Digging mud, yeah!

Bommel didn’t feel well last night. He was moaning around bedtime, and even vomited before settling (still moaning) on the floor, rather than his favorite cushion. I was quite worried when I finally went to bed, keeping a wary eye on the bobtail until I drifted off to sleep.

I get up an hour earlier than usual, knowing that in order to get anything done in the next week, I need that extra hour in the morning. I’m sore as…well, very sore when I wake up. At least fifteen minutes pass before I’m able to move without every inch of my body complaining like mad.

But anyway, Bommel looks a little wan (or pale) but otherwise he seems all right and once I’ve gone through the stretches and the morning rituals I chase the other dogs from the porch. The old bobtail needs some peace and quiet to climb down, and he does so slowly while I head down, alternating between watching him and the rest of my pack.

Once inside, I find big brother already at his computer, attempting to get the satellite receiver working, and frustrated like heck about not managing it.
We have breakfast, hovering over the website that should enable the procedure, but when the wanted result is unable to attain, we set up at the table and return to our edits.

We work for several hours, getting through several pages until the younger sibs arrive and it’s time to get outside and tackle the garden project again. The first hour is spent gathering debris from the center garden, piling everything on the truck bed, and tying it all up.

We also dig out a pile of tiles that we have been saving for several years now, neatly putting them away where the dogs will not break them, or spread them out of the rocks the way they did on the old location. Hah. During this time, Big brother leaves to go to the satellite store in the village and I head down the mountain with the younger sibs.

The huge strips of the old liner need to be removed today, and we drag them out, roll them up and tie them together in manageable packages so little brother and I can carry them up to the first gate for later disposal.

Knight II is being a pain, and in the midst of the heavy task I need to put everything aside to discipline him firmly. After five minutes of sit and follow exercises he finally calms down enough for me to move around without the constant risk of the Great Dane bowling me over.

Four trips later, and breathing hard, we take a short breather before little sister and I join middle sister in the corner where muddy dirt is still piled up high. Little brother departs to start on dinner and we tackle the mess, slowly digging our way through it and wheeling it away to a different terrace.

Eight full wheelbarrows removed, a semblance of the rocky corner is finally in view, along with the concrete gutter located on top of it. Over the years it filled up completely, serving as a planter for weeds and vines that now need to be hacked through until we can remove at least three yards of hard-packed dirt.

Pretty exhausted from the shoveling and carting the heavy mud away, we trudge up the mountain to return to the house.
Little brother is preparing homemade pizza (regretfully he’s not gotten further than preparing the crust yet) and is trying to work on the toppings and crust at the same time. Considering we all really want to eat fast, little sister and I join in, while middle sister heads to the carport to get the dog food.

I can only muster the energy to roll out the crust for one pie, so little brother is on his own with the second as I take to grating the cheese, giving the requested instructions for the oven.

Sixty minutes later dinner is devoured, sending everyone to the location of his or her choice, pleasantly stuffed. I settle at the table, taking two tops that need repairing from a bag and notice my hands shake when I try to get the thread through the needle.
In the end I manage, and sew while watching another recorded episode of “Life”.

Bommel still isn’t feeling well. He’s lying at my feet and raises his head every once in a while for a pat. Big brother and I resume our edit, but neither one of us really has the energy to get a lot done. In the end we call it a day half an hour before midnight and I head up to my cabin for the evening rituals.

I’m so not looking forward to tomorrow. Lesson day, darn it! It is totally ruining something that I love. Ah well, what has to be done, has to be done in the end, I guess. No sense worrying about it unnecessarily, it won’t help anyway.
For now, I’m just not going to think about it.