Apr 3, 2023·edited Apr 3, 2023Liked by Susan Campbell
Yay for getting that done! I get it about seeing the fruits of your labor. That pleasure for me comes after thoroughly cleaning the kitchen. Take pride wherever we can, right?
Right. All my life, I've not-had physical jobs, where you can look behind you and see the row you hoed. Yardwork, housework, all that kind of stuff can be really meditative (even while I bow in the general direction of people who do physical labor for a living; I cannot imagine the toll that takes).
I cannot imagine and I don't want to sound so precious as to pretend this isn't hard work when it's your life's work. I think if I had to stack wood all day, every day, I'd be about three inches shorter and a lot less able to crawl out of bed.
Omg the decades of having to deal with male persons who wanted to take over tasks I was doing quite competently-- often wanting in a snarling way that expressed their feeling that They Were Compelled Oh My God She's Being a Woman In Public What a Burden to Me.
One of the things I like about our forever house is that the property is large enough so that I can work outside without people Watching me, nearly all the time.
I remember having to change a tire in my old workplace's parking lot. I loved the two slightly older than me guys who hung around watching. They really wanted to help. I know that. But they also knew that I had this covered and we all had a nice chat.
Yeah. Me, too, to be honest, but I knew these folks and I knew their hearts were pure and they thought enough to stuff their hands in their pockets and kept me company.
I get So Tired of Explaining, and still more anymore and more go being required to satisfy Male Authority because gosh darn they were brought up to believe that they represent the universe.
Oh, I didn't explain. I said, "I am doing this," and they respectfully stood off to the side. It was new for them. I was maybe in my early 30s and they were in their mid-50s and I figured they wanted to help but I didn't need help, and the fact that they respected that pleased me greatly.
Just made a ginormous mess in our temp places kitchen making a batch of fricking no oil, low-salt, whole wheat pastry flour biscuits. Took me some time to clean up. I ran out of applesauce and mashed up some bananas instead. They are now called my banana biscuits not worth their weight in flour. Good thing is: my husband eats anything! Me? Nah, and I trashed mine! But still, it is so satisfying to mess up, recover, and do it again! Just bought a house on hill! Wood pile looms!
Right? I love house-cleaning and yard-raking and all that. I love making messes in the kitchen and it almost doesn't matter if the stuff tastes good. I DID that.
I made rolls for Easter once that were hard enough to crack walnuts. I brought one to the gathering just so we could all enjoy my creation -- though not by actually eating it.
Isn't it grand? I feel that way when I make good bread, or see a little tree I planted leaf-out, or realize something unacknowledged about myself. Life is good.
Yay for getting that done! I get it about seeing the fruits of your labor. That pleasure for me comes after thoroughly cleaning the kitchen. Take pride wherever we can, right?
Right. All my life, I've not-had physical jobs, where you can look behind you and see the row you hoed. Yardwork, housework, all that kind of stuff can be really meditative (even while I bow in the general direction of people who do physical labor for a living; I cannot imagine the toll that takes).
Toll is right. During my cult life years, I cleaned houses for a living. Good thing I was much younger then, but still...
I cannot imagine and I don't want to sound so precious as to pretend this isn't hard work when it's your life's work. I think if I had to stack wood all day, every day, I'd be about three inches shorter and a lot less able to crawl out of bed.
Nice work! You just get stuff done. And if you've never done it before, you figure it out. You're a figure out-er, get stuff done woman.
We have to shorten that for the t-shirt I'm having made for myself, but thank you!
Nothing quite like working with morning wood
I'm giggling.
Omg the decades of having to deal with male persons who wanted to take over tasks I was doing quite competently-- often wanting in a snarling way that expressed their feeling that They Were Compelled Oh My God She's Being a Woman In Public What a Burden to Me.
One of the things I like about our forever house is that the property is large enough so that I can work outside without people Watching me, nearly all the time.
I remember having to change a tire in my old workplace's parking lot. I loved the two slightly older than me guys who hung around watching. They really wanted to help. I know that. But they also knew that I had this covered and we all had a nice chat.
You are a much better person than I (but we knew that). I Just Want To Be Left To It.
Yeah. Me, too, to be honest, but I knew these folks and I knew their hearts were pure and they thought enough to stuff their hands in their pockets and kept me company.
I get So Tired of Explaining, and still more anymore and more go being required to satisfy Male Authority because gosh darn they were brought up to believe that they represent the universe.
So I admire you greatly.
Oh, I didn't explain. I said, "I am doing this," and they respectfully stood off to the side. It was new for them. I was maybe in my early 30s and they were in their mid-50s and I figured they wanted to help but I didn't need help, and the fact that they respected that pleased me greatly.
(mournfully) You still had to plead it. In my overly bruised analytically feelings. Minimally, but distinctly.
I laughed at “wood guy”. Under “W” in my contact list is “Wood Guy, Karl” like it’s his last name.
I have Wood Guy, Mike, and Plumber, Pete. I do think of them as more than that, but it helps keeps me organized.
Kudos for tackling a tough job! One task at a time. One foot in front of the other.
PREcisely!
Just made a ginormous mess in our temp places kitchen making a batch of fricking no oil, low-salt, whole wheat pastry flour biscuits. Took me some time to clean up. I ran out of applesauce and mashed up some bananas instead. They are now called my banana biscuits not worth their weight in flour. Good thing is: my husband eats anything! Me? Nah, and I trashed mine! But still, it is so satisfying to mess up, recover, and do it again! Just bought a house on hill! Wood pile looms!
Right? I love house-cleaning and yard-raking and all that. I love making messes in the kitchen and it almost doesn't matter if the stuff tastes good. I DID that.
Yup! Man, those biscuits were ant bait!
I made rolls for Easter once that were hard enough to crack walnuts. I brought one to the gathering just so we could all enjoy my creation -- though not by actually eating it.
Cool.
Isn't it grand? I feel that way when I make good bread, or see a little tree I planted leaf-out, or realize something unacknowledged about myself. Life is good.
ExACTly. Making bread has that same effect on me. Look what I did!
That's allowed. I'm a tall 5'9" and if I can't lift something, I just drop it and walk away. Fuck it.