A Lesson From a Mourning Dove

This morning, I sat on my back stoop during my morning ritual, during which a mourning dove (after scaring the shit out of my wife and I after taking off from the side of the house right over the door we just exited) kept flying all around the backyard. It was rhythmic, too - the typical squeaking if you will, as the dove takes off and flies to its destination.

And then I noticed a pattern. The dove would fly off to the side of the house where I had no view, and then fly back, once over to where Philip was peacefully munching on his green leafy weeds, and then back to his spot on the side of the house. Then back to over past the treeline into the neighbor's yard, and back to his spot. And I watched the dove. Every time it went out, it came back with a small twig betwixt its beak.

And then it dawned on me. It was nesting.

Persistently, one twig at a time, one shriveled up leaf at a time, dutifully back and forth.

And then I directed my thoughts inward. That is exactly what I am doing right now. After the events of the last year, one by one things are coming back. And we're accomplishing the task of making our nest, if you will, one flight, one twig, one leaf at a time. We're saving for vacations for the first time. Not a sponsor but the Ibotta app is helping with that, just yesterday I cashed out my first $20. One gallon of milk, one dozen eggs, one box of cereal at a time. One car payment, one cleaning job, one lawn mowing job, one bag of cans, one old outfit that doesn't fit anymore being sold, one penny, dime, quarter at a time. And what we are building is something beautiful for our family.

In Which We Talk About Memories...

How do you define a "Force of Nature"?

In climatological terms (yes Blogger it IS a word, I just googled it because you highlighted it red...indicating I made a spelling error), a Force of Nature is likened to a hurricane, tornado, earthquake, or some sort of destructive (or otherwise) force upon the earth. Metaphorically speaking, which is what I'm going for here, quora.com states the following:

"Force of nature is an idiom. To say a person is a force of nature (is one, not has one) means the person is a very strong personality or character -- like a hurricane or a tsunami are also forces of nature -- full of energy, unstoppable, unchallengeable, unforgettable. In short, a person to be reckoned with."

Urban Dictionary takes it a step further, and although I'm not exactly fond of this definition I'll include it for the sake of point-making: "A person or creature possessing unnatural or God-like power." But we all know that Urban Dictionary is basically what you go to when you want to look up what will undoubtedly have an explicit sexual "alternate" definition that will more than likely gross you out - unless, you know, you have a strong stomach for that sort of stuff. 

I am dedicating this blog post to Tom Broderick, my "Shirttail Uncle". In short form, we are related by marriage, by my blood uncle's wife, whose sister is Tom's wife; therefore, my shirttail uncle. Their children are thus my shirttail cousins...I mean, we do share the same uncle after all...so doesn't that almost define the term cousin? But I digress...

Upon expressing my condolences at his passing, his wife said something that has stuck with me ever since. "He was a force of nature." That phrase really struck me, and ever since then I've made it my life's goal to be able to have that same phrase said of me when I dance with Jesus. "He was a force of nature." Well, in my case I'm sure other things will be said like "that guy was weird", and "he tried to get out of a car through a sunroof", and "did you see his last Snapchat picture? That filter though!" Maybe even "He made a mean Jewish Coffee Cake just like his grandma used to make...except for the walnuts." Some of my Lutheran friends will maybe even question the final destination of my eternal soul due to my Catholic tendencies. But at the core of that, doesn't that sort of at least begin to constitute a Force of Nature? 

Back in the Halcyon days* of my early double-digit years, as I was leaving my hometown of West Allis onto the city where I'd spend the better part of my years (and counting), in August of 1995, my Grandpa Bruce passed away after an unbeknownst-to-me battle with cancer of the everything, as in it had metastasized everywhere. That next month, over Labor Day, my uncle had invited me and my two cousins to go up north to Squirrel Lake, a now-defunct and torn down resort about ten miles west of Minocqua. It was then that I really got to know Tom.

