I’ve got three brother-in-laws. BIL #1 is like me. First-time father. Two weeks further along. BIL #2 just bought a euro van. Adventure-mobile, my sister said. Load it up. Bike, mattress, running shoes, paragliding equipment. Go big, then sleep. And repeat. No need for hotel. BL #3 bought an old school bus. Him and his girlfriend. In Montana. They’re going to make it livable. Tiny home on wheels. Renovating, retrofitting, the whole nine yards.

Starving for adventure. For purpose. I want to learn how to ride a unicycle, walk the slack line backwards, play jazz, swim the icy Irish Sea, raise chickens in Minnesota, farm.

I tell Mouse this last part about the farming and she looks at me. You know how wives look at husbands. Fools. I don't like dirt or sweat. Very much enjoy A/C. Don’t know agriculture or horticulture or construction. I like to write, to sit and type.

Mouse says this akimbo, then looks at me. Akimbo means hands on hips. I know that because I read it somewhere. And looked it up. Which sort of proves the point about my sedentary time. Nonetheless I want to farm.

We’ll need fencing. So the cows don’t go on the highway. And we’ll make a chicken coop out of found materials. And hopefully Minnesota has a young farmers grant program. And hopefully that program gifts young farmers a free greenhouse.

I’ve heard you don’t need power. You can build a huge in-ground compost. Coil piping, lots of piping in the compost. Then run water through the pipes. Voila. Hot water. Can you do that Minnesota? Sub-zero weather?

I don't have all the answers. But adventure is the antivenom. And slimy status-quo is the snake. I don’t know how to homestead in Minnesota. But I do know I don’t want to be running back and forth to US bank and Cub Foods and Target and Sam’s Club and Walmart. Buying plastic bags full of plastic. I don’t want to be on hold with the city because my water bill is too high. I don’t want to curse because we're at the special gas station with the special card because we got seven cents off but I forgot the special card at home. These evils are inevitable, you say?

Society, man. This afternoon, I set up the slackline in the front yard. It’s the only activity where repetitive falling is addicting. A sliver of rope between two trees. I brought the baby out. And the dog. For the first time, the baby giggled. The dog pawed leaves and dirt on her head. I got most of it on film. Society, man.