Manual labor.

Ow ow ow. Spent yesterday afternoon at the lair of the little beast, shoveling dirt and spreading mulch. My back and shoulders and arms are aching, in a painful-yet-good way. Me and Papa Beast had just finished leveling the dirt at the cliff edge when the thunder rolled in and the sky opened up. I stayed outside; the sound of rain coming down in the forest is wonderful, it sounds deeply organic. I think it's the way the raindrops hit the leaves on the trees, the grass and the bushes. In the city, rain messes up your commute, gets your clothes all damp, makes it so you can't each lunch outside. In a forest, you realize what rain is really for.

Two martinis, red-wine-and-shoyu-marinated steak tips on toasted couscous, and a bottle of Grenache-Shiraz-Mourvedre later, CouplingChaos and I are watching that Queer Eye For The Straight Guy show everyone's been talking about. It's pretty cool. I assert that Damiel, Subatomic Satan and I could do that show, but even better. Except we're not gay.

No, really!