Trench with chickens
One thing I discovered while I was pregnant is how exercise affects my general well-being. I have always enjoyed physical activity, but it took a bad pregnancy for me to see exercise as something I needed for both mental and physical happiness. I really craved that endorphin rush, especially because I otherwise felt so shitty; I walked 3 miles a day over my lunchbreak. And it helped.
I still require a real, and regular, burst of activity. If I don't get it, I am more prone to a bout of the blues and/or crabbiness. So I try to incorporate a little aerobic activity into every day. Mostly, this means turning the compost piles, but the trench warfare I took on around the garden yesterday is another example.
And considering the trench has been reexcavated, and the compost piles have been turned, AND it is another rainy day, I wonder what the hell I am going to do with myself today.
Postscript:
here sat the child across from me as I typed this up. You can't really see her runny nose or the blue from the marker on her lips. She had just made me find a pencil for her, as the crayons and markers didn't cut it. "I don't want to draw, I want to write," said she.
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