schlep

schlep or schlepp also shlep (shlĕp) Slang.

v., schlepped or schlepped also shlepped, schlep·ping or schlepp·ing shlep·ping, schleps or schlepps shleps.

v.tr.

To carry clumsily or with difficulty; lug: schlepped a shopping bag around town.

v.intr.

To move slowly or laboriously: schlepped around with the twins in a stroller.

n.

An arduous journey.
A clumsy or stupid person.

[Yiddish shlepn, to drag, pull, from Middle Low German slēpen.]

It is the season of the schlep. Yesterday was excessive, primarily concerned with the toting of large rocks, placing said rocks into something approximating a stone wall, pawing and muscling firewood, then dragging a mildly stunned four-year old up a muddy, rocky trail in the dark. For miles.

And now, for some odd reason that I can't place, I've no heart for the six miles that need to be run today. Yet, I must.

The firewood is my least favorite part of the winter. We love the woodstove for the almost free heat it brings in these times of expensive hydrocarbons (peak oil!), but the schlepping, feeding, and sweeping, oh my. I discovered that my attempts to keep the stuff dry provided a summer home for a Sodding Mouse; a nest complete with various chewings and excretions, each a vision of hanta virus, right in my own yard. And before you run off to the Brittanica to learn about the Virginia Sodding Mouse, I confess my love for all things Anglo including the slang.

Saturday night was an ankle-twisting "Halloween Safari" given (well, we paid $15 for three of us) by the Friends of Bull Run/Bull Run Mountain Conservancy. After eschewing the fire-scorched marshmallows, the kids hiked up the mountain and were occasionally entertained by people dressed in costumes of local critters. The mockingbird and the bobcat (Now! With Extra Vermont Accent Goodness!) were crowd pleasers. Somewhere around the half-way point, it turned into some sort of cruel trick: Ha-ha, we have you now! Jaw clenched, silent, and determined, we escaped. Never a more luxurious feeling than dropping into the seat of the Subaru.

The evening finished, warmed by woodstove, soothed by Sam Adams, and entertained by the Lileks archives. I couldn't last until the time change, like an old man on New Year's Eve, so we greeted it in the morning light, already doing the calculations, "but it's really 9:30, instead of 10:30".

Spring forward, Fall back.