Continuing

It's been 7 years since I really updated this but I am back to it. We got out of active duty Marine Corps, moved to California, moved to Sweden, and are currently back in the US. We have purchased a 26-acre lot in Montana off grid using solar, wind, and a generator when we need it. We got it to raise our boys and Rowe. Yes, we had a good baby girl.

I have also finished the academic portion of a marriage and family therapy masters degree. What is left is to accrue clinical hours and obtain licensure. That is ongoing.

But there is something people have been asking Janet and me for some time: How do we raise such wild, helpful, resilient, natural kids? As I understand it, some kids float about like they have a lobotomy, or are so soft that the slightest mishap distresses them to pieces. 

Our kids are physically hard, pretty nice, helpful like a pants full of flaming crap (as I suppose most kids are), but unfiltered when it comes to their wild impulses. And people like it. They wash dishes, dig ditches, split firewood, and aim to please the tribe.

We are building a house, using primarily Ryobi tools, which I have been impressed with so far!

Social Democracy

The Freeman family is back in the US as of April 27 or so.  Swedish Social Services made a hard push to seize our kids. Atlas told stories in school about his super awesome Marine Corps Dad and the socialists within social services determined that having a deployed parent created an "unstable home". They came to his school with police and took him an hour away and interrogated him (in their words) as to his home life. I got a call from the police that they were going to charge me with child endangerment and neglect but were unclear why but indicated it was due to my deployments and the guns I had around the kids back in the US. We met with Swedish Social Services that day and explained everything about my background, degrees, job with Amazon, and where we are now. They told us that they would "allow our children to come home.... today". Janet and I both got the sense they were up to something.  

Janet had made some friends in town and when she met them, they saw she was afraid and upset. They inquired and she explained what was going on. They happened to work in foster care and they both freaked out and told us that because of how the social services had snatched Atlas up and the things they said, we needed to get out of the country NOW. 

That was a Friday. We bought tickets from Stockholm to Copenhagen and flights from there so we could avoid being captured by the Swedes (they have a history of stopping planes in Arlanda (Stockholm). We flew out and Monday morning my phone blew up with Swedish Social Services demanding to know why our kids were not in school, They had gone to grab our kids.  They demanded we come in and see them and I told them "We're in America, baby. We are not coming back!"
When we left, we lost everything we owned. Our landlord messaged us and warned us to stay away because state authorities were knocking doors and interviewing our friends to find out where we were.

In any case, we bought some land in Montana and are rebuilding from scratch. We did really well saving our money (In US accounts, because Sweden taxed me at 90%) and those financial resources are what allowed us to flee.

Don't take your freedoms for granted. I have seen democratic socialism first hand and it takes much more than it claims to give.

The holidays

I personally am glad the holidays are over. What it means to me is that I can begin saving money again. Since about 2 weeks prior to Thanksgiving till yesterday, we have been hemorrhaging money. The lofty goals of future savings and debt reduction, complete with charts and graphs that hang on my bedroom wall, are filling out with a curve opposite of what I had intended. Obviously this grates on me as a man, because a man ought to be able to keep his fiscal house in order. In my mind, a man cannot be a proper man unless he can surplus his pay. So in this instance, I make me sad.

Now, although my money is gone, do not think that it has just gone to sports memorabilia and dual can sippy hats. In fact, I think it was well spent! We took part in a family reunion that occurs every two years in southern Utah. I think there were 46 people there, all siblings or immediate family of siblings.

We figured it was reasonable to go, me having just returned from deployment and all. Below are some pictures of us (some of us) crawling around rocks which Silas was sure was the back of a dragon. He wanted to wake it up so he could ride it or fight it or some such stuff that little boys think they want.

The picture of Janet was my fault. When I snap shots of her, it is usually immediately after a yawn or a sneeze, so she looks all weird. She says I will pay it back .

When we returned, we sank our money into enough tile to rid ourselves of that baby buns armegeddon laminate that has been the curse of our nasty kitchen. Over the course of a Saturday and Sunday, Janet and I rented the kids out to some local salt miners and threw ourselves into getting rid of the baby buns floor. We include the picture of the old floor in the kitchen for compare and contrast purposes.

