A few days ago, I was working in a rural area of south eastern Wisconsin for a landscaping company. My coworker and I were driving to our next job when we came over a hill and had to slam on the brakes.

There before us was a mom and her two daughters struggling hard to get control of the situation they had found themselves in.

On the street, lumbering along, was a full-grown pig; exhilarated by his new-found freedom but encumbered by his pursuers.

As I sat in my truck, waiting for the small family to capture this gallivanting behemoth, I had a thought.

"Man, I love my home."

I live in Racine, Wisconsin. An unexciting, underdeveloped, dilapidated hybrid town barely noticeable on a drive from Chicago to Milwaukee.

Nothing ever happens here. Nothing changes. The possibility that a Walmart might get built down the street is big news.

And yet, there might not be a more pleasant place to live in the world.

My little home of Racine Wisconsin is not actually so small, about 90,000 people live here. But it is unique. With a river behind my house, a farm across the street, a drug house next door, a giant lake five minutes away, a shopping center two minutes east and state hunting land two minutes west, there is a lot of variety.

It's not that my home is really all that special. It's not that my home is new, exciting or especially good at anything or known for anything.

But my home is distinctly pleasant. There is not much going on. There never was and there probably never will be. Don't come here if you want to party. But if you want to watch the corn grow, fish in the river, or just sit out on the patio enjoying a cool summer breeze off Lake Michigan, then Racine, Wisconsin, is the place for you.

And hey, you might see some random pigs running around!