Tom taught me how to drive a pontoon boat, how to park it even. There was always some sort of water adventure to be had when Tom was up north, be it in Dave's pontoon boat, a speedboat, fishing, tubing, and jet skiing. One of my very fondest memories is one gloomy Saturday morning when we were all on the pontoon boat, and something happened with the motor, or the waves or something. That part I do not remember but what I do remember was that the bow of the pontoon boat was where myself and my youngest shirttail cousin Beanie (using nicknames to protect identities, of course!) were seated, decked out in life jackets because Safety, duh. So all of a sudden, the bow starts sliding underneath the surface of the lake. Think a less dramatic and minuscule likening to the Tragedy of the Titanic. Only Not so Much...we didn't sink to the bottom of the lake, we could all tread water and/or swim, and we weren't in the middle of shark-infested waters. Just Muskies. Beanie, I'm looking at you. Remember the Muskies? Now at this point, about 4 feet of the bow is underwater, and Tom, being (I'm just gonna say it) an expert in the field of sailing and all things nautical, knew how to keep the boat from going down. He didn't say anything though at this point, and his wife, who stood behind him, hand on his shoulder, just as calm as can be, said in the most gently prodding and matter-of-fact voice, "Tom, the boat's sinking". Now I'm trying to capture the exact tone of her voice here, and this is the best I have. It was as if she was saying, "Tom, dear, I don't mean to alarm you, but it appears as though the boat is sinking." Or, as we say nowadays, "NBD" (No Big Deal). 

Needless to say the boat, as I said, did not go down. Tom knew what to do. If he was frightened or shaken by any of it, he never let on. But something tells me he was just as calm as his wife was. "NBD" :) That will forever be etched in my memory banks as the fondest Up North Memory this side of proposing to my wife on the side of the hill at Deerwood Lodge...definitely ranks up there.
Over Labor Day of 1998, at this point, my grandmother on my mother's side, was staying with us as she had decided to come back to Wisconsin after suddenly moving on a whim to Arizona in 1996 not too long after my Grandpa's death...now that I think about it, knowing what I know now, it was probably due to her lease being up. I'd like to think that part of the reason she came back was my mom was pregnant with my brother at the time, but something tells me that might not have been the case because upon disembarking the plane the first thing she could say to my mother was "Oh my God are you fat!" And basically ate her words, or put her foot in her mouth (so to speak) when my mother informed her that she was, in fact, 6 months pregnant with my brother.

So for 144 days (yes I counted...there's a history there and it's not an entirely pretty one), Grandma (I'll refrain from calling her my personal name for her here) lived with us while she found a place to live up here...as in Wisconsin. Ultimately she settled back in West Allis and now somewhere in southeastern Wisconsin close to the Illinois border, but for that first 144 days, you guessed it she was right across the hall from me in what was to become my brother's bedroom. Needless to say, it was not fun times in our household at that time. I believe the term "walking on eggshells" would be apropos to say here. Grandma tended to be very critical of the way things were done, which doesn't work well for any Aspie brain, realized or unrealized. 

So there we were, sipping our "toddies" that were made for us to warm us up after spending a rainy morning out on the lake. In our defense, it wasn't raining at first, but had done so after we'd ventured out on the water. My memory does not permit me to divulge what the toddies were made of, but suffice it to say they were good and warming. And there I was, discussing (okay, I'll say it, complaining) about my Grandma. Tom of course had the perfect solution - I was to shut her up by just saying to her "G-- Damn Gram!!" I'm sorry to say I never did heed that advice, as I felt that a mouthwash made of green Jafra soap (yeah that was the worst, forget your Ivory Spring, your Irish Spring, even your Zest. This liquid green soap from Jafra was the worst tasting soap ever - but who makes soap with the intention of the user to eat it, right?)

