The Horny-Handed Sons of Toil

Man I enjoy Big Bear so much, maybe a little too much.  I just came up kind of last minute this weekend to do some studying and to help my pops with some house work.  In Long Beach we have a room mate moving out and another moving in so I figured that our house would not exactly be very good study habitat.  It is so nice to wake up to hear birds and, nothing else really.  The morning air is crisp and cool.  Grab some coffee and put on my boots and go shovel hundreds of pounds of decomposed granite for dad.  I enjoy working outside and working hard.  When it gets really sunny and hot we break for a few beers in the shade of the fruit tree.  We talk about how good the beer is and where my dad heard about it.  We talk about what we are going to do next and how to go about it.  We talk about putting in a new horseshoe pit.  We talk about absolutely nothing and just exist.  You sit a certain way after you have been shoveling dirt for the last four hours straight.  You wear your hat a certain way and you squint out over your work and nod.  The dog comes up to me to enjoy the break as well taking advantage of our distracted attention to get some of her own.  She knows that we all feel great about being out there and being dusty and sweaty with our backs sore and our arms and necks sunburnt.  I pat her on her shoulder harder that usual with my gloves still on making big dust plumes every time.  It is a different kind of affection and she knows it.  It makes her feel like a real dog.  She feels accepted so she too looks out over our work and gives her approval.  Today I did not put on a smile for a rude yuppy, I did not get honked at or called names by passing cars while riding my bike to work, I did not worry if what I was wearing would attract women that I don't really want anything to do with,  I did not wake up to the sound of traffic or construction and I did not go to sleep to the sound of meth addicts yelling at each other or police sirens.