My new obsession

Ever since Kathryn bragged to us several months ago that she (who never really liked exercising) is now addicted to exercising, I've thought, "I'd like to get there." Or at least to the point where I look forward to it, not just look back with relief when it's over.

I've been exercising consistently for the past two or three weeks. And lest you are concerned, no, I am not addicted to exercising. No threat of that anytime soon.

But I am developing an unusual enjoyment of weeding my garden.

Weeding was possibly the worst chore I had to do when I was a kid. Nothing like spending an hour on your knees on a 95-degree day in New Mexico, pulling weeds out of hard, rocky ground, with two older brothers to dish out a little emotional abuse as well. Lucky for me, we didn't have to do it very often.

Last summer I met bindweed, the nastiest weed ever, with miles of snake-like roots that snap under the slightest upward pressure, then shoot up new sprouts practically overnight. Our yard is infested with it. Solid clay instead of soil doesn't make the task any easier.

But the bindweed is not as prevalent this year (last year's battle is paying off just a bit), the soil is slowly getting better (after several hundred-dollars worth of compost), and the kids are crazier than ever. Yes, the real reason I love to weed is that it's as good as an hour of transcendental meditation or a long sauna session. Well, almost. I had Sammy & Riley help a little yesterday and they did their quota (yes, I'm being a good mom and showing them the value of WORK), but then they wandered inside to play with Grandma and Aunt Melissa. And I was left sweating in the sun, meditating on the significance of gardens, global crises, and what color to paint my toenails tonight. Thanks to those who gave me an hour of productive peace. I may have solved a few of the world's toughest problems out in my vegetable garden.

And the best part of all--pulling all those weeds out by the root is almost as satisfying as sqeezing a really great zit!