Time for a continuation on the home front. Stories of the Goose et. al. and their adventures. From heavy shocks in heavy boots to hammering nails with axe blades to the springing of leaks in the pool of death and many more these are a few of the stories of how a house is built. Jurek (man of large moustache fame) has been the brunt of a number of life altering possibilities. He is quite often covered from head to toe with sawdust, each grain having attempted the destruction of the fellow's eyeballs. I remember once offering the fellow googles as he stood behind the table saw with squinted eyes and barbarically sharp pieces of tree heading his way only to have him report "No thanks" and continue on. Courageous stuff my dear friends. The most memorable of his near deaths was that of the heavy shock. In the final stage of the building of the foundation we found ourselves in the early morning with a non working cement mixer. A village chap was summoned to assist who was no electrician but wore a white vest and shorts and therefore assumedly looked the part. He quickly set to work fiddling with knobs and colorful wires as we all looked on astounded and eventually surmised the source of our troubles. When he got to the last checks down at the machine and found no troubles he fired up the beast. Jurek in little boots was the first to discover (in the rain mind you) that the entire mixer was charged. He touched one corner of the beast and jumped from the shock. Our pseudo-electrician touched in his huge rubber boots and felt nothing probably then assuming that Jurek had a few screws loose. Jurek, in a moment of brilliance, touched the charged machine and grabbed pseudo-electricians hand and the big fellow in big rubber boots jumped and let out a yelp. This was all the convincing our man need to set to work again trying to repair the thing and eventually doing so.

Another of these glorious days me and the lads headed pool side (pool of death that is) and discovered a rapid loss of our precious flora and fauna killing acids. The pool has become something of a landmark in that its depths are the most popular wetting spot for frogs and mice and bugs of all type. Not a day passes without further floaters emerging. Well when the leak was realized we set to work with a rapidity not seen before or since. Buckets were pulled from all nooks and crannies and quickly filled with the precious juices in an attempt to save what was left of it. Then the mice and frogs who had made this spot their grave were removed and placed on the road as an obstacle course for willing motorists (sadly this part was not accomplished but makes for quite an idea). The hole of the pool was then widened and this action has resulted in new opportunities for all chaps involved to lose their manhood when lowering beams requires standing on both sides of the pool simultaneously. With black tape then the holes were patched first with Wiesiek's haphazard attempts and then with the eyes of the hawk gaze of yours truly. When patched the tarps were again laid inside our pool and the poisons were returned forthwith.

Each day now my time is limited and my energy also so posts may be of the shorter variety. I shall attempt to present more in future of our tiresome yet experience filled adventures.

Ode to the back breaking work and the scarcely clad chaps who join me on this current venture. In these last weeks I have developed muscle on top of muscle (considering my initial state of being scrawny sue it can be difficult to note the change from a distance of more than a metre though I assure all 'tis there and 'tis menacing), a Carribean tan that any berry plucking islander would blush at, a repetative and exceedingly brutal number of hand injuries (the latest while cutting bread with blunt knife and nearly hacking off my left index finger and previous beauty sustained by snapping a hand saw and having the blade glide elegantly under one of my finger nails), and according to Floyd in Arizona my natural sweater continues to bloom on chest and midsection (when the back begins to sprout I will have to consider extreme action). Hopefully you faithful few have taken a look at the new pictures and seen the incredible (what a crock) progression that we sorry sods have made. My and other's expectation of a few weeks minimal labor followed by stiff round of drinks in celebration of standing wood has been replaced with notions of continued hard labor come winter with children dancing merrily about snowman while we sooth frostbitten lips and bolloxes.