But that was Tom, pure, unadulterated Tom. I understand now what that phrase means, being a force 

of nature. And it's that very definition that drives me to strive for that kind of essence in my life. For Tom, I would use the term greatness, but in my case, I will say essence. It's easier for me to speak highly of other people than of myself. If I were to achieve even a fraction of his type of greatness I would consider it a great success. Those memories and more that are still locked up within the vaults of my memory banks, are the kinds of memories I want to make for my children, and eventually, Grandchildren. I know I'm not the only one with this desire, but I would love to be able to sit down with him for one more cup of coffee, or even another one of his wife's toddies, and just talk about life. Thinking about that a little further, I feel as though instead of coffee or toddies, it would likely be going out on the boat to go fishing. So I will rephrase - I would love to sit down with him on the fishing boat, cane pole in hand, and fish for crappies and talk about life. I wonder how many more times he'd have me say the equivalent of "G-- Damn Gram!!" to other people in my life. I'd love for him to meet my wife and kids, and there again I know I'm not the only one. That phrase comes up from a post I just saw again on Facebook, asking who you'd like to have a cup of coffee with, alive or passed, any individual. 

For that matter, I'd love to go back to Squirrel Lake just one more time, all of us, new family members and all, even though the resort is gone, with not a trace of anything left. The cabins, the piers, Duck Poop Island, Bird Poop Island, the boys from Thornwood Cabin who poked fun of us and tried to fight with us that one year, Lakeview, Shore, Edgewater, Dave's house, the playground, the badminton nets, the new Honeymoon Cabins...they're all gone, but the memories are forever in our minds. Some of them locked up, only to be released by that one trigger, that one thought, when the floodgates open and you're reminded of the good times, the love, the family...the forces of nature in all of us to take what we can of Tom and carry it forward in his stead. That love, that confidence, that love of the water, fishing, his wife's ever-so-perfectly roasted (with the patience of St. Theresa of Avila) marshmallows when Beanie would be the one chucking the marshmallow into the fire and dancing around with the stick in the air with a flame-engulfed marshmallow...a sugary torch of sorts...I think we can, and are, carrying that force of with us in his stead. 

We will all meet again. It's not goodbye forever. More of a see you later. Until then, we pick up our flame-engulfed marshmallows and dance around the campfire in some sort of ritualistic Marshmallow Fire Dance that only we will understand. Just as a small squall of rain in the right conditions of heat and humidity can quickly become a bow echo of thunderstorms capable of producing tornadoes, we will, and are, taking what we can from our experiences and memories, and becoming our own forces of nature, that if fostered with that same drive will become great forces of nature for our own families. 

For the record, if I had to describe myself as a Natural Force of Nature, I'd say I'm a hurricane.

*thank you John Green for saying that phrase and Google for telling me what it meant.

And as the great Archbishop Fulton Sheen (soon to be sainted?) would say at the end of his broadcasts, "Thank you, and God Love You."

Wake Up and Rise Above

Toxicity - Webster defines as "the quality, state, or relative degree of being toxic or poisonous"

Toxic - 1: containing or being poisonous material especially when capable of causing death or serious debilitation, i.e. toxic waste. 2: exhibiting symptoms of infection or toxicosis. 3: extremely harsh, malicious, or harmful. 4: relating to or being an asset that has lost so much value that it cannot be sold on the market.

The weird thing about intoxication is that it can be both good and bad. My coffee this morning is intoxicating (not literally, but a metaphor for being good, duh. I didn't spike it...although...that thought has crossed my mind, I won't lie.) Some degree of intoxication can be good, however most of the time people take it past the point of fun and venture into the drunk category. One reason (of a few actually) that I do not drink to get drunk anymore, is that ever-so-fine line between the two. I think to an extent with some people that must come with age. Speaking from a gonna-be 31 year old's point of view, it might be premature...but as my Facebook "On This Day" just reminded me ever so gently, I did do a brief stint in the drunken days...but I digress.

