There are moments when I feel like Marn, Warrior Princess, that despite my 52 years I can pretty much do anything I want. And then there are moments when I realize that while I'm not exactly in the autumn of my life, I'm definitely in the Labour Day Weekend of my life.

I spent a large part of Saturday and Sunday planting the 2,000+ daffodils we dug out and divided from my daffodil meadow last spring.

The cool thing about daffodils is that they double every three years or so. If you dig them up every five or six years, you can cover larger and larger areas with them. In theory this is free gardening.

It's free in the sense that it costs no money, just insane amounts of backbreaking labour. I'll be spending a large part of today doing it, too, and I know the job still won't be done. It involves digging a hole about 16-18 inches in diameter and about 10 inches deep, chopping up the soil at the bottom of the hole so the daffies will have something to get their roots in, mixing in a handful of bonemeal and planting the daffies.

Once a row is planted, I fill in these holes and start another row. I do this until all the daffies are planted or I perish in a bizarre, shovel-related mishap.

Gardening is not for sissies.

Yesterday, after five hours of this, I was walking around with that oh so sexy Fred Sanford "I'm coming 'Lizabeth" walk. I know. You're jealous of the spousal unit and the fact that he gets all that pulchritude. Try not to be bitter.

Party girl that I am, I ended up in bed early last night clad in my love goddess flannelette pajamas, the seductive spearmint odour of the Tiger Balm on my back delicately scenting the air. It was a threesome--me, the spousal unit, and snugged under my achy breaky back my best friend in the world, the heating pad.

Wipe that smirk off your face. All the cool kids have heating pads. Really. I mean it. Don't make me come over there and smack you with my walker.

I figure I have two or three more days of this and then the job will be done.

Or I'll perish in a bizarre, shovel-related mishap.

Either way, I'll be out of my misery, eh.

--Marn

There's a new inductee into the Bazonga Boosters Hall o' Fame, today! AND, and Mis made a second donation, parted with more of her hard-earned buckazoids supporting me as I run the Jog for the Jugs Oct. 5 in Montreal.

is the latest donor and can proudly sport the shoddily Photoshopped yet justly coveted red rectangle below.

P.P.S.- That iron woman, Karen is doing an unbelievable 60 MILE WALK FOR BREAST CANCER! If you don't want to sponsor me, perhaps you'd want to sponsor her. Yowza, that makes that 5K Jog for the Jugs seem embarrassingly short.

Mileage on the Marnometer: 426.91 miles (687 kilometers)

Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers