Steps.

Finished digging out the pathway yesterday, which was not quite as exciting as it was on Saturday, since Saturday's efforts included going after exposed roots with a chainsaw(!). Since the new path is considerably lower than the level of the front yard, I asked Cheryl what she wanted done with the discontinuity; a little ramp? Steps? Steps. I fashioned two cute little dirt steps using some old bricks as retaining walls for them. I only meant for the bricks to be temporary, proof-of-concept, but I'm really happy with the way it looks and I hope they keep them.

My parents stopped by yesterday. Cheryl had meant to mention the possibility that they might, but it kept slipping her mind. My mother managed to make me depressed and irritable within minutes with a single off-hand comment. Clearly, I haven't gotten far enough out of town. Had an interesting and useful conversation with Cheryl, though, after they left, about the ways Mom sabotages me. It's interesting to know that that's not just my perception.

Enough about that. After finishing the path -- well, the digging part, there's still weed-block to lay in place and stepping stones and gravel -- the rest of my work day was spent moving the mountain of dirt I've created to somewhere more useful, after sifting out the rocks so we can use them. All in all, a lot of shoveling. I notice I can barely lift my coffee cup this morning. No, seriously.

I'm off to shower, get dressed, and walk downtown. I want to see what it's like in the daytime, and check out the comics store.

Reconnaissance.

I am pleased to report that Olympia shows signs of intelligent life.

Although the downtown core is small enough to casually cross on foot, it seems to contain pretty much everything I consider essential for life; used bookstores, teriyaki joints, antique stores. Shop windows blossom with flyers for a vibrant local culture -- bands looking for members, recording studios offering cheap rates, people looking for roommates, auditions, upcoming plays and political rallies. Oddly, I saw no used record shops, but there must be some somewhere. It's just that kind of place.

The local comics stores is called The Danger Room, and frankly, that's the best goddamn name for a comics store I've ever heard. Not just for the obvious X-Men reference, mind you, but for the implication that comics themselves are inherently edgy and subversive. The store itself is really nice, too -- clean, bright and open, situated on a corner that gets a lot of foot traffic, friendly staff, and get this -- their stock is mostly organized by genre, making it easy for a brand-new comics reader to walk in and find something they might like. This makes sense and almost no one does it. Most stores just arrange everything alphabetically, or divides by publisher. Can you imagine someone walking into a bookstore and saying, "Excuse me, where are your Bantam novels?"

Had lunch at the same little Japanese restaurant Cheryl and Bill took me to Saturday night. I wanted to be a little more adventurous, but I kept thinking about the bite I'd had of Cheryl's tonkatsu and wanted some of my own.

The walk down the hill to downtown had been pleasant; the walk back up the hill, in the heat of the the afternoon, was nothing short of torturous. I'm inside now -- their guest room is, thank gods, the coolest room of the house -- and am drinking ice-cool Vanilla Coke and putting off doing any yardwork.

I still want to write. Don't know what. Every idea I have sounds like something I don't want to tackle just yet. Several disparate short story ideas collided in my head this morning and seem to be coalescing into a fairly audacious novel. I really don't know if I want to start on that.

Arms.

Well, no work today.

I went outside a while after I made my last post and tried to get back to shoveling. I just couldn't manage. My forearms hurt too much, didn't want to support the weight of the shovel and the dirt, so I gave up.

I hope the muscles are just tired, not injured. Cheryl seems to think that's all that's wrong, anyway.

Today wasn't entirely unproductive, but close. I did do some research and take some notes for a story idea that's struck my fancy, though. It's an idea I thought about a long time ago -- 1996 or thereabouts -- and I have no idea what brought it to mind now. Maybe I'll actually start writing it soon.