For a slow day...

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Well, it is pretty slow. I did get out and pick up sticks. I picked up many sticks, branches, and a log or two. I did not pick up every twig and I am simply hoping I got the big ones, or the ones big enough to be a problem. A sickle might work here, though maybe not. It just is not quite high enough nor will it likely get that high. At least the official lawn. The wilds which cover the small bit of my land leading into the next lot, which is vacant and overrun, is another matter. Sam went along, protecting me from mice and deciding I might be tasty or at least worth a go once in a while. I raked up several large areas of twigs, pine needles, and... other stuff, up to 3 to 5 wheelbarrow loads. I am not even sure what to do with this, though I know a wheelbarrow is the next item on my immediate shopping list. I have at least two other demands for a wheelbarrow.

A big bowl of bean soup for late lunch, along with three slices of the bread I bought yesterday. However, I do believe I ate too much. That is something I will be digging into, foodwise, as I begin exploring these new and wonderful foods. Volume, that is. How much should I really be eating is an annoying topic. What it says on the sides of cans or at the food pyramid sites is ludicrous, even dangerous, to me and to many others. It is based on a 54 year old post-menopausal woman's "ideal" diet. First of all, it is for a woman. Secondly, it is for an older women. Thirdly, it is for a time in her life when she is even less physical than ever before, and less capable of the physical beyond it. Fourth, what the hell is an ideal diet, and to whom is it truly ideal... Ideal? No, I will have to experiment and get a feel for the right amounts.

It is not that I feel bloated, it is that I am tired. Come on, we are talking about beans, bread, butter, and milk. A large bowl, to be sure, but with more juice than beans. Sure, three (albeit thin) slices of sourdough bread, and one honking glass of milk, and then another half a glass. I hate petite (standard) glasses, and have found real glasses that fit my size, fist, and strength. Then again, there is the notion that until my body believes food will be offered regularly, it may simply not use it, storing whatever I put in. That, I have heard, along with potentially overeating, will cause drowsiness after consumption of even moderate volumes.

Little else is happening today. The meal beat me up and before that I seemed to be dragging butt. Still, I would like to dig into the dishes, store a few things, clear the empty boxes from the kitchen and elsewhere, and set up the bed. There is no guarantee I will do more than sit here making funny faces, jokes, and gigging about the results of the bean soup late lunch. Yeah, but... that is not all bad. Hmm, better still... a bath! Bubble bath! It would make me perky for the first time in... a while. Or more, percolatory? Never... mind...

Time to let Sambot in, give her some razzing, check her for tics, and maybe do some of that list. Oh... right. With the printer, copier, and fax (I think) going, I might be able to get some paperwork faxed out, after writing a letter (almost done with that, actually, just need the policy number and a few factoids for their bean counters), and pull down, print, fill in, and prepare to register for the tax rebate on the purchase of the home. So much to do, so difficult to keep it all on track, so much gas...

Later.