To Do's and Not To Do's

On today's To-Do List:

1. Gather at least 5 potential sources for a paper in biology lab.
2. Fold laundry.
3. Study for calculus test (TUESDAY!!)
4. Prepare for labs next week.
5. Walk the dog -- EXERCISE!!
6