behind in servitude.  According to my grandmother, she never saw him again.  Now the only son I can find, in all my years of research, is the son who died within a few months of birth.  See what I mean about baffling?  There is no one to confirm this story, not even my own mother who had never heard this before.  

My grandmother also told me she had a [half] brother named Eugene.  I even have a picture of them from when he visited my grandparents’ farm when my mother was still a girl.  Who was Eugene’s mother and did he have a family?  If so, where were they?  You can see how this might nag at someone like me.  I have been able to continue my research past Erza, finding his father and mother—Billy Willis and Almina Lavanway (I tell you this only to help in following along)—and each of their parents, and even their parents’ parents.  Finding a woman’s maiden name can sometimes be a challenge, as most often they are listed only by their married name.  But, they did sometimes give a son or daughter their family name as a middle name; this tradition has made my research possible. 

Eugene Willis and Rosa

So, why do I keep coming back to Erza?  Because I want to know what became of him—he was born in 1880; that really wasn’t that long ago.  Even if he only lived until he was sixty, it would have been 1940; you would think I would be able to find something about him.  And, I want to find my grandmother’s brother Eugene, whom she named a son after.  After his marriage ended to Minnie Francis, Erza seems to disappear.  The only grandfather my mother ever new was George Watson, Minnie’s third husband.  Even then she only knew him as “Grandpa Watson” (it took a bit searching to find his given name).  Thank G*d for the Federal Census, truly a genealogist’s best friend.

Recently, I have made what may be a breakthrough; although I hesitate to get excited—and definitely won’t add any information to my tree until I can do more work to connect some dots.  I have found an Ezra B. Willis who was born in Michigan (where my Ezra was born) around the same time as my Ezra.  This Ezra excites me (I know, I know) only because he had a son, you guessed it... Eugene!  

Ezra B. moved around a lot, which could explain why he’s been so elusive: from Michigan to Colorado where he married Edith (surname unknown) in 1909 and had a son named Clarence; then to Kansas where he married Rosemary Woodward in 1920 with whom he had Eugene (born in Missouri in 1922), Rosella, Joseph and Jesse; and then to Oklahoma where he married Catheline (surname unknown) and had two further children: a son, Billy (remember, Ezra's father’s name was Billy) and a daughter, Joaquita.  Eugene and Rosella are listed as living with them in Oklahoma in the 1940 Federal Census.  This was before birth control and men tended to have children well into their older years; Ezra is close to sixty at the time of the census and his wife is 23, just five years older than Eugene.  

So far there is more argument against this being my Ezra than for, like the fact that Rosa would have been 20 years older than him, but until I’ve exhausted all available resources, I at least have a possibility.

Dedicated to my grandmother: Rosa Mae (Willis) Otto, 1902-2001.

What is a Father?

According to Wikipedia a “father (or dad) is defined as a male parent or individual progenitor of human offspring…[t]he verb "to father" means to procreate or to sire a child from which also derives the gerund "fathering".”  Is providing DNA truly what makes one a father…a “dad”?  Or is fathering more about nurturing a child, providing for them, encouraging and guiding them? 

On Father’s Day every year, I think about this relationship.  For me, a “dad” is not the progenitor of human offspring; he is the person who loves and cares for a child.  This stems, of course, from my personal experience; from my relationship with the man I called dad and the relationship my daughter has with my husband, whom she calls dad.  Most people who know me understand that when I talk about my dad, I’m referring to my step-father, Bill Paden; the man who loved me as his own, took me with him on gigs, helped me get my first job, taught me to drive, and walked me down the aisle. 

He had a ready smile, a love of music, and a great sense of humor.  I remember many a night accompanying my mother when he played the piano and saxophone with, first, Joe Penny and the Penny Pinchers at the Elks Club or local watering hole—somehow I always managed to be admitted—and later, with the Wind Jammers.  He would get lost in the music, pounding on the keys with abandon, eyes closed, foot taping, head swaying to the time of the music; always with a huge grin on his face…always.  People loved him; he was gregarious, outgoing, and friendly—he never met a stranger.  He also had a joke for every occasion and loved a good practical joke. 