That's not to say I don't drink at all, just the other night I made the wife and I a strawberry banana smoothie with frozen yogurt and wine. It was delicious. And I do enjoy me an Amaretto and Sour, and a Moscow Mule, and I'm quite fond of IPAs (312 by Goose Island is delicious and yes I know that's not an IPA, that it is a wheat ale, but it's one of my favorite beers), but it's not an everyday thing, nor even an every weekend thing. I have my reasons for having no desire to get blinding drunk anymore, which I don't care to discuss here because I'm still too embarrassed by them and that alone is what fuels my temperance, if you want to call it that. Suffice it to say that if you have to be reminded the next day of things you said (and/or did), and you have absolutely no recollection of having said (or did) anything like that, you've had too much to drink. And to do that every time you go out...yeah that is my reason and that's all I'll say.

I'm not getting up on a soap box either, going all Carrie Nation (she's kinda famous for smashing liquor bottles at a local bar here) and preaching temperance to everyone, I'm actually reminded of a meme post from Catholic Memes with Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI having a rather large beer (think Das Boot) with a reference to a line in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. A quick Google search for said meme turned up fruitless but it doesn't take away from my point of I don't drink much. Which isn't even the point of this blog post anyway but as the subtitle of this blog should say, "But I Digress..."

Update: I found the meme:

And if you're wondering, CCC #2290 states: "The virtue of temperance disposes us to avoid every kind of excess: the abuse of food, alcohol, tobacco, or medicine. Those incur the grave guilt who, by drunkenness or a love of speed, endanger their own and others' safety on the road, at sea, or in the air.

All of that being said...toxicity enters our lives, and sometimes we don't recognize it at first. Sometimes it takes an unobtrusive third party to kind of "bring us to our senses", and to realize that some sort of toxicity has crept its nasty way into our lives. It can be a toxic family member or friend, using guilt or manipulation to persuade you into performing their demands at the risk of your personal satisfaction. Those with Stockholm syndrome will derive some sort of pleasure even while they are doing what they don't want to do, but sooner or later we have to take a moment to take stock of what we do, who we do it for, and why we are doing it. Either something happens that wakes us up to who that person or those people really are, or oftentimes that unobtrusive third party will put their two cents in that will ignite a spark to the aforementioned self-assessment. However, that unobtrusive third party generally can't be truly unobtrusive unless they know the intimate details of both parties, otherwise they are just getting your side of the story, and unless you are being painfully truthful, that story will always be tilted in your favor, even if ever-so-slightly.

That being said, even this tilted point of view that the less-than-unobtrusive (because obtrusive was definitely not the word I was looking for here) third party has, will almost certainly lead to points that you yourself had not given thought to, for one reason or another. They may be incorrectly founded, but at some level they are points worth considering. One being the occasional or sometimes recurring notion that you may not be as important to a particular individual as they are to you. On a more serious tone, there may be indications of actual abuse where you just saw harmless...whatever.

One "problem" (and I use the quotes intentionally) of an Aspie brain is being less able to detect people's true intentions. Simply put - you take them and their words at face value because that is what is logical. This makes guilt and manipulation a more powerful tool to the toxic individual because you're now easier to manipulate. Juxtaposed with guilt trips, you are putty in the toxic individual's hands.

Until you wake up.

In a seemingly unrelated but assuredly related segue, toddlers sometimes make the best therapists. You gently vent your frustration in the form of a singsongy story time voice and boom - save yourself a $200 therapy copay. "So-and-so can't find it in their heart to do such-and-such possibly minuscule-but-turned-mountain of an annoyance or otherwise timely detestable thing, and wouldn't you think after I did some altruistic thing they could do my <insert timely requirement here>?" Toddler's response: a non-sequitur-esque and joyfully emphatic "Yeah!" If that doesn't melt away your frustration then you my friend possess no soul.

And so, Aspie or Neurotypical, when we wake up, when we see for ourselves that toxicity has crept into our lives, we do as Miranda Bailey and Cristina Yang did in Grey's Anatomy when they were forced through obligation to their Hippocratic Oath to treat a Neo-Nazi white supremacist, and we "rise above".

