Well, it's official: I've officially become my father. How so? Well, a quick backstory to share with you all.

We live in a neighborhood that is within a mile of a state university. Like all good Wisconsin state schools, there are plenty of students that like to party. Hey, I get it; it's what you do in Wisconsin.

We intentionally bought a home in a neighborhood that has put a block on future apartments/rental properties. The idea is that if someone wants to sell their home in this neighborhood, someone can't come in, buy it, and turn it into a rental unit for students. The city backs the ordinance, and should someone want to convert a residential property into student rentals, there is a long, drawn out process with community engagement involved. It's been nice since we've moved here.

Then, last summer, an elderly couple bought a run-down house for $170K USD, restored it, and then listed it on the market for $340K USD. No way, we thought...no way someone would pay that kind of money for a two-bedroom, single bath, single floor, 1,000 square foot home. Well, as fate would have it, someone did pay full price and we were all shocked. Who would buy an overpriced home like that for that kind of money? We were curious to see who our new neighbors would be. And, like those stormy clouds above, we learned soon enough at the start of the spring semester. Students.

As you can see, Ms. Mabel was not thrilled by the news either. Now, I have no problem with students. The fact that one young man's parent's bought the house for him and his friend to live at during the semester doesn't bother me either. I get it; some people have a lot of money to spend willy-nilly. No, it's not that so much as, but I have had a problem with their behavior the past two weeks.

Our neighbood has a total of four young children under the age of four. Again, nothing unique to this area, but it has been something I've considered given that the new neighbors have been a bit "over the top." First, it was garbage they couldn't bother to put in their bins blown all over our alleyway. Then it was the huge pile of Busch Light cans in the middle of their backyard. Ok, we thought, it's fine...just garbage. Then the parties started. Other students parked our neighbor's in on their driveways. Kids were walking across our neighbors yards carrying more booze. Then, the loud music came. Then, the non-stop f-bombs. And all of this began to occur Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights, beginning roughly at 5 pm. Lovely.

As I've mentioned in a previous post, we've put a lot of time, energy, and money into making our backyard a "sanctuary of sorts" for us over the past 2-3 years. It's by no means perfect, but it is our home. I mean, I have future astronomy plans back here! I'm not going to listen to some garbage music and f-bombs while trying to figure out where the hell the Beehive Cluster is! So Liza and I did the neighborly thing last week Thursday; while the student party was hitting a "totally understandable" drunk zenith at 530 PM, we walked over and made our case. "Guys," I said, "there a lot of children in this neighborhood. Is there any way you can keep it down?" Away we left, to chuckles, snickers, and "baby voiced" whining. Again, I get it. I was young once too...then Friday happened.

Now you are probably wondering, "Dustin, what the hell...how have you become your father?" Great question, my friends!

As I returned home Friday around 5:30 PM, I walked into our backyard to see Liza, Hattie, and Mabel playing. I took Hattie to show her the progress I've made on her playhouse, and was not paying much attention to the kids nearby. I then walked back outside and looked at Liza, and she goes "Do you hear that? They are mocking us right now." I felt the blood curl inside me, and I went to the fence line to listen. Sure enough, they were doing their thing; the f-bombs, loud music, and impressions of us were in full effect. I thought about Hattie, our garden, our cherry tree, Hattie's future playhouse, and my astronomical adventures, and my drill in the garage. I then passed on the drill, and I called the police.

Ok, I'm kidding about the drill (I'd never do such a thing!), but not the police. This is the first time in the history of me that I've ever called the police. Not once before, ever, never. I don't do that, I'm not my dad! Right? Wrong!!

Needless to say, the police showed up, the kids dispersed quickly (they do that when they are underage and sitting around a mountain of Busch Light cans), and I no doubt became a very popular man of their household. But hey, they shut up. I'm ok with it. Now comes the celebration!

The Celebration

You thought this post was going to be all negative, didn't you? Well, you were only partially correct. On Saturday night, with no students in sight, and a possible victory in hand, I decided to celebrate with Ms. Mabel in 40F temperatures. How did I go about that? Well, for starters, I got my trusty grill going:

I gave Ms. Mabel a freeze dried goose neck (she loves those things, by the way):

I brought out some of our local meat CSA ribeyes:

Then, I proceeded to grill them up with a set of veggie kabobs. The food turned out very well and I hit medium rare perfectly:

Oh, and I may have had one or two celebratory Moon Man too:

Bear in mind, the empties DO NOT go into a big pile in our backyard. Liza would kill me!

And with all of that, another #engagetheweekend adventure is in the books! What do you think? Am I officially that "old cranky man" that lives on the block? I mean, I'm 44...maybe? Should I have not phoned the police? Part of me feels guilty, but mostly I feel great. I don't know; adulthood isn't at all what I expected it to be, but hey, I have a backyard to enjoy. So maybe me becomming my dad isn't so bad after all?

Thanks as always for checking this rant out! And don't fret; I have not forgotten about Mothman either...very soon!