Or, what I did this weekend.
I did gardening yesterday. It was nice to get some raised beds started to cover up the
burn marks Brian made in attempts to control the moss by using baking soda bald areas in the lawn. The sweet onions and the hardier herbs in the ground, with some tomato and pepper plants started in their places in my makeshift greenhouse downstairs. All the while, I started up the first book in the Game of Thrones audioseries, A Song of Ice and Fire. Unlike The Omen Machine by Terry Goodkind, Song starts off with an interesting bang and keeps the ball rolling without having to break for pages upon pages of repetition. Currently I’m on disc 9 of 28, but we’ll get there eventually. Anyway, it turned out to be great background noise as I worked, even dragging out the portable CD player that fell on my head about three months ago when I tried to get a blanket from out of the closet–but that’s another story–into the garden (that’s backyard for everyone else whom like to pick on me for being an Anglophile) so that I may listen to the story whilst tilling the soil. About an hour into working, I hear the laughter of the adorable three-year-old next door and realise, “Dude, I’m listening to The Game of flippin’ Thrones in my garden and I’m surrounded by young families with small children!”
And yes, I kept right on planting whilst Bran is eavesdropping on Cersei and Jaime. Seriously, it was that scene where Wayne Knight shouts out “Dawson! We have Dawson here!” in Jurassic Park. Although the neighbour with the fence fired up his table saw and the neighbour on the other side was hauling out his grill and talking animated with his brother/brother-in-law/bromantic partner (not certain which), I figured I really needed to finish up outside because, heh, the alternative would be Manowar’s Kings of Steel.
So it was back into the cellar, and there I worked on two kinds of tomatoes, peppers and (don’t tell Brian!) eggplants. After that, it was laundry, dishes, and tidying up the parlour whilst — wait for it! — ripping through (in the legal sense) two more discs. Then I proceeded to mend two shirts, a winter jacket, re-stuff and reupholster the footrest and armrests of my ancient arm chair I had inherited from Jenny’s parents, change over more laundry, rolled some fingering weight yarn into balls (if you must know, sock weight, one blue, one white–do the math) –good Primus on Gallifrey, I got a lot done!
Taking a break from the plight of the Starks (and wishing the Lannisters — with the exception of Tyrion, at least he’s interesting — would just spontaneously implode) I switched over to another, this one physical, book, as far from A Song as one could get: Ready Player One by Earnest Cline. Now there was a great, fun, fast read! It’s Snow Crash meets Little Brother X without the Unicron-sized infodumps, and more 80’s pop-culture references than the first season of Spaced. First of all, it revolves around the history of video games. Actual history. Deep history. It starts with the Atari 2600 game of Adventure and the very first Easter Egg in gaming history, and continued from there. It was clever, well-written, and kept my interest, perhaps because it played off of my own childhood. (Only one mention of Doctor Who, however, and a brief Transformers nod. Mostly it revolved around John Hughes flicks and shows I watched only because, hey, I was a child of the 80’s. We were glued to the boob tube.) A phenomenal, fast, at times nostalgic read; highly recommended.
Now, back to the grind. It could either involve my epic metal station on Last.FM or continuing A Song of Ice and Fire. Some may not see a difference.