- Whether I’m exercising enough
- Whether I can afford a gym membership
- How I don’t feel like exercising (because that doesn’t matter, the ground needs hoein’)
- How many reps I have to do (I gotta go until it’s done, although I do have to worry about whether I’m doing too much on one side–I’m always finding my hoe or rake on the same side no matter how much I consciously switch)
- Whether my heart rate is getting up (now it’s more like whether I’m going to have a stroke or not)
- Whether I’m going to have time for strength training (I wake up every day like it’s day two of just starting to work out, when I’ve been doing this for weeks–I’m going to have a Ms. Universe back)
- The soul-dilemma of eschewing physical labor while paying money to go lift heavy things up and down repeatedly or run in place on a machine. (Today I really wished all those folks up at Golds would just head on down here and pay me $15 a month–let’s use all that sweat for something useful.)
- Whether my fake ADD will get me off-track of my exercise plan (now my fake ADD makes me want to half-plow 5 rows instead of completely finishing one).
- Whether I’m modeling hard work for my children
- Whether I’ll sleep well tonight.
So, there are some worries I don’t have anymore.
I could list the ones I do have, but that’s a bit of a downer. Aside from feeling like (and being) a total poser trying to farm, it is lots of fun. It rained today, but not so hard I couldn’t hoe. Bought seed potatoes and onions and late-planting peas to go in tomorrow and Friday.
Talked to some Utahns today, felt out of place and awkward. I happily socialize within my family and friend circles here as much as I ever socialized with folks before, but there is nothing that puts me back in my shell faster than hanging out with regular folks here. Totally nice people, but not my scene, really, and it’s very hard to make conversation. Which, if you know me, is very weird.
Jen, the books I’m reading are Rodale’s Guide to Organic Gardening (Encyclopedia style) and a 70s version of Rodale’s Guide to Composting, which is extremely comprehensive yet somehow never gets to a concise point. I’ll write concise directions for composting here one of these days, and I’ll tell you, it doesn’t take 350 pages.
To Diane, the house thankfully is about 75 yards from the chicken coop so if they turn out to be super stinky, I can deal. However, I’m using a composting-litter method that basically says to throw more organic (alive) material in the coop if you smell anything (grass clippings, wood shavings, leaves, etc.) You are sure to have a full report.
The book I like for all things country living–chickens, gardening, building, self-sufficiency all around–is this one.
Can’t recommend it highly enough, and it’s fun to have and read even if you live in a cement cage, and I know, because I’ve been reading it under such circumstances for years.