An Aspie brain is a beautiful thing that must never be thought of as a defect or a problem to society. Some of the best things to come into this world do so through the minds of Aspie greats. Don't underestimate us.

Pennies are Useless - Let's Pinch 'em Anyway!!

John Green and Wheezy Waiter, and others I'm sure, have said that pennies are useless, and I would agree. Unless you have a personal vendetta against someone, or are trying to get the ultimate retribution for paying a fine of any kind, pennies are utterly useless. But that's not why I'm writing this blog entry, I could take another post and write my thoughts on the confusingly beloved Lincoln Cent Piece. But I'm using it as a clever segue for this:

I have recently looked at my US Cellular bill for this month, and was sticker shocked to discover what we are really paying. I'm not going to get into how I've had a cell phone with US Cellular for oh say 6 years, and only now am discovering how much it truly costs. Suffice it to say that is one good thing on the side of US Cellular, I would have had no phone quite frequently. Anyhoobastank, so my current cell phone bill cut today. Now I cannot look at the schematics of it yet but I can say we have not gone over on data, so this bill should have been a normal bill. Eyes got wide when I saw $152, let me tell you.

Now I've been mulling over the possibility of switching over to Cricket wireless. I've heard nothing but good things about them, and you can't really argue with the $35/month price tag. No I am not being sponsored to write this, but I'm a research oriented individual, and I've scoured the internet looking for reviews and comparisons between Cricket and US Cellular, and unless I haven't dug deep enough (my Google Search History might beg to differ), I haven't found much, if anything. So that is why I'm writing this. If you have US Cellular, and are thinking about switching...keep watch on this blog. Starting next week, I will be taking my line from US Cellular and switching it to Cricket, and leaving my wife's at US Cellular, as she just got a new phone recently and I cannot afford to buy out the $444 plan (I guess the new way to get you into a contract??)

One thing of experience to share, is I went into the US Cellular store and told them what I was thinking of doing, and trying to get an estimate of how much going down to one line was going to cost. Now the lady was super nice, and she did tell me to contact Customer Service, because they specialize in retention, and might be able to cut me a discount to retain me as a customer. My first thought to that is, if you have to have a department specializing in that...shouldn't you just offer lower prices to begin with? Maybe (okay definitely) I'm naive, but why should one have to threaten to leave a provider just because their bill is too high and they're finally able to see it for what it is, not just pay it and go "It is what it is"...I hate that phrase by the way.

SO, what I'm going to do with this is compare the services, with frequent (or as frequent as I can) updates regarding service and coverage between the two providers, because for the time being that's what I'm going to have to do. But I'll say this also: Two lines on a shared plan, with 6 GB of data, and insurance on one phone, runs you about $150-160 at US Cellular. Dropping down to one individual line, at 3 GB of data, it was estimated that my bill will only drop to about $88 (whether that's before or after taxes I don't know). Meanwhile, a similar plan from Cricket will run me just $35. Well, $40 but I will be using the auto-pay option to get a discounted rate. Still...combined with the US Cellular bill of (estimated) $88, that brings me to $123. I'm told that Cricket's taxes and what not are already built into the price of the plan so it's basically a flat $35 ($40). I'll update that as well.

On paper, it would seem that I'll be the one with the better coverage, as Cricket uses AT&T's network. US Cellular's network is primarily in the Midwest. The true test will be when the family and I venture to Alabama later this summer, and also when we go up north over 4th of July. But to have that side by side comparison...relieves some of the natural anxiety I'm feeling that "What if I make the wrong choice? Which do I choose?" But to save at first, about $30/month? Why not? And then after that to basically cut my cell bill in half...I mean it's a no-brainer. That's a box of Pull Ups for my 2 year old. It's a night out at a restaurant, or a pizza delivery, or $30 per month going into savings for upcoming trips.

