Labor Day. I figure that this holiday is meant to be one in which everyone works really, really hard, preferably doing something that needs doing around their place. If so, well Pete and I should each get gold stars for having honored this holiday.

The sun being out made all things possible. We were energized by the Vitamin D provided by the sun.

The day began with my picking peas and shucking them. Pete blanched them and then took them over to our freezer, which is at a neighbor’s house. He also made and dehydrated some meals for next summer’s trip.

I next cleaned the goat pen. I enjoy cleaning the goat pen because it makes the goats happy. Swampy has it in her to be mean. She’s had nothing to be mean about, so she now seems pretty content. I remember when I met her. She was in a pen with other goats. She was off to the side and looked very surly. I surmised that she’d be better in a smaller herd, and I was right.

Robert

Pete took several buckets and kitty litter containers full of goat bedding down to the compost station area, then we ate lunch.

We’d planned on going to the fair at 2:00 p.m. and putting books in the newspaper boxes. We got out of here at 4:00 p.m. This is usual for us. There are always more things to tend to here.

I worked for a while at the hotel and Pete went shopping. He came back with chocolate for me. Chocolate is for me, as coffee is for others. Today it gave me a much-needed kick in the pants.

Once at the fairgrounds, we loaded up the newspaper boxes, then went to Raven Hall where many vendors hang out. We ended up talking with several about the book project. It was reverse logic. They were supposed to be talking with us about their interests – we reversed the tide by talking with them about our interests.

We also headed to Raven Hall because I’d put in for a raffle drawing. The drawing took place at 6:00 p.m. I did not win the pig. I was going to find him a forever home. Another woman said if she won him, she’d have a party. I said for her to be sure and invite the pig.

After, Pete and I decided that rather than collect the boxes and books tomorrow, we’d collect them today. We parked as close as we could to each of the four boxes we were bringing home, and then loaded them into the truck. The last one was at the Mat-Su College vendor’s booth, a spacious cabin on the red trail. There, I ended up talking to a fellow named Shane while Pete moved the boxes and books into the truck.

Shane caught my attention by what he said, which (my words) that he bemoaned the fact that he was at one time in a more imaginative space than he is now. It was, he said, mainly obligations that have taken their toll. I said I understood what he was getting at, having given up my contemplative life for one that’s the complete opposite.

This is what I like about the book project – it opens conversational doors that might otherwise remain closed.

Next: 243. 9/5/23: High Anxiety