Republic of Dirt Read Online Free PDF Page B

for a more high-profile sponsor such as Eminem or Robert Downey Jr.
    In addition to desiring all women over twenty, I’m also concerned about Sara. Since she moved in with us she hasn’t brought home any little friends. I think she might be unpopular. That would just about fucking break my heart.
    Then there’s the parent-teacher notice on the fridge. I have no idea what the protocol is when you’re looking after a minor whose parents are total nonstarters. I presume
they’re
supposed to go to the interview. But will they know to ask the teacher if she has any friends? I saw the way they were eyeballing us at that farmers’ market. It’s like they don’t trust our judgment, which would be the biggest example of the pot calling the kettle scorched in kettle history. But they’re the parents and they can pull the plug on this child care arrangement at any time.
    In other last page news, the mule is kind of cool to look at, but I fail to see his purpose. I mean, if you want a creature to wreak destruction on your sporting and playground equipment, Lucky’s your man. If you want a beast of burden to pull your plow, then you might want to look elsewhere. At this point, Lucky is a thousand-pound tapeworm who hangs around looking like he could give a shit what anybody thinks.
    Oh no. Here comes Prudence. I just know she wants to talk about farm matters. Raised beds, mules, barns, what to do with all the remaining bottles of killer hot sauce.

Prudence
    A fter interviewing contractors for two days, I was beginning to doubt I’d find the right person. Sure, they all had that calm, competent air that people who build things cultivate. They were all broad-shouldered and square-jawed, even the lone woman I spoke with. I would have chosen her, too, because I think there should be more women in the trades, but her quote was too high. All the quotes were too high.
    “You want steak on a bologna budget,” said Seth. “I understand because I want bologna on no budget.”
    “Just let me handle it,” I said, as I prepared a delicious dinner of baked butternut squash, assorted dark greens and quinoa. I am normally energized by the dish, but I felt full and exhausted by the time I’d finished half my bowl. I’ve been gaining weight recently, so that was just as well.
    “I liked that woman you talked to,” he said. “She had a really nice truck.”
    “Her quote suggested that she has big payments on it.”
    “Why don’t you ask Eustace? He could do it himself. On a Saturday afternoon. With one arm in a sling and a blindfold on.”
    I paid no attention to Seth, who is uninterested in the power of independence. “Have you ever tried squash hummus?” I asked.
    “No, thank Christ.”
    I hoped that I’d distracted him enough that he wouldn’t remember to tell Eustace that the quotes came in higher than we could afford. Until I learned basic construction skills myself, I should at least be able to hire someone to help out. Self-reliance is a core value of mine. Well, that and teamwork.
    At risk of revealing myself to be psychologically predictable, I’m the product of parents who
(a)
sent me away to boarding school when I was eight so they could focus on their golf games, and
(b)
died when I was twelve. From them I learned that people in general and women in particular need to take responsibility for themselves. Becoming an orphan at an early age taught me that organization and productive activity bring pleasure, as do list-making and crossing items off lists.
    I have never allowed my boyfriends to do things for me that I can do for myself. Just because I’m running a small but labor-intensive farm doesn’t mean I’m going to change. I dated a junior hedge fund manager before I left New York. Leo wanted to get access to my (extremely modest) trust fund in order to make it grow. Not three months after I declined, the market imploded and Leo was one of the few Wall Street guys to lose his job. See? Self-reliance is the