Thought I'd catch you up on a couple of my silly milestones. Last week I hit the 100-day mark in the no-coffee crusade. I had told myself I could go back to it, but that I had to last one hundred days. I've stopped counting the days, but I have no plans of falling off the wagon--though who plans to fall off the wagon? Makes me sound weak, but I am strong. To prove it I did today's insane Crossfit workout: 50 pull-ups/10 burpees/40 pull-ups/20 burpees/30 pull-ups/30 burpees/20 pull-ups/40 burpees/10 pull-ups/50 burpees. That's 150 of each, which means I've passed the 3,000 mark in my quest to do 5,000 burpees in 100 days. Actually I'm a good bit ahead of schedule, but I doubt I'll slow down, because I just want to get it over with and get on with my life!
P.S. I keep forgetting to respond to Camille, who, as always, is so kind. As far as the core strength question goes, pretty much every full-body exercise is good for your core. But what could be better than the Burpee Challenge. Go for it, Camille! Remember, it's 1 burpee on day 1, 2 on day 2, and just keep going like that until you hit 100.

Bee-a-utiful! And nice enough not to sting me when I got up in his face. The bees were working hard; we worked pretty hard today, too. Finally the sun was working full blast, gave us a sense of urgency. Mow the lawn, plant the seeds, carry the wood. But then, ended the day with a pleasure cruise on the bike down by the river. Now just savoring the final moments of the weekend. Though my faith was near broken, I do believe there will be summer.

Today, as I hauled wood in my pack-basket, I saw these two little flowers growing wild in the woods. Immediately I thought: hey, look, it's like Mike and Cara, side-by-side, till death do us part. I almost missed out on this moment of the spirit, finding it hard to motivate myself to go outside because of the endless fog. Once again it shows how we have to make the most of each day, regardless of what Mother Nature throws our way. And truly, once you're in the thick of it, out in the woods, fog is beautiful.
Had a nice visit today with Matt M. He has this idea of sort of living off the land and trading commodities on his i-phone. It's such an interesting idea (an actual living dichotomy if I remember my philosophy correctly) that I think he should do it for a year and write a book. He's already commenced to building a cabin in the woods, and he's been trading all along, so all that's left is the commitment. Just picture it, he'd be in the middle of nowhere, no electricity, no running water, yet wheeling and dealing via the internet.
New flash: I just got a text from Jake (he's in Portland, OR) and he did a muscle-up at the local playground. I'm proud... and jealous! I always suspected he'd do one before I would, but maybe not so soon. It's funny because I was just telling Jake how I had a dream the other night that we were at a playground and I was doing multiple muscle-ups and saying to him, "they're not even that hard." Supposedly in dreams roles are often reversed; in this case it's true.

What's a blog without prom pictures? I mean, who wants to read meaningless poems and look at boring pictures of trees? Who wants to hear about the exertions of a middle-aged duffer? Or get lectured about the virtues of eating leaves and twigs? But look closely, notice anything that reminds you of the great outdoors? Is that a camo tux? Indeed it is. And the proud father in his stylish but stained brown t-shirt, does he not look like a bona fide plant-eater? Richard and Debbie, of course, are proud and dignified. And Evie: you are beautiful.

American Tao -- no. 25

Mechanical
failure
awaits
impatience.

Fossil fuels
give way
to the immediate
bounty of the sun.

But what will
stop the blight
of gazing balls
and lawn ornaments?

A hummingbird
yesterday paused
inches from my nose.

A jolt of joy
froze me to the spot.
My wife,
hearing me yelp,
came running.

But the hummingbird,
like time itself,
waits for no one.

American Tao -- no. 23

The mountaintop
beckons
for your word.

Wind carries your
infinitude
to the great beyond.

There is no
judgment day;
yet you are judged
in every living
moment.

God is Nature.

American Tao -- no. 24

Clock-watchers
take note
time is measured
in death as much
as in life.

Now I understand
why my mother-in-law
considers the compost pile
a sacred icon.

Is it not
life itself,
this edible
crumbling?

Feed the hungry;
walk your path.

American Tao -- no. 22

Straight-edge--
the lifestyle
of boxers
and saints
and janitors
into the Zen
of the mop.

The resolution
is to have the goal
of no goals.
Ambition shrivels,
it dies,
but nobody knows
that it is gone.

Yet the man
with the mop
admires the shine
where he stands.

