Save water, shower with a friendly bucket! We’re too big (and old) to do the romantic “commingling in the shower” routine. I’m bound to smack an elbow and revive the softball-sized bursitis routine anyhow. But the runoff doesn’t deserve to go down the drain entirely and we have plants to water.
Yesterday the amped-up, blood-recirculated, druggy spandex cycle-warriors ran around the region on multi-thousand dollar pedal-pushers. I spent my early life with no car and my college vehicle experience was travel to and from the grocery store via the cast-iron weight of a Schwinn Varsity as my sole University transport. I got OK at going up and down the steep mountains of Santa Cruz without the parental funds to indulge my Campagnolo fantasies – but seeing affluent classmates walk into the lecture hall (and late) with a $3,000 bike on their shoulder wearing spandex underwear still inveighs against them. At the Big Hideous University-place I once worked with an aspiring Olympic cyclist (female) who did the Denver Training Camp thing, and also moonlighted at NASA doing simulation work – she was nice but a bit spoiled. I’m fed up with the holier-than-thou bicycelitesticalis in their fashion jammies running up and down the narrow and crowned roads of the back-country, hogging the vertical space. I don’t want to see them in a ditch, but obviously many lack any judgment apart from their own smug sense of self entitlement and choose to pridefully occupy a space where a logging truck often goes – well it’s a problem – for them.
Sooo…rant over, Temps in the low 90’s today out on the deck of the SS Low Granite Redoubt, and we were working with the rocks again earlier, sinus whatever notwithstanding. Dig we must. We cut back a lot of stuff yesterday and the day before and today too – the rocks never sleep, but a lot (ALL) of the plants are “leggy,” so we’re cutting them back now. If they survive the parched drought restrictions of summer then fine and good, if not we’ll replant. And then dusting the perimeter with tanbark. We worked yesterday too, and that was a Sunday. One thing about retirement is every day is a Sunday, or a Saturday – or my favorite: a Thursday. No difference between rest-days and other days -and you might be working or NOT on something other. What matters is when you hit the Last-Call button, that’s what counts.