This morning I failed at an official test for my willingness to get up and run when my alarm went off and I saw drizzle and clouds but I did get up and get out of the miserable half hour of grogginess.
Fact: Jesse Horning is not a morning person. It's not like I haven't given it a fair go with getting up for crew and at other times of my life, it just makes me weary and grumpy. I need at least a half an hour to have coffee or breakfast, which usually turns into an hour because i'm worthless in the morning at doing anything, to just come out of a daze.That said, I'll be up and wide awake working or bored because everyone else has fallen asleep. Facts.
After Tracey and Glenn came in from the morning milking, Tracey made bacon and eggs. I love bacon. Not veggie bacon or turkey bacon as substitutes, just greasy, savory bacon. I'm a recovering vegetarian. Sort of. I do miss salad so I'm not a full on carnivore. Sorry, Mom.
I finished book number two in the last two days. #1 Don't Lets Go to the Dogs Tonight, Alexandra Fuller about growing up in Rhodesia around independence from British rule. #2 Who Can Be Against Us?, Pam & Graeme Smith on their time as missionaries in Ethiopia, Zaire and Papua New Guinea (PNG)for World Vision. I didn't like either. I've almost concluded to no longer read anything on the NYT best seller list because
A) I've found the American public is far to easily entertained by crappy writing (however, I'll admit, I hated the Twilight series but couldn't put them down)
B) The books are never any good. I added "Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight" to the list of best sellers I haven't liked including "The Shack", "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" and "The Life of Pi".
What are some books I do like?
- The Practical Guide to Ridding Your Head of Lice Forever and Always (not an actual book…)
- Evasive Maneuvers for the Sweet Blooded: How to Avoid Mosquito Bites (another of my fantasy books…)
Back to daily life, after breakfast Tracey and I hopped on the quad and moved hoses and herded cows. This means Tracey drove and I competed with Bella, the Staffordshire terrier, for space and was the paddock gatekeeper. All the while avoiding the occasionally hose spurting a bit of the cow shit that gets washed out after milking and pumped into tubes to fertilize the paddocks.
And then we ran out of gas. We walked home and even having been running every other day for a week or so, Tracey nearly put me to shame with her pace. This meant on the way back to the quad there was a few gallons of gas in front, Tracey, and me on the motorbike. My legs are pretty long- the same length as my brother's who is 6'2- and they get a real workout at the awkward angle of keeping my feet just off the ground.
After refilling the quad, I got another crash course in using it and to my complete and utter delight got to tell Bell to hop on the back and drive it back to the house.
Cut to going to Putaruru to drop off the motorbike to be fixed and having coffee and a freakin delicious blackberry/lemon/passionfruit crumble and my National Geographic fix, though I already read the issues last summer.
My hair is getting long and unfortunately is practically forming cracks and breaking to bits. Too much lice shampoo use and not enough trimming is my completely uneducated diagnosis.
New words I've learned:
Kiwi- togs/swim suit; suk/opposite of a man's man; naked (pronounced necked)/tired; sixteens/movie for 16+; ute/truck or utility vehicle
Nyanja- zikomo/thank you (I think!)
Afrikaans- kopje/hill, plateau
"I've been overseas in Canada and Scotland at university. The more I am away from the farm in Mkushi, the more I long for it. I fly home from university at least once a year, and when I step off the plane in Lusaka and that sweet, raw-onion, woodsmoke, acrid smell of Africa rushes into my face I want to weep for joy."
- p 243, Don't Lets Go to the Dog's Tonight
I think I'm eating a hawaiian pizza in sandwich form.
In the evening…
I did run, the farthest I have in ages in fact. And when milking the cows, I was putting the cups on some udders when the cow started to pee (and when they pee, it's like a hose on half power) and I winced and then kept putting them on and Glenn said, "Now you're a Kiwi girl!" By that point, I'd been kicked and had cow shit smeared up my arms.
For the second time today, I was delighted, though I didn't smell as nice as I did the first time. More on milking later. I'll tell you this: it's not the hay and bucket you imagine.