I'm not saying I hate US Cellular, don't get me wrong. They've been really good to me over the last 6 years, and maybe that's where my hesitation, or at least part of it, comes in. But this way, if they suck...I can always come back because it's a no-contract kind of deal. Win-Win? We shall see....stay tuned.

In other penny-pinching news, so I have returned the antenna that I had purchased in the last entry. Sad to see it go, but happy to get my $50 back instead of have a stylishly-curvy paperweight sitting right next to my TV or up on a bookshelf or in a window. I have taken the first step of cable freedom and signed up for Netflix. For my family, it seems like a logical choice, as we are not major TV watchers. My oldest already knows how to do Netflix so if I'm too old to figure it out, he can show me I'm sure. I'm debating now between Hulu Plus and Amazon Prime. I do like the Amazon Prime option (also not a sponsor, and neither is Netflix or anything else I mention in this blog...if I was being sponsored, I wouldn't have to write a blog about penny pinching now would I?) because for $8,25/month, I can get the video option plus the free 2 day shipping on orders...which interests me, because in the last month I've probably spend $30 in shipping costs alone. But in return I've gotten a manual coffee grinder, a Wisconsin State Flag, and 3 books. So yeah I'd probably make use of free shipping...further research is required but all of that, since it's involving Penny Pinching...will be discussed here.

Comments and suggestions are always welcome. Stay tuned for further updates!

Little Townhouse on the Prairie Part 3 - Photographical Update

My Garden, Sunday, May 29, 2016 thru Friday, June 10, 2016

Friday, June 3, 2016

Pea Sprouts. Little mini pea sprouts

Half of the Garden

Sunday, June 5, 2016

Pea sprouts trying to inch their way out

Monday, June 6, 2016

Yes I am focusing on the sugar snap peas...

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Bean Sprouts! What?? How'd that happen?

Tomato plant wants some attention...

Little Townhouse on the Prairie Part 2 - Sprouts and Signals, Ahoy Ahoy

In which we awake to discover sprouts!!! At the time of this writing 10 days have passed since I planted my seeds in the hopes of starting an urban farming adventure. I now have little sprouts of everything. Inch high sunflowers complete with two leaves, two inch high pea sprouts all in a haphazard row, and 3 inch high bean sprouts that seemed to just pop up overnight. I'm told by a very knowledgeable source that peas like the cooler weather which we have had lately, and abundant rain the last week to foster the growth.

How much rain you might ask? Well the truth is I don't know, because I don't have a rain gauge. Something Aaron says is important to have for a garden to know how much rain your crops are getting. Avoid over or under watering and all that. It's on my list along with shepherd's hooks to hang garden goodies on. 

In other news, we are doing the adult thing and sending out change of address cards, complete with our new phone number. Our home phone number. That's right we have opted to get a home phone line through Basic Talk, a Walmart-esque offering of Vonage. So if the power goes out I'm still screwed. But you can't argue with $10 a month. Not to mention I was afforded a numberphile's dream of basically picking my phone number out of all the possible area codes (except of course for new ones including but not limited to Wisconsin's new 534 area code). So I dated to be different and I have a 262 area code. And the best part - the exchange adds up to 15, and the last 4 also add up to 15. It's a cribbage playing numberphile's dream! You can laugh now.

