Brent and I have very different approaches to problems. Surprisingly, I tend to be the one in favor of brute force and hard work. I guess it’s only surprising until I say that his approach comes down to something like “more tools better.” Despite the advice of friends, we did not have to rent a dump truck, a cement mixer, a Bobcat, or any other large machinery. I didn’t unload the truckload of dirt bags myself, although I could have, if I had a stool to get up in the thing (note to self: taller in next life). T.R. and I did the dirt mixing and moss-mushing with actual shovels. I lifted bags of dirt my own self. We were both filthy at the end.
So naturally, we went swimming. T. has his cast off and you have not seen such joy. He has four weeks of the giant Velcro Frankenfoot, but he can take it off to sleep and to swim. I’m heavily encouraging the swimming, both because he loves it and because it is good for him, a safe environment to rebuild his muscles while being supported by the water. Oh, yeah, and he smells like chlorine and not sweat at the end. Did I mention there’s a hot tub at the gym, too?
Next up: plants for the dirt, and more swimming.