--- Captain's Update ---

It appears that through courting, it is expected of me to perform moderate to heavy labor for the family of my intended.

I am not sure how this custom was established, or how far back it goes, but it seems to be heavily bred into "The Southern Hospitality" vein.

Years of training in the wilds of Australia have made me physically prepared. But my spirit is less than willing. Especially considering I am used to this being my winter and yet I am thrown into the other side of the globe's summer after just surviving my own.

I am not sure I will acclimate.

Or survive.

This mission, if I chose to accept it, is to remove a crumbling pebble floor. It appears that it was never installed and sealed properly to begin with. With every step, small stones embed themselves into your feet and cause all manner of interesting local colloquials to spill forth.

Every step sounds like a miniature landslide as rubble dislodges from your sweat laden feet. Truly, it is time to be done.

However, the tools on hand are as follows:

• A shovel
• A hatchet
• A hammer

Perhaps a hammer is the tool for every job?

The second task set upon me is to help assemble a small outdoor building. This "shed" is to house the tools that.. they do not have?

And a lawnmower.

The 84-kilo package is due to arrive at "high noon". Unfortunately, the "high" before noon isn't the pleasant definition I had hoped for.

The assembly of this building will have multiple steps, including creating some kind of floor by gathering bricks scattered across the property and hidden in overgrown bushes.

The shed claims that it is "easily assembled". This, I highly doubt. There is no structure on earth that is easy to assemble in the midday sun.

I was told that there will be beer. I would prefer a cider, but since beer is the main staple in the drinking culture here, I may have to partake. I believe that nevertheless, it will taste refreshing in the heat.

I am sure pitchers of tea and lemonade will also be brought out. I have seen this in films depicting the south and they seem to hold true. There is never a day that passes without sweet tea being made.

I am still confused by this cold tea that lacks all flavor save for that of sugar.

But to reject it seems to be almost a criminal offense.

I was also just handed a kilo of something called "puppy chow". It does have the appearance of dry dog food. I am not sure if it is meant for me or the livestock. It appears as though the mother figure wants me to eat it. Is this a hazing? Some sort of initiation ritual? I am unsure but it smells good.

Fueled by sugar and beer, I am sure that this mission will pass swiftly.

Or at least, I hope.

Photographic updates to follow if I do not die of diabetes or a heatstroke.