Upgrading To Wendighaus, Version 2.0

In a very small way, I’m maudlin about leaving. It’s our first home — or, rather, our first excursion into the American Dream of home ownership, which is probably a myth or at least a nightmare as much as it is a dream. Lots of good memories, here. And we’ve customized it to the nines…

Tonight, These Three Things Happened

We went to Indian food.

Then we went to get Rita’s Water Ice.

This is when the eventful portion of the night began.

(Part One, Part Two, and Part Three await.)

The Cannibal Albinos Of Ghost Mountain

So, I have to ask: what are your local legends? C’mon. Cough ‘em up. I know you have some. I wasn’t going to ask this now, as it seems like such a classic Halloween topic, but you know what? Summer is when we kids did all our scary exploring. No school, warm nights, easy to go out and summon ghosts with magical words. Summer is the perfect time to talk about this.

A Septic Inspector Shares His Theories On Government Regulation

Yesterday, I had to take an hour out of my morning (read: writing time) to talk about poop. For me, this would normally be a win, but this was altogether more academic. Since our new home is not privy to township sewer and water, we have our own septic system (big ol’ grass-covered sand mound). Thus, prior to moving in, it was important to procure the eagle eyes of a vigilant septic inspector.

Day of the Dads

What I’m saying is, Happy Father’s Day. My own father, well, he’s off tracking game and taking down the Celestial Elk in his own Happy Hunting Ground, but as usual on this day — and on many days — I am reminded of him, reminded of stories that live on despite him, reminded of legacy and family and love and loss and all that crazy stuff.