CARPENTER. FARMER. RENASSAINCE MAN.

Three months ago, Katherine and I picked up our suburban life and moved our family of 7 + one ex-husband to a hippy farming island full of magic.

Yeah!I know what you’re thinking. Super cool! Living off the land, become more self sufficient, learning where our food comes from, how the earth needs nurturing. All cool and let’s face it timely stuff, you know with the dumpster fire of 2020. Until I realized I don’t know how to do any of this traditionally masculine stuff.

I missed out on growing up with the rites of passage, and typical trainings boys typically receive. I was forced to grow up in the wrong gender and no one taught me. However I did learn to sew all my stuffies overalls, and how to apply nail polish... whole other angry feminist post there.

So here I am with a falling down house and a serious chicken hoarding problem and a realization that I am not actually handy. 

The first 2 weeks I spent mostly crying, then I rage built shit, while pretending I was super chill anytime Handsome Matt came over to help. I’m not saying it was graceful because lord it was/is not. Actually it was mostly flailing wildly, but all of a sudden this weekend while building this cute lil Quail Run out of fallen branches and hardware cloth I realized HOLY CUSS! I am a mother cussing builder person now! 

This quail run can be easily removed, AND opens on one end for easy mucking and compost delivery! 

Did you know quail are excellent composters! And that they are super quiet, don’t like to free range because they are always terrified and they lay an egg most days?!? 

Carpenter. Farmer. Renaissance Man! What can’t I do? 

Ha ha ha. Jk. The list is so long:

Cold weather

Attention to detail

Conflict 

The moonwalk 

Play the piano 

Etc. etc. etc.

For once I think I’ll focus on the things I can do instead of the ones I can’t!