Come mow with me

Whoa. Seriously I would have typed this blog post on Saturday but I couldn't lift my arms. I MOWED THE LAWN. Alright alright, I know it's not a great physical accomplishment like winning 8 gold medals or anything but... umm it was really freaking hot and hard. Since Kris is still recovering and we had guests arriving, the task of mowing the lawn fell to me. Which I actually accepted willingly, looking forward to working myself out over half an acre. Little did I know. It was at least the hottest day of the year, the sun was blazing and it was twelve noon. There were several casualties including:
1 sprinkler head
some weed control garden fabric
the invisible fence wire
So, I guess this could be considered a minimally effective endeavor, the yard is crisply neat but I had to come inside three times, "Honey.... I think I fucked up bad" Kris: "WHAT NOW?!"
However, I do think the neighbors were glad to have a brief respite from Kris' weekly serenade of Katmandu: "K-k-k-k-k-katmanduuuuu!"
They were instead relieved to learn that "I don't need no G to take care of me..." and when little Michael told me to "Shake it shake it baby hoo hoo"- I did- so they may or may not have enjoyed that. And I may or may not have violated some obsecenity laws in Chatham County (with the dancing not the lyrics.) But you can drive with a drink in the car as long as you're not drunk, so who knows how they really feel about jazzercize lawn dancing.
I had to stop three times, again it was 100 degrees, and I even managed to yell (at Kris) "I'm having a heart attack!" BTW- you will not be taken seriously should you try the same thing, apparently you can't yell during the throes of cardiac arrest. But it was great to really get my blood moving and I felt the old athlete stir inside again, because, umm, I'm basically the John Daly of Dance.