>The only problem with weekends is they are too short. Hell, even a shitty weekend tends to be too short, never mind a good one. As spring has flirted with us, it has been fantastic to get outside and start doing some clean-up around the house, planting stuff, and generally acting like an urban homesteader. A few hours outside getting hands and knees dirty is time well spent, if you ask me. Joe Bageant touches on this in an essay he wrote called “On Native Ground”:
My next book is partly about the value of hard physical manual labor. Physical work that directly provides sustenance deepens the practitioner. It allows for contemplation while working. And develops the inner self in dozens of ways that simply performing a single task for a single purpose, money, does not.
I couldn’t agree with that statement more. I’m not talking about hard labor like busting up rocks for the State, but clearing out a flower bed or herb bin is sure satisfying when you know you’re going to be eating the fruits of that down the road.
Speaking of which, our primitive little corner ‘o growing stuff is starting to get wild. We have 60+ tomato plants coming up, and the peppers are finally starting to poke their lazy shoots through the soil too.
Put in a lot of time outside this weekend, got in some music, and even a little writing. Can’t complain about that productivity! And the trusty Blackspots continue their transition from fashion statement to work shoe. That seems entirely appropriate.
As part of spring cleaning, I culled my bookshelf and took a bunch to The Book Exchange. This place about makes my head explode because they often have a lot of great old stuff you really can’t get anymore; sure, you can go out and get some new edition of Dune, but what about a battered copy from the 70s with really cheezy artwork on the cover? Yeah, I have one, and I got it there a while back. This time around, while I was waiting for them to tally my current stack (they pay cash for hardbacks and graphic novels, and give credit for paperbacks) I discovered a stack of old Conan paperbacks that I had back when I was in high school (okay, a couple of them are newer than that, but a good half of them are the vintage, Frazetta-covered ones). Shelf space be damned, I had to grab them! All this magical barbarity for a little over $40, and that wasn’t even real money because I have more credit there than I will probably ever use! I told Julia, “What a great time to be alive!” and she laughed . . . but I was damn serious, people!