Certainly that put a major dent into our efforts to make this house and property not look like a hobo's mouth skin any more. There was a remaining portion of cabinet hanging from a soffet where the coke and sugar bender chimpanzees had put it right in the middle of the kitchen. I stared at this interior design lunacy for two weeks solid, imagining the very best way to correct it and modernize it. I knew when to do, but I had only one me. For all of Janet's wonderful gifts that she brings to the table, sometimes carpentry and cabinet hanging are not among them. How to fix the problem and not have the kids begin humming "Skip a Rope," I did not know. But then came our dues ex machina! From seemingly nowhere, Tyson and Cat Martin and family arrived en route to Atlanta from New Hampshire. They just decided to stop in and we forced our hospitality (such as it is) on them. The Martin's are waging their own efforts in remodeling and admittedly doing better than we are. As Tyson and I were walking through the place surveying what I call "improvements," we came upon the chimpanzee cabinets. The dialogue went like this:

Jake: I will be taking these down sometime soon, moving them to THAT wall.

Tyson: When

Jake: Today?

Tyson: Let's get started.

And like that, out came hammers, screws, drills, a sledge hammer, and manly brawn and those cabinets did not stand a chance. Our women folk stood by admiringly, at times losing their breath and fainting into each others arms at our skills so cunning and sharp. Unfortunately, the ceiling became collateral damage and as such, we needed to guy-buy some more drywall. Me, being soft of mind occasionally, did not recall that ceiling drywall is 5/8" while wall gypsum board is 1/2" . I went ahead and had us purchase the latter, which was wrong.

That was alright because while passing the door section, we observed this gem for just $50. The Lowe's door associate said it was a display door, but was usually a $900 door. I do not think I believe him, but still, the door is beautiful and will add to the curb appeal. The current front door has rust on it and looks like it is growing warts under the paint. What's more, when we got home and finally placed it in the door frame (for practice sake), it fit perfectly. No need to reframe or trim, notwithstanding the house is nearly 30 years old. All hail square door frames!

Not to digress, but we went back and purchased more drywall (the proper 5/8" dimension), and still made it home for supper (which was flava-flav hamburgers made with Hollandaise sauce mixed in, served up on golden toasted french bread buns bought right out of the oven of my neighborhood Wal-mart and with my signature garlic pickles!). We came home, put the drywall into the ceiling, gorged ourselves like victors, and still had the wherewithal to watch Cat Martin's personal suggesting of BBC's "Sherlock (which I cannot recommend enough).

All in all, the holidays are not so bad, I guess. I just wish they were cheaper.

-JakeF

Full force

These next few posts will be pretty stream of conscious. A lot has transpired in the last 5 months that we just have not notated. As mentioned, I returned from Afghanistan where we made friends with many dogs that acted human and killed many men that acted like dogs.

Since return, home repair and renovation has been on the forefront of our minds due to possible moves in the future. The very next morning after getting back from Afghanistan, the boys and I made breakfast in our nasty kitchen. It only solidified the fact that we would destroy it to rebuild it.

But before all of that could take place, before we could move on from the load bearing wall coming out, a week or so after I got back from Afghanistan, we were hit by Hurricane Irene. We lost several giant trees in the back yard and the power for about two days.

The shed wall collapsed, which opened our yard into the neighbors yard. That meant there was no protecting them from our hoards of kittens, boys, and rottweilers.

In the meantime, when we had no power for lights and my propane stoves decided not to work, I was able to tap into my inner Lars Ekelund and create an ingenious lighting device. I took a bowl, wrapped it in tin foil with the shiny side out, and suspended it up above a flash light. The curvature and reflective surface gave off an impressive amount of light, enough for Janet to practice her craft of being a lovely and wonderfull momma all the time, in all weather.

We then were forced to cook out of doors, but my boys and I were not daunted by it. We fired up the charcoal grill and ate like kings on our beef and chicken. It even had the flavor of being cooked in 70 mile per hour winds.

Not long after that, Silas started kindergarten. We went and purchased him some clothes from H&M with the intent that he be a dapper and respectful boy. I must say he is one of the finest dressed boys in his class, at least whern he is not cutting his clothes with scissors or biting holes in his sleeves. He is slowly but surely learning that he is not a jungle boy and has even found admiration for the fairer sex in two little girls named Piper and Maleeah. The latter is black and it was funny watching him try and describe who she was. To him, "She is like me, except she is a girl and her skin is like the color of momma's hair."

His appreciation for well tailored clothes and sophisticated women only lasted until we went camping up in the Pisgah National Forest in early September, however. As has been their modus operandi since they were born, as soon as we got into the mountains and out of the car, all these boys were naked, sticks were in hand, and faces were designed with ash, mud, and charcoal.

