of cut grass, concrete, and chickens

So I am fortunate enough to tout today as my 28th birthday.[insert pat on back here]

The past few weeks have been physical and emotional roller coasters. Demands for my time, energy and acute decision making have increased threefold and thus the poetic daily diatribe download [growahouse] that I have become accustom to has suffered.

suffer no more.

My father tracked down a local entrepreneur to cut my grass yesterday. So no longer am I the overgrown scourge of the streetscape with my dandelion forest. It was a pleasant experience to come home to an even plain of grass... a clean slate of green.

On Sunday I emerged from a 24 hour jaunt to Pittsburgh for a wedding just in time to organize a massive assembly of friends to help move the concrete countertop into place.

What countertop?

The unfortunate downside of a life transcript such as this is that when you don't have the time to write about something, you are forced to ask yourself if it really happened. In fact I feel that the concrete story deserves its own saga styled moment by moment chronological epic epistolary. So watch out for that in the immediate future.

and then there are the chickens...

I was given a birthday gift of a flock of chickens donated in my name through heifer international.

a gift as divinely inspiring as the gift giver herself.