One seeing the pictures should be aware of all of the punters involved. Myself (hopefully), Wiesiek, and Jonathon should be recognizable (in my new state perhaps I not) but then there are the now infamous others. The young chap taking part in the digging of a large hole (which contrary to what my genius youngest sister suggested is not the foundation for the house but a sheep-dip/acidic pool of danger and death to kill bugs in the wood) early on in the pictures is a lad from the nearby village who was summoned to lend a forearm. The chap pictured later on with exceedingly large moustache that woodland creatures could nest in and leathery tan from years of sun use and abuse is Wiesek's older brother. Even nearer the end fellow without facial hair and wearing blue cover-alls is our replacement carpenter while "el jefe" is away. Chap pictured in the head gear of a Nepalese goat herder is Marcin, a friend of the fam who was staying here for the last week with his wife Ania. He didn't help much with the home itself but lended his wood carving talent to the construction of two marvelous plaques to adorn the main house and previous guest apartment and he also butchered all plant life within a half mile radius with Wiesiek's weed-wacker. Last but most certainly not least is "el jefe" himself, the man with the plan, Pan Gonska our carpenter extraordinaire. He is pictured with glasses and blue/grey shirt in many of the intimate shots. Please enjoy this picture: http://www.lovablequirks.org/photos/photo.pl/Moe's%20Builders%20Inc/img_6024.jpg as a symbol of our taskmaster's fervor. His name written above translated to English is Mister Little Goose. He has taken part in the building of all Stebnicki (Wiesiek's family name) structures and no less in this case. He raised us each and all from the ashes of not knowing what the hell to do and spending our days constructing sheep dip and pulling large nails from planks of wood while grunting to now becoming a lean mean carpentarial machine and I myself learning an extensive Polish carpenter's vocabulary. From nailing and grunting to now the construction of walls and the creation of finely cut and chisseled wood, our goose is at the helm. I of course have never made a joke of his name, would never even consider such a barbaric action. Codswallop, I have come to refer to him always as goose; spoke openly in English of course so few understand of our goose being cooked, plucked, whatever else; and gotten everyone, in Polish or English, refering to the slim wood pieces used to connect the larger beams as our Goose-feathers as their name in Polish is feather. So there is the run down of our fantastic crew of wood specialists and those others who are a long way from knowing the first thing about it.

That's enough for today. The work beckons and the summer is running out of steam so all energy is necessary toward rapid progression.

I have wanted for days to spill the proverbial beans, to wax eloquently about day to day life here in the land of the suspicious kielbasa. Eight weeks of full time work however have scattered my brains and exhausted me as only a legless gobshite climbing Kilmanjaro could relate to. As soon as energy returns at least at the level of my being able to write the ridiculous verbiage of which I am accustomed I shall post once again. Hold on to your necessary unmentionables until that time and take a look a the new pictures up of the bowel bashing work to be done.

Me and the lads(Wiesiek and young boyos) decided to head off on the weekend for a wet and wild experience. How fitting those words turned out to be. An hour and a half's drive from here there is a picturesque little village called Rekovnica with river, lake and forest accessories for all to enjoy. Wiesiek (or V-8 juice as my father calls him) used to spend his summers in this village as a nipper and knows the locals the way I know the soggy end of a pre-cooked loaf. We arrived in the quaint Rekovnica late Saturday with enough supply for a month or single night depending on your nationality. A drive through the bustling village (six or seven houses as the crow flies) and a few stops in order to utter grunts at the known locals and we arrived at our destinado (sounds smooth eh). A large farmhouse 'twas, where Wiesiek had oft spent his youthful summers no doubt picking daisies and belting out ol' Polish folk tunes with gusto. The inhabiting family were old chums and so the chat came in breathless and extended duration and was topped off with much toothless grinning and offers of straight-from-the-cow milk. The fam said of course we could pitch our fabric-and-pegs on their plot by the lake and so we were off with the young farmer leading the charge. Down grass roads and through fences we went to our mag spot where we were shown wood and swimming bay and offered a small boat for some on lake adventure.

Within a few of the best our tent was up and the lot of us gathered wood for a gargantuan fire. That first eve was spent swilling down soup and such before retiring to beddy-byes with Wiesieck and I sleeping in the car leaving the four young lads to their history of extreme flatulence in the tent. Late the next morn, after intense stretching to offset the affect of sleeping on car seats, hours of gorgeful eating again commenced about the fire. 'Twas early afternoon before any alternate activity was attempted and those included cutting wood to make bows and arrows, running briskly through the nearby cornfields, and capping it off with a short swim in the lake. For myself 'twas a chance to relive the beauty of my countryside childhood and the freedom and activity of such existence. I have not oft thought of it but know that this is one reason for the joy in my dwelling in this place that my heart has always been for the country and the exploration of open space.

