Two showers later and my nails are still caked with dirt, fingers pocked with thorns from the roses and raspberries, palms with blisters from a wooden-handled shovel with a very sharp edge on the metal spade-shaped bowl and the best, shortest and yet heaviest shovel we own in order for me to wield it properly. I moved just over three-quarters of a cubic yard of soil myself yesterday and now, due to the impending storm coming tonight and tomorrow, I have to get it finished, when I would much rather have a long sauna and a short swim, put on pajamas, order a crappy west-coast pizza from somewhere and eat it in the dark while watching scary movies.
Garden Jesus didn't show up yet today but I think I met him anyway in the form of a woman who stopped to talk to me in the seed aisle at the local small hardware store and we struck up great and long conversation and then I left thinking about it all day. It was focused on children growing up and then self, afterward. It was based around identity, before and after and on enthusiasm and making one's own decisions and it was almost as if Skateboard Jesus (remember him?) found a different form and perhaps a different approach, and came right back, to make me think.
Life feels good right now. I wrote in my gratitude journal last night. I made macaroni and cheese for dinner (we love our starchy pastas in this house) and I drank enough water. I felt like I had accomplished along but my bones winged and hawed in misery as I tried and failed to get comfortable enough to sleep. This morning the house is quiet, though there is a big bowl of chocolate eggs on the table, and the laundry machines send a quiet hum through the floors beneath me. I have the countdown coffee on, as there are four or five keurig pods left and we are limping to the finish, here and then it goes in the trash and will not be replaced.
I bought a jar of instant. Fuck it.
I want to finish all of my projects and this week I'm going to work on finding the energy to do just that.