Ask me how I know.
So see, this is our little mountain cabin (well, it’s really a house, but it’s my idea of camping). Isn’t it cute? That forest behind it is the George Washington National Forrest. It goes on for something like a gazillion miles:
Now, here are our dogs:
Yeeaaahhhh. Us to.
So today all my grill fries are at a Mediterranean cooking class, and I couldn’t go, because I have to be at the cabin to help Do Stuff. Mike decided that today was fence hole post day, and I couldn’t fake cramps. I was also wondering what today’s physical activity would be. I shouldn’t have worried.
This is how you dig a fence hole post in the side of the mountain:
- Mike digs as far as he can with a gas powered post hole digger
- I jump down on a towel and dig out all the rocks and dirt I can with my gloved hands
- Mike has another go at it with the digger, then gives up and chips away at it with this big ginormous metal pole thingy with a sharp end while I jump up and away
- I jump down again to clear more rocks
- Rinse and repeat
- Continue until we have a 2 or 3 feet deep hole, and I’m basically lying on my towel in a sort of weird push-up position, bracing myself against the side of the hole with one hand, and clearing the rubble out with another
This is what we did today. For 5 hours. Until we could do no more. We did all the holes but I think we got through the last few on sheer will power alone. We were both covered in subsequent layers of dirt, mud, sweat, water, insect repellent, and scratched bug bites. (never buy that bug spray again)
We are whooped. We went through a gallon of water. My entire body is shaky, and I think I’ll be lucky if my activity tomorrow (day 1 of week 5) consists of much more than gentle stretching and saying “OWW OWWW OWWWWW holy shit OWWW” a lot.
There is a lasagne in the oven, and my only nod to health was to slip in some whole wheat noodles, don’t tell Mike. He thinks they are of the devil but never notices.
Hey though, if you have a beautiful cabin with a stunning view, and a bunch of dogs that just want to lay adoringly at your feet as you sit on the deck and enjoy your drink and a book, what do you do?
Folks do let their dogs run loose around here, but we’ve heard enough stories about dogs disappearing into the forest, only to pop up on the other side 2 years later (if you are lucky) to convince us.
I think my odds of running down a dog who finds a deer more interesting than me fairly low. Especially that little yellow guy – he’s a Boarder Collie mix, fast, and always into something.
A little extra weight an all, I love my sturdy little petite body.