We returned to our fire and further gorging before I was invited by Tymek to a lake venture aboard our host's boat. In two of the days earlier ventures this boat had proved to be more than a bit shaky but we were undeterred and after trudging through the customary sludge we were off with only a mild amount of whiplash causing near falls. A swift adjustment was made in putting me at the oars after our realization that me in the back meant rapid capsizement. I was forced to row backwards as my tree length legs allowed for no other way and all the while Tymek behind me informed me that we were taking on water though I saw no evidence and was attempting only to stabalize our vessel amidst repeated major shadows of capsizement. With the grace of a sailing rhinoceros I attempted the chase of a group of swans only to have nautical disaster strike myself and my companion. Within short distance of the swans a minimal movement of my legs and the oars caused an extreme shift of the boat and Tymek and I found ourselves being hurled out. As my head flew swiftly toward water I heard behind me "I knew this would happen" and then the plunge came. The boat somehow swallowed a major gulp of the blue-green wobbly stuff and began a rapid descent. I attempted to hold it to prevent its heading for bottom but the weight was beyond these twig limbs. I turned to find Tymek holding the boat's floating seat and the oars strewn some distance away. Moments later the laughter came for the sheer absurdity of being shipwrecked amidst small lake with nearby swans gazing on and young fellow next to me clinging vigorously to a floating seat. Realizing the boats ownership I made two futile attempts at recovery only to discover shite colored water, five meter depth, and complete lack of boat. I then told Tymek I would swim ashore for help to haul out our vessel but after swimming half the distance in my wet t-shirt I was knackered and simply called out from there to our on shore companions. Wiesieck called back that there was no way we could haul it out from that depth so back I swam to little Tymek on his makeshift dingy. Together we swam to the lakeside, me with the oars and he with seat, laughing all the way and me nearly drowning in weariness from the laughter. We then trudged again through two foot deep sludge by the shore side all the way around to our camp. Nearing the end the sludge was so thick and wearying to traverse but we had remembrances of the mention of leeches and it was as if I took a cattle prod swiftly from behind as I attempted running the last of the way. Ashore amidst further chuckling we worried of telling our hosts but when all was packed and we returned to them 'twas no more issue than paying most of its cost and leaving that ground with an experience to tell to the future outpouring of our loins (sorry for that).

One last adventure on our path home was the decision to view spectacular pasture and valley near the home of a previous host of the lads. We awed at the valley only to at one point end up tire deep in soggiest muck. It took excessive pushing, excessive use of straw about the tires, and a few long and drawn-outs directed to heaven before me and the young lads could get the tires out from their respective mud dwellings. Not in the least a loss however as the journey out was capped with the rapid slamming on of the brakes for the sake of a fine collection of ripe nuts. 'Twas like the days of my youth picking ripe nuts from their berches and wild apples of the extremely sour variety. Just one of those juicy apples was enough to give David's face the imploded look for a lengthy period. Pockets and shirts full of nuts later we were off homeward back to the grind of building the new structure by what are now ancient means.

Take a look at the pics up from our weekend away. Hopefully future posts will not be so long in coming but I know that I have said that before.

I have just a quickie to throw out for the punters. Today was the day to hoist the corner beams that will provide structure to the new guest house on the property. Yours truly was given the task of carving out the hole in the wood for the insertion of one of those beams. I was gung ho for the task of hacking and chopping away to prepare the spot with my chisel and axe/hammer for the job. In a wild and brilliant stroke of genius I first used the axe end to loosen up the wood for chipping away and then proceeded to forget this move and return to hammering with the axe in the same position. Four years of college and oh what a quantity of brainwaves I tell you, thank goodness for those years of well spent educational funding. If 'twas not for a split second realization of my mistake the axe headed would very likely have hacked my thumb clean off but as I realized the error I slowed my pace and only cut into my thumb and index finger instead of removing the two beauties. Just wanted to fill all in on the wonders of my expertise in all manner of carpentry and other manly exploits that involve hammers and smoothed bits of wood.