They were on the hunt in the river for anything that moved. Eerily enough, I don't think we saw or heard a living creature, not even a bird, the entire 3 days were were there.

I took some time to hunt for some mushrooms in true Swedish fashion. I know enough of wilderness farming of what mushrooms are potentially good or bad. I did the self test from the SAS handbook to make sure I would not poison the family, and when I did not die, I made a local addition to our stew!

When we got back, I bought a box of recessed lights, we got some paint, and went at the house with gusto. The results of that expedition are below:

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My next post, which likely should be tomorrow, will detail the unexpected arrival of some friends and further improvements on the house.

-Jake

Back from the war

I returned from Afghanistan August 15. August 16 I commenced in tearing out the load bearing wall separating our kitchen/dining room from the front room. It's become clear that the house was wired by a troop of chimpanzees on a 3 day coke and sugar bender. Now we have decided that the architect was likely a serial house breaker. Needless walls and corners and dark spaces are (were) the rule. I have never been the type to let a felon get the best of me, so I have dedicated my time to adding lights and tearing out walls. It's like an analogy for pure Ayn Rand Objectivism.

Even a dull man can notice that the space has opened up considerably. I had a contractor come out and give me a bid for tearing out the wall. He told me if I bought the materials for the beam, it would cost me around $700 to set the beam in, which had me tearing the wall out. Granted that mistakes vis-a-vis load bearing walls are either non-existent or cataclysmic, I elected to have a professional guide me. Or I had intended to until I went to the Global War on Terror (GWOT). Upon my return, my nerves were steeled and my gaze was set. "Mrs. Janet", I said, " Tear down this walll." Of course, she did little the tearing, so I did. I bought two 2X6X12s and a length of 1/2 inch plywood. I cut the plywood to match the boards, matched the lenth of the boards to the length of the wall, use a triangular screw pattern (from both sides) to create a beam, set up temp walls, crushed out the old, set up king studs, set my beam, held my breath, knocked out my temps and.......nothing! Which was the metaphysical perfect answer! Beams and joists should not speak so in their own way, this new beam/joist alliance is perfect. Plus, considering that it all cost me about $65 and 8 hours, I think I won.

Janet in the meantime has been in constant Beast Mode. Over deployment she lost some 45 pounds by diet change and gym time. Now she is gearing up for a figure competion in March or June. For Christmas she got Arnold's Encyclopedia on Body Building. Turns out it was the best gift ever. It's funny to see her in the gym deadlifting 155 pounds and everyone stops within 30 feet and stares. All the girls sheepishly step behind their men. All the men wish they could manage a beastly pump like she gets.

In the end, it seems only right that wild boys need a beast mode momma, a handy man pappa, and a very fine hat.

So I had assumed that given the sensitive nature of my current employment that this blog would be off limits. However, I met a jounralist who is a fellow lover of liberty and felt it wise to introduce her to my blog so that we may with greater ease stay in touch. I googled this page and clicked on the primary result and I found my blog was available! Frabjous day, indeed!

The current work of downsizing the hostile organization that I talked about last post is going well. Many men (I dare say that there are literally no women in the competition) have left in a blaze of glory, while others have felt the situation was too precarious and wished their former employers well. Most have gone into agriculture, which is honorable employment, to be sure!

It seems we are doing some good work here. The new arrangements we are making with a third organization seems to be working to our favor in terms of being more inclusive and human friendly.

Means and ends

In two weeks I deploy to Afghanistan. I have noticed something about my interactions with people. Usually when it is time to say goodbye, or in the past I have felt that I have more vested emotional interest in the departure than the other party. I mean more longing for the parting to not occur and for perhaps the duration to be short. But during the holidays as I was parting company with certain favorite sons and daughters of this world, I felt almost pithy and nearly flippant, as in, "Yeah, Whatever..."

In my mind I know that I am about to step into a precipace. War is something I have never been to, especially an insurgency. And we will be in a wild area. Death and injury occur. My head tells me that the American style of warfare leads to very few friendly casualties. Chances are that I will not be injured. But my friends and family were rather intense with their goodbyes. Perhaps it is part of the nature of man to disregard momentous moments like leaving friends and family for live war because to deeply feel the departure is to accept the gravity that destiny may call.

If not, I return in August. By that time, I may be dealing in black market modular prosthesis.

I feel that the Marine Corps has been for me an investment.