Sun vs. Fun
I admit I’m not the sun-worshipping kind. Oh, I love beautiful, sunny days. That is, as long as I’m in the shade, or looking out through a window while in air-conditioned comfort. I love walks on the beach—in the evening at dusk or later. You won’t find me sunbathing on the patio. Not me. No, I’m the one who becomes nauseated or develops a major headache if overheated.
This is why Jeanmarie (my critique partner) has been making good-natured fun of me. She knows all of this and how I dress when I mow my lawn. Let me say right here that I love to drive the riding mower over our yard. I don’t know why, but I do. Makes absolutely no difference that I’ve occasionally mown over one or two things I didn’t intend to—including my eyeglasses—I still love the job. The problem is, I can’t take sun exposure so I wear high-top shoes, jeans, and a knit T-shirt. Over the T-shirt, I wear my husband’s long-sleeved cast-off shirt, unbuttoned so the breeze catches it, and leather gloves that extend up over the shirt cuffs. On my head I wear a wide-brimmed hat that ties under my chin so it won’t blow off, and I wear one of those disposable face masks over my mouth and nose to cut down on inhaled dust and pollen. By the time I add my sunglasses, not much of me is visible, which is the point. No skin cancers for me, thank you very much.
When I first started venturing out into our yard looking like this, a couple of neighbors asked if my mom was visiting. Yes, I look weird, but I’m not dressing up for yard work. I guess I’m dressing down for it. That’s why Jeanmarie laughs when I say I mowed our lawn that day. She’s picturing me in my costume, which she insists should be a cartoon on my website. No, I don’t think so.
This is why Jeanmarie (my critique partner) has been making good-natured fun of me. She knows all of this and how I dress when I mow my lawn. Let me say right here that I love to drive the riding mower over our yard. I don’t know why, but I do. Makes absolutely no difference that I’ve occasionally mown over one or two things I didn’t intend to—including my eyeglasses—I still love the job. The problem is, I can’t take sun exposure so I wear high-top shoes, jeans, and a knit T-shirt. Over the T-shirt, I wear my husband’s long-sleeved cast-off shirt, unbuttoned so the breeze catches it, and leather gloves that extend up over the shirt cuffs. On my head I wear a wide-brimmed hat that ties under my chin so it won’t blow off, and I wear one of those disposable face masks over my mouth and nose to cut down on inhaled dust and pollen. By the time I add my sunglasses, not much of me is visible, which is the point. No skin cancers for me, thank you very much.
When I first started venturing out into our yard looking like this, a couple of neighbors asked if my mom was visiting. Yes, I look weird, but I’m not dressing up for yard work. I guess I’m dressing down for it. That’s why Jeanmarie laughs when I say I mowed our lawn that day. She’s picturing me in my costume, which she insists should be a cartoon on my website. No, I don’t think so.