Based on the meagre number of comments I shall assume that the adoring fans of my literary expertise have survived without a regular dose. In the last weeks I have been living something close to regular life and have not had the time or energy to pen these words. I have returned now to my home away from my home which is no longer home (quite a mouthful). In simpler terms I've spent the last glorious days again in Bojano surrounded in the life and energy that this environment always brings. In Warsaw I had the opportunity to tell of my journey- to tell of the reasons why, what I have learned, how I have grown, whom I have met- and I was overwhelmed by the intensity and depth of this chase after ideals(encapsulated entirely in a chase after and with my wondrous Savior). When I set out last June I had little if any concrete plan in mind and a year later I am saturated with experience of full adventerous growing changing adapting fulfilling relational spriritual marvelous life. When I even begin to tell another of the wonders of this year my heart and mind they are flooded with remembrances of all that has happened and for the rest of my life I will tell stories of these days and relationships gained shall forever occupy a space within my heart. I have learned to trust, follow after, communicate with, be enraptured by, rest upon and passionately love my Savior to so much greater extent because I sacrificed comfort and conformity for life's fullest in his care. I have learned to value moments of relationship as though weighted with gold for in this year I have uttered goodbye to so many whom I might have longed to forever remain in the company of. As you have read, of late my heart has longed for an end to ceaseless journeying. Has desired a place to once again call home and consistent friendships, community to build a foundation upon. The mere mention or ponderance of the future, of family, of marriage, of community, of home makes my heart leap for joy and I see that no longer will the nomadic life be the lifestyle of preparation for that. I don't know yet that my place is found though I know that it discovery is near at hand and if it be that it might be built in the company of such as in these last days I have spent my time then I will be an entirely blessed chap.

These last days were occupied in friendship first in Warsaw with a family there that cares deeply for me and whose care urges me all the time to know this language so that I might more deeply know those people. I returned here to Bojano with them and had two marvelous days in the company of Kasia whom few may remember as the missionary to Guatemala that I met here in Poland last July and who introduced me to Nancy and Wiesieck here in Bojano. She was here in Poland only a short time and it was wonderful to have hours to chat with the friend who meant so much unknowlingly in all that has taken place for me in this country. With the kids of course there have been many games, much laughing, opportunities to feel the freedom and joy of childlike wonder, chances to read to them books of my childhood in crazy silly goobledegook accents, and in the morning lay with them and know that God's treasures are at my side. Two days ago I finally met the eldest son Jonathon who has had a year of his own travel that included meeting my fam a few months ago. We haven't had much time together as of yet but I am looking forward to the opportunity. Ironically now at a time when my heart yearns for a place to call home, for perhaps a house wrought of my own hand and labor; I work together with Wiesieck to build another structure for housing guests on the property. We build a wood house using old methods and this irony is an experience which this idealist is excited by as it inspires the work I wish to do in the future for my own stead. Speaking of such I had the opportunity a week ago to survey the for-sale land of Kasia's father and what an awe inspiring spot. Within short distance of one of Poland's largest cities this spot occupied a peace and tranquility that was unbelievable. Its soil teemed with life and the river and springs of water were heading inspirations to this fellow of all that I could do with such a plot. I don't know yet that such a treasure would be feasable for me to consider purchasing but whatever about that the environment and the life of it had me tickled with wonder.

I realize that this post may be slightly out of the ordinary as it touched life in a very general sense. I feel as though focusing of too many specifics would only bore. Take a gander at the three new albums I added to Lovable Quirks. In the "Summer Days in Bojano" album right after the picture of the duckling are pictures of the land that I saw and was awed by and just after that is a picture together with Kasia and her family. Some of you will recognize that family from last years pictures. I hope to update more often again now that I have gotten used to the wonderful frequency of relationship time here and recovered from lingering sickness (a cough and cold that played upon my weariness from constantly traveling).