Spring has sprung

Oh yay! Spring has come to Michigan! There are crocuses and little cute dwarf irises in the yard, the ivy has been mostly cleared out of the beds, and I'm ready to embark on an almost-first... growing food! I've tried a couple times... like in Arcata. But that was lifetimes ago, and it kinda was an epic fail, so I don't really count that. This... This will be different. This is going to have some actual, idunno, THOUGHT put into it? And I'm really really really hoping that Connor will eat something of a vegetable nature if he has a hand in growing it. He wants to plant beans. He wants, specifically, a bean stalk. So, a bean stalk he shall have!

Of course, the universe being fond of me as it is, on Thursday, when I was just about ready to leave the house for a seed-purchasing mission, foiled my plans. Seriously? Give a girl a break!! There I was, putting up the crock pot after the week's round of bean preparation, and I was then planning to rid the counter of lunch crumbs, and we were off! Stroller out of the garage, off to the the lovely neighborhood market with the lovely produce and what appear to be lovely seeds. Don't really know, but they look lovely. BUT... as I stepped off of my kitchen stool there was a crazy-ominous POP, what felt like (and proved to be) a tear in my calf muscle, and POOF! Just like that... all my lovely plans scrapped. Thankfully, I managed to get to all the various and sundry folk that needed to inspect said calf muscle yesterday, established that it is the muscle separating from the tendon (ooooooo! sounds soooo fun! I know you're jealous!) and not the achilles tendon (YAY! No surgery!), and got my fashionable walking boot to complement my ensembles for the next 6 weeks. Upside: I'll be fully mobile pre-beach season. Downside: dancing on my birthday next Saturday looks unlikely.

*sigh*

Just noticed that the grandboy is outside without pants on again. Good thing his shirt is really really long.  Not that we care... but our neighbors might be offended. Don't know. But this is Grand Rapids. Land of the helicopter parents and super churchy folk that view nudity as next to depravity. Never mind that he's 3. His penis is flappin' around as he leaps from the deck. Ack! Evil! I expect the stake-burning is imminent.

Meanwhile, I've been daydreaming and researching and planning how to manage a relocation to Missoula, MT. Fell in love last summer, totally surprising myself. Montana?! Are you freaking kidding me? But no. No kidding. Love that town! Has everything I want in life and then some. And we are tired beyond measure of living by anyone's terms but our own. Soul-crushing. Screw that. We're both at the age where we're needing to take the leap, or cash it in for this life. Forty was kinda pushing it when we tried this 9 years ago, but now Jim is pushing 50! November! I want to take the leap. I've never lost the desire to sell everything, and move to a place I can live in relative peace, more in tune and in touch with the earth. So, dammit, I'm gonna! Only, a little more responsibly this round I think. Like, ummm, plan? Go there a few more times? Make some friends there maybe even? Oh. And save some money for the transitional period. But it's much closer to family, most especially Cassady. She and Connor are just too far apart.

Anyhooo.....

Somewhere along the way of my research I found the most inspiring blog. Dig this chick. What a great site! Gives me the actual idea that I can in fact find a way to do the things I've longed to do for what? Decades? Yes. Decades. Jezuhs. Two year plan probably.  Yeah. Sounds good. Or maybe 15 month plan. Yeah. Sounds even better!

So, I'm going to hopefully keep this blog updated and current, and use it to think about this whole Missoula thing, to document my process, to share my muddling through this parenting a grandkid thing, and to hopefully get some stuff out of my head so my brain can work a smidge more efficiently. I ain't expectin' nothin' big, but maybe it'll give me something of mine mine mine all mine.

Oh! And to journal all my gardening and preserving foibles and failu... I mean, epic successes and magnificent pickles. Yup. That's what I mean.

Peace, Old friends and New.