He was not my father, but he was my dad.  I miss him.

Mission Accomplished! A Bathroom Renovation Story

The bathroom renovation is complete! 

Well, 99% complete.  The only thing left to do is to install the shower enclosure (the ring that the shower curtain hangs from, which attaches to the ceiling and shower).

Unfortunately, when I ordered it, I ordered a 60” enclosure—because the tub is 5’, I thought this was the right size.  I was wrong.  Signature Hardware was great in helping me exchange it for the 54”, which should be arriving in the next week or two.

  

I love how the french country table I found at Scott’s turned out as the base for the sink.  Mr. Man cut a U in the drawer to fit around the plumbing underneath (I still need to stain the wood).  It looks great! 

 

And the faucet?  Totally worth the splurge.  

I love the vintage look with the bead board and custom-made shelf. 

And, last but certainly not least, the pocket door!  Before the door opened out into the hallway, taking up the entire space.  We had to reduce the width of the door frame, which meant redoing the drywall in the central hallway; you can see that we still have to get the chair rail put in, but I’ve been unable to find a piece that matches the chair railing we currently have.  

So, to review...

 Before: Old scary shower...

After: refinished claw-foot tub/shower; the bathroom feels so much bigger without the wall and awful brass framed shower door.

Before: old ugly console sink with brass hardware and awful lighting fixture... 

After: new vintage table sink, custom-made mirror, and beautiful vintage lighting.

Before: who could forget the old, gaudy wallpaper?!?...
  

After: new bead board and paint, as well as new dual flush toilet.  

What’s next?  Mr. Man wants to build the built-in bookcases we’ve always wanted in the study.  Stay tuned...

“Your baby is in the road!”

Driving up a narrow, two-lane, residential, mountain road on my way to the farm on Monday, I rounded a curve and glimpsed a toddler in the road.  Yes, I said a toddler; between 18-24 months of age, he was standing in the middle of the oncoming lane, holding a bottle between his teeth by the nipple.  Slowing down as I completed the curve, I scanned for the adults who must surely accompany him.  Imagine my shock as I realized he was alone!  I rolled to a stop beside him, sounding the horn of my car while frantically searching the surrounding area, keeping an eye on the child, the oncoming lane, and the road behind me all at the same time. 

I spotted movement beside a house set approximately 50 yards back from the road; a man was using electric clippers to trim some overgrown shrubs.   I resumed honking the horn without letting up, while still keeping an eye on the child and watching for any approaching cars (of which, thankfully, there were none).  The man shut of the clippers and I screamed “Your baby is in the road!”  Instantly, he dropped the clippers and sprinted to the boy, and ashen faced, scooped him up into his arms.   Young, somewhere in his late-twenties, and totally freaked out, he stuttered “Oh my G*d, he snuck out of the house,” followed by a grateful, “Thank you so much.” 

What is most shocking thing about this story, surprisingly, isn’t the baby in the road, it is the SUV a few yards in front of me who drove right passed the child without stopping.  When did we become a society that cares so little for others that you could drive passed a baby, standing alone, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD?!  I was unspeakably angry.  I wanted to hunt this person down and shake him or her.  To read them the riot act.  To do... something; I don’t know what.  But something, anything, to make them understand the sheer despicableness of what they had done.  

I thought of this child all day, and coming home that evening, I drove that road with increased caution and reduced speed, with the thought of that baby at the forefront of my mind, while trying hard NOT to imagine what could have happened.  

I know this will forever haunt that young father, the “what if”.

Looking for Salvaged Door Casings

We are a couple weeks behind schedule on the bathroom renovation; mostly due to trying to find casings to match the existing ones in the house, and Floor & Décor messing up our tile order.  Mr. Man and I picked out this tile before we started the project—1” white, tan & brown tumbled marble mosaic in 1’ x 1’ sheets—but didn’t purchase it.  We wanted to keep our options open in case we found something either cheaper or that we liked more.  When we did go to purchase it, they no longer had enough.  I’ll spare you the details, but take a tip from me, when you find what you want, buy it.  Don’t wait.  The tile is down and looks amazing (shown without grout below).   

