Another day of manual labor. I got to use one of those giant, gas-powered weed whackers today, which worked much better than the little electrical one that up to this point was the only weed whacker I had ever whacked weeds with. Almost a tongue twister, that. Anyway, I mowed down all the star thistle in the garden, which would have been quite dangerous if I hadn't been wearing a large, orange pair of chaps and goggles. Imagine thistle heads propelled into the air faster than bullets. As it was, I managed to cover myself in plant juice. I have to admit, it's kind of fun using a weed whacker. It sure does scare the local rodents though.

Afterwards, not feeling quite manly enough, I busted up some wooden pallets with a sledgehammer so that future campfires will have kindling. I stopped when I broke the sledgehammer. It's stupid to do this kind of labor in August. I had to keep raiding the ice machine in the dining hall, my plant- spattered appearance earning dubious looks from the violinists practicing nearby.

When I got home I actually had the place to myself, which is weird. Jen and the kids are off visiting friends on the other side of the hill, where she informs me it's 20 degrees cooler. They should be back soon though. I love having time to myself occasionally, but I miss them. I spent a productive afternoon watching the second season of Six Feet Under on DVD, thanks to Jen's sister who keeps sending such things our way. I glanced at the site when I was looking for the URL to link to, and I think I read a spoiler. You have been warned. Do not follow the link. Ha ha.