In other other news, yesterday I bought an indoor HD antenna in an effort to keep from having to worship the copper wire cable gods by offering them the oh so low free will gift of $1500 a year. Excitedly I hooked it up to my TV, which first disappointed me by the remote not working and yes. Yes I did put fresh batteries in. Anyhoobastank, so I hooked up the antenna and did a search for channels. Three times. And each of those times got nothing. Irritated, I moved the position of the antenna to a high point in the room between two windows. Did several channel scans and received now anywhere from 1 to a dozen channels. So okay, I thought. Better than nothing. I look to see what channels are afforded me. The result was a frozen WFRV CBS 5 out of Green Bay. A pixelated WBAY TV2 ABC out of Green Bay. Followed by three different PBS's from Green Bay, and a handful of Spanish speaking channels. Now I'm no Donald Trump supporter here with a vendetta against my Hispanic friends, and I can speak Spanish mind you, but not that fast. And I certainly can't comprehend what is being said with as fast as fluent speakers speak it. The last time I watched Spanish TV was in 2004 when I watched Telemundo's telenovela "Gitanas" (who if translates to Gypsies) I will admit that I did enjoy the theatrics of the show but 12 years of being removed from that one time viewing, I mean whatever happened to the characters? So now, it's going to be a combination of Netflix and Hulu plus or Amazon Prime for this household. I don't need super premium yum yum TV from cable with 900 channels of I will never watch this. It's like putting me in front of a football field size dessert table. I'll never eat it all even though there's a bunch of fun things to eat. And I definitely don't want to pay upwards of $150 a month to be afforded access to said desserts. It's just too much on all accounts. Plus I have a Roku box which gives me access to among other things, Netflix. Yes I'll take the card table sized dessert table access for $25 a month. Considering I already have the hardware, why not? Alas, it's back to Target to return the antenna. Thank God for the 29 day return policy. Why 29 days though? What kind of arbitrary number is that? Overthinking is one of my strong suits.

So I was going to include pictures in this entry but I think what I will do is make a separate entry just for them. That way I can publish this now, and let you all read it.

Little Townhouse on the Prairie Part 1 - Urban Farming

So this past Sunday I put seeds into the ground in my first attempt at what my very dear Christian brother calls "Urban Farming". He himself owns and operates a farm an hour away from here and is currently in the process of becoming an organic farm.

Now the back story. When I lived at home, my parents had a garden. I found it enjoyable. But then I moved out and of all the six places I've lived since then, only two have been in locations suitable for gardening, unless I wanted to take the risk of an apartment deck style garden. Money played a huge factor in that not happening. So now here I am, I have a townhouse that I'm renting, where the only real full sun spot is alongside the house. But this is where theatric is happening. Well, provided Francis and Philip don't eat my crops or they fail...bit more on that later.

Anyhoobastank, so I invested in a handheld tiller, a few bags of miracle grow soil and some seeds. This year I got a metric buttload of sugar snap peas (my favorite) bush beans (a close 2nd), squash, tomatoes, blackberries and strawberries. The first three of which are in the ground and at the mercy of Philip.

I should probably take a moment to tell you about Philip. Philip is a bunny, a rather ballsy bunny if you ask me. He will let you get within three feet of him before he hops away. Francis is the mouse who loves under my back stoop. He's not any harm yet so I don't see a reason to murder him. A little chicken wire fence around my side garden should curb Philip's temptation...and as far as Francis goes, well, he better just stay the hell away from inside my house. The back stoop is close enough. Even then though, I'll look for a humane way of taking care of him, as his namesake saint would have me do.

Admittedly, I have named my animal neighbors after St. Francis of Assisi, who as you know had a thing for animals. And Philip, after my patron saint, St. Philip Neri. The next animal friend I encounter will more than likely be named Pio, or something related to Padre Pio, as I've taken a recent liking to Padre Pio. I have a system. Get over it. :P

So, here I go, waiting for my seeds to sprout. In the back of the side plot, abutting the house, I planted individual "hills" of beans. So basically I dug a small hole, put 3-5 bean seeds in, and covered it up. Then, in front of it (there's about a foot space in between), I carved a row out, sprinkled my pea seeds (which to me look like just dried up peas, and the beans looked like un-gravy-ized baked beans), and folded the dirt over my row. In the corner towards the back I put my lone tomato plant, which at time of planting already had 2 tomatoes growing out of it. I have one more miniature plant I'll put next to it. And the squash? I'm not entirely sure where I'll put it yet, but I have to get it in quick! Same with the Blackberry Bush and the Strawberries. I am told that berries love acidic soil, and I've been working my coffee grounds into the garden. Planting near a pine tree will also do the job. Updates to come, obviously. I can't keep you in suspense waiting.