The bathroom has been primed and painted, and Mr. Man has built the mirror frame I drew out; purchasing a custom-sized mirror from Modern Glass & Mirror Co.  Today, he and Troy are busy putting up the bead board. 

Custom mirror frame

Mr. Man and his new toy

I’ve been unable to find the casings that match what’s in the rest of the house.  I’ve gone to three different stores and everyone’s initial response has been, “hmmm, that’s old.”  Yep, early 1900’s to be exact.  At Atlanta Millwork they can make it for us, but we’d have to pay for a custom knife to be made at a cost of $300+ and then the cost of the casings at $1.57 a foot.  Not going to happen.  I visited Atlanta Salvage, thinking this would be my best bet.  No luck.  We are going to reuse the casings we have on the exterior of the bathroom door, where it will be noticeable if they don’t match the rest of the house, and are settling for something similar for the interior.

We’ve decided to increase the size of the baseboards to what would be traditional for a Victorian bungalow; 10”-12” (we will then slowly change out all the baseboards throughout the house, which are currently only 4”).  We will be putting in 12”-14” plinths, which also would be traditional to the age and style of the house, but weren’t put in when the house was renovated.  Instead, the past owners settled or piecing in cuts of casing, as seen in the picture above—I’ve always hated how it looks.

The electrician will install the light fixtures next week and I’ll spend time painting the bead board.  Then next weekend, hopefully, we’ll be putting things into place and hooking up the plumbing.  Cross your fingers for us.

Chrishi Beach

The wind has finally died down on this, our last day in Nevis.  We all opt to spend the day lazing in the sun, swimming, and drinking rum punch.  We pack up and make our way to Chrishi Beach.  Hand’s down this is the best beach on Nevis.  There is a bar/restaurant and comfortable lounge chairs under thatched-roofed umbrellas, as well as a few raised-platform, open-sided cabanas.  The sand is soft, and the water is, of course, gorgeous.  Oh, how I wish we had discovered this spot earlier in the week!  The water right in front of us has a few big rocks just below the surface and some good-sized waves are rolling in, in fairly rapid succession, but wandering down the beach a bit you can wade out passed the rocks to a sandy-bottomed, calm swimming area. The water is cool—although warmer than it has been—and is refreshing after spending a while in the sun.

 

We have the place almost to ourselves and are enjoying the quiet when a group of 20-somethings show up.  With a vast area to choose from, they decide to set up camp right beside us and proceed to disrupt our solitude.  This seems like a good time to get out of the sun anyway and head for the shade of the cabanas.  We reposition ourselves, and, again, settle in for a tranquil day at the beach.

It has been a wonderful week, and we hate for it to end, soaking up every last minute of sun before heading to the house to prepare for dinner at Coconut Grove. 

My TripAdvisor review of Coconut Grove:

“We feel fortunate to have decided on Coconut Grove for our final dinner on Nevis.  First, the open-air building with its high, thatched roof is a beautiful and fitting setting for a tropical island meal.  Gary, the owner, is a sommelier and maintains a sizable wine cellar.  Even though we didn't have a reservation we were shown to a table overlooking the beach and water.  The service is also the best we experienced on the island; better even than the Four Seasons. But, by far the best thing about this restaurant is the food.  We started our meal with the onion soup, lobster bisque and 2 way yellow fin tuna.  The onion soup was rich in flavor although low on onions and a little too much toast for my taste, but the flavor was excellent and I was tempted to eat every mouthful and risk being too full to do my entree justice.  The lobster bisque was equally flavorful and rich.  I wish we had another night so that I could go again and have a bowl of this all to myself.  Gary seemed to thoroughly enjoy the tuna, eating every bite with a look of pleasure on his face.  For entrees we had grilled spiny lobster, mahi mahi, and the Creole style seafood stew.  The lobster was huge and grilled perfectly, firm but not dry (my only complaint would be that the butter served alongside was not salted; why bother).  The mahi mahi was reportedly delicious and presented with a lovely fan of vegetables.  The seafood stew also got two thumbs up.  For dessert, we shared the chocolate soufflé which was to die for! I think I ate most of it myself, even though I was unable to finish all my lobster.”