Here I am, racking the recesses, seeking something interesting to say. It's of little consolation to my conversation partners, perhaps, but at least I don't want to talk about the stock market anymore. I can't fathom why I found it so fascinating, other than the unfortunate character flaw of wanting something for nothing. But hey, that's the Wall Street way, so why should I be ashamed? Because it's not me, I guess; not to mention that you could also lose money you actually earned. And we all know the whole purpose of earning money is for tangible items, like used pickup trucks.

Living the dream. Today I got home from work and the Sweet was back from college. She came out to do the Crossfit WOD with me and Jake. Since it was doable with dumbbells, we set the timer and did the workout simultaneously. Nothing like huffing and puffing with your dearest. After Jessie did a few flips on the rings (to show the lunks what you're supposed to do), we went for a walk to catch our breath and catch up with each other.

Family fun at the manure pile. Today was supposed to be our "rest day" from the killer Crossfit workouts, but lugging those buckets of black gold through the muck and the mire was a real burner. By the way, it occurs to me now that this blog actually serves a purpose. My mother is famous for NOT making phone calls, but you can bet our phone rang this morning, nervous as she was that we'd go to the Whitneyville book sale without her--as if ever! We picked up nine great books for the grand total of $3. My mother also got an armload of books, which I'm sure will look stunning on the shelves of her new summer place (see previous post).

We have big plans this weekend, such as picking up some free cow manure and going to the used book sale in Whitneyville. Oh, the fun! Hope your weekend is similarly merry.

Thought I'd do another like father/like son montage. We are into a new thing where we do the WOD (workout of the day) that's posted on Crossfit.com each day. We also do specific training in order to do muscle-ups (which we're not even attempting until we're further into our training regimen), the burpee challenge, and nature walks, bike rides, etc. All in all, a pretty complete program.
I just read somewhere that the only thing more boring than listening to somebody's workout program is.... well, actually, the workout talk might top the list. So you see: I AM A BORE. Why am I so proud?
Pop, the answers to your questions re: the summer chalet are as follows: no, no, no, no, no and no. But it is only steps away from the camp's restroom, which does have running water, flush toilets and a washer and dryer on the porch. Obviously you're trying to steal the place from my mother, but here at Birch Wisdom we believe in truth in advertising.

Has this woman found her dream home? Can you picture that dog snoozing on the porch on a hot summer day? This fine example of mini-gothic Americana is for sale for the grand price of $1700. That means you can get it for what, a couple bits? It's located at the Jacksonville Camp, just steps from Gardner Lake, so those of you partial to blackflies, barbeques and swimming, it's time to whip out your checkbook.
Oh, one more thing: bring your carpenter.

Happy Mother's Day!!!

Lord I miss you...

I climbed the 15 foot rope in the woodshed a few times as part of my workout this afternoon. It's not easy and it made me realize that these actors who hang off cliffs by their fingertips: in real life they'd all be dead. I was trying to picture myself in my 70's still climbing the rope. Hey, you never know. Funny that I'd think that after my first effort, but I've always been interested in life-long activities. I even thought in high school about how I'd run my whole life. Now, due to the pounding the joints take, I run infrequently. Yesterday Jake and I went for a 4 mile jaunt. We started off together, then he was a few feet ahead of me, then he was a dot in the distance, then I was all alone and he was waiting at the car. But I don't care about how slow I go--so long as I go.

Speaking of fitness, word is that my beloved father-in-law is the new new Jack Lalanne and my best-bud brother Max has commenced the Burpee Challenge. Tell us how it's going, fellas, the Birch Wisdomites need to know.

Sorry I've been away--not away away, but gone in my mind. Hiding out in the woods is what my soul desires, yet I still must arise, don my uniform of khaki pants and button-down shirt and pretend to be a professional. Of course, none of the kids I work with would fall for that, unless there's such a thing as a professional goofball. Lately I'm consumed with this idea of mental health through nutrition. Eat your greens and you're eating sunshine; how can that not make you happy? So you see, I get closer and closer to the lunatic fringe. Even though, the reality is, the more you go against the grain, the closer you are to being right as rain.

We walked our favorite dirt road as we capped off a beautiful day outside. Little of this, little of that and then the weekend winds down. Tonight we'll have our Sunday beans, then cuddle up to watch Glee, which we've finally become fans of several years after the fact. Early adopters we are not.