Tuesday, Dec. 08, 2009
Dear Diary:

"I've been Borg-ed," the spousal unit mock-whined.

I suppose he was, really. When I get an idea in my head resistance is futile.

Right after breakfast Saturday we went out to admire our shiny new walkway and I pointed out how very ugly the cinder blocks looked at the end of our handiwork. I mentioned a very large rock he'd pulled out of the woods a few months ago as being the perfect step/backstop to finish up the end of the walkway.

The spousal unit demurred. He had other plans for this rock. I mentioned that this rock was exactly the right length, width and height for our project. I'd measured it myself Friday. Rocks like that don't exactly grow on trees.

He said he'd think about it, pointing out that the cinder blocks, while ugly, would keep things stable until next spring. I opined that this would be an excellent time to wrap up the project because we have time now and next spring is going to be frantic.

I began ticking off the list: there's the waterworks to wrap up for the new pond. My new garden shed needs to be roofed, sided and stained. We have to build an antique brick support wall for the glass wall our neighbours gave us last year. That 300 pound glass wall has to be assembled and raised.

We want to finish up some siding that never got done on the new woodshed. The spousal unit's workshop could use siding. The playhouse we built for our daughter when she was a child needs repairs.

That's the short list. Of his carpentry type projects. I have many separate gardening ones of my own next spring. As the pile o' jobs grew higher and higher, the spousal unit could see the sense in wrapping up the surprise walkway now.

Wasn't sure we could do it.That, of course, was my cunning plan.

Together we managed to get chains wrapped around the rock and we dragged it up our road to our house. It took quite a lot of horsing, as in over three hours of work, but between the two of us and the tractor, the rock eventually was set.

It got cold overnight and Sunday the ground froze enough that had we waited, we would not have been able to set that stone. Monday continued cold. Then today (Tuesday) we woke up to this:

First snow.

That would be the visual equivalent of a window slamming shut. We could not have cut it much closer than we did. That we were able to do such a big landscaping project in our climate at this time of year is truly amazing. Winter usually has us down for the count at this point.

And now for something completely different.

Dec. 1 was the first day that folks in our age bracket (that would be The Older Than Dirt and Thus Totally Expendable Crowd) could get their H1N1 (Swine Flu) shot. The spousal unit and I decided to wait a bit for the initial rush to end and went in on Monday.

We had to fill in a brief form and read a hand out about all the pros and cons of the shot. There was a long list of possible consequences of H1N1 which culminated with death, as in This Flu Can Dead You.

There was a long list of possible side effects from the shot such as tenderness, a slight fever, and joint pain, but there wasn't any mention of death. I took this lack of death to be a good sign.

I sailed through my shot without a single side effect. The spousal unit had soreness for a day around the arm muscle where he had his shot. That was it. I have had great fun teasing him about his puny constitution.

My sister, who works in a hospital in southwestern Ontario, said they are just now getting out from under the first wave of serious H1N1 illnesses. She said the hospital is girding for a second wave, expected in February.

Fingers crossed that our vaccine immunity kicks in before wave two washes through Canada.

Tomorrow we face a winter storm watch. They're talking about serious winds and snow. It will be a good day to hunker down by the woodstove.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 143 miles.

Going Nowhere Collaboration

Goal for 2009: 500 miles


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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