|Remains of Mt. Crabstick|
|And where it went.|
We finally, finally built a new raised bed in the back yard, not because I'm particularly enthusiastic about more gardening, but because we needed to do something with the pile of dirt in the driveway. Even after filling in the raised bed, there was still dirt left over. Jon used the last of it to fill in some eroded areas and planted grass over it. I had gotten adept at backing down the driveway and slotting my car between the dirt pile and the embankment. I felt bad ass doing that, so I kind of miss it.
I've been buying very expensive vegetarian burgers at Whole Foods. They're made by a local business, and I do think it's worthwhile to spend more if it supports the local economy but I'm starting to question my habit of just buying whatever appeals to me without considering the price.
Speaking of expensive groceries, I went to the Farmer's market again. I'm suspicious of some of the produce booths. What's with the guy selling apples in May? I will only shop at booths that show evidence of being truly local. A plaque stating the name and location of the farm is a good sign. Also, less variety, not more. This time of year, a modest selection of crop offerings seems realistic for a small farmer, not a vast stall with dozens of different things, all slickly packaged.
|Is it local?|
Didn't your mother tell you not to crack your joints?
My left wrist has developed some extra moving parts. Two weeks ago it was killing me, and I walked around for a week, cradling my wrist like it was an injured bird. I got a splint and wore it splint for a week, and now the pain has calmed down enough that I've been able to identify its locus as the point where my second metacarpal meets my wrist. All is well until I flex my hand forward and a bump arises out of my wrist and the metacarpals move in a nauseating way that suggests they are not as firmly attached to the wrist as they ought to be.
I have a terrible habit of joint cracking, and I remember being half asleep one night and cranking down hard on my wrist with my chin in an attempt to crack it, and feeling a searing pain and then going back to sleep and forgetting all about it. I must have torn the ligament. I'm left-handed and I always assumed that I was fairly well ambidextrous, but it turns out there are lots of things that I can do only with my left hand. So don't crack your joints, kids.
To make up for such a boring post, I will leave you with this corgi.
And this bunny.
|This is what work is like after a holiday.|