In other news, I've recently been reading the blogs of some pretty good theologians, one being Dr. Taylor Marshall. He suggests reading a chapter of Proverbs a day for a month, which works out because there's 31 chapters of Proverbs. And reading a Psalm a day and writing down one word that sticks out at you. I'm in process of that one, and will probably start the Proverbs challenge July 1 (June only has 30 days and I'm anal-retentive like that). I've also been checking out the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Ireneus, St. Augustine...all in an attempt to "be a Berean" and figure out for myself just where my growing attraction to the Catholic Church is coming from, above or below. My instinct (albeit untrustworthy) is telling me (and has told me for some time now), that it is above. "The truth is like a lion. You don't have to defend it. Let it loose. It will defend itself." - St. Augustine. And I can't help but think that God would not be having me keep coming back to something that was detrimental to my faith and salvation. To put it in secular terms, I find for myself that I much more prefer the "Full Flavor" of the Catholic Church than the "Lights" of the Lutheran Church. Don't tell anybody I said that. (see it's funny, because if I truly meant that I wouldn't have posted it on a blog.) "We are the Easter People, and Alleluia is our song!" (Pope St. John Paul II)...and another favorite I've recently discovered, "I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." (St. Teresa of Calcutta, better known as Blessed Mother Teresa)

As of tomorrow I will be working from home. I've already taken the liberty of ordering myself a manual ceramic burr coffee grinder, to prepare myself for countless French Presses to come. There is something satisfying about the idea of Self-Sustainability, planting seeds in the ground (get your mind out of the gutter), and waiting for nourishment to sprout. Making your own homemade crackers from scratch. Making your own baby food from fresh produce. Brewing your own beer...and soon, perhaps, roasting your own coffee?

Hoping not to "jinx myself with Bad Juju", I think it's safe to say I am greeting a new morning from the dark night of depression. I love being "busy", so to speak, and seeing things come to fruition, and things starting to fall into place. Just as I'm sure God intended it, and thanks be to Him who makes this all possible. I've been experiencing a Renaissance of creativity, figuratively speaking, in that I've been doing some DIY projects involving my son's old dresser I turned into a coffee bar for the kitchen (see a theme here...?), a bookshelf I turned into what is ending up as a display case...a refurbished writing desk, and a handful of canvases. It's amazing what the prospect of moving and having a new place instills in one for a sense of creativity. Juxtaposed with the ideas of self sustainability, it has the makings of a pretty wonderful summer ahead.

Oh, and the title of this entry? Thought of it whilst walking at noon. I have yet to cut the grass at the new place, and so with the grass as long as it is, and growing (due to rain which is also a hindrance to lawn mowing I might add), leads me to the christening of the place as the "Little Townhouse on the Prairie"...ha.

I'll continue to update. Also in said updates I will tie in some other blog posts about Urban Farming and Urban Agriculture. It's a thing! Stay tuned.

Dawn

"I am making everything new!"

Admittedly that is in regards to something completely different...I am not talking about the New Heaven and New Earth in Revelation. But I thought that verse was pertinent, especially now. God is making everything new. Recently He has finally blessed us with a place to call our own, even if it is rented. As He always does, He has made everything perfect and is working things out for the good of those who love Him. I feel on fire, in more ways than one, and I haven't felt this way in a long time. Don't get me wrong, my life is still far from perfect, and even now our new house looks like a war zone. It will all fall into place.

In regards to my Journey of Faith, well, as they say in the scientific world, "further research is necessary." Suffice it to say that there's just so much I don't know and haven't learned that I cannot just jump ship.

The volatility of life has not changed either, but my perspective on it is evolving. I feel like I'm beginning to awaken from the sleep of depression, however at this point I'm still groggy and only on my first cup of coffee. I do not function until I've had at least one and a half cups of coffee. Well okay, I function, but barely...