Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Chihuas don't mow grass


I am not sporty. My sister was a competitive diver. My brother, he’s all in: he once biked across Costa Rica in three days, in mud and rain, in a race, and finished.

When I was 10, I attempted to join my dad in a jog. He used to run marathons, and I tried to get the fever. I made it through one short run, that’s it. I do remember the baby blue velour Izod track suit. I felt cute.

So this summer I have taken it upon myself to use the reel mower in the yard as a meditative exercise. To trick myself into something that requires exertion, but has a dual purpose.

We have a small yard of weeds that I mow down. Why? I could easily become that neighbor who never cuts her yard and makes the neighbors edgy. But I do it for the brief surprise of tidiness, and so I can find the chihua poo easier.

This florid unruliness is July.

Georgie will sometimes watch me. Wren hides upstairs. Tiny Dog is in or out, depending on her mood and level of sun access. Atticus used to try to bite the mower’s wheels until I told him to quit it, and surprisingly, he did for once.

Georgie needs her toys outside in summer to sleep better. 

Mowing is still a challenge. I became easily dizzy in vet school after a likely virus mucked around in my vestibular, balance, apparatus in my skull. Before this illness, I thought about being a veterinary radiologist or pathologist, but after, I was reeling looking at CT scans in the dark and slides on the microscope. I had to adjust to my body’s restrictions and my new, frustrated expectations.

Things have improved in 10 years. I can now bike a couple of miles, and even stupidly got a longboard. Riding boats and swimming leaves me feeling like I am in a washing machine. I no longer go into box stores with their high ceilings and discombobulating lighting (no loss). I sit still more, but I have always preferred this.

So, in the spirit of contemplation, what are the metaphors inherent from this mowing activity?:
1. My limbs are scratched and itchy from the hops vines grabbing me as I passed by.
2. Bindweed vines are strangulating the flowers.
3. I don’t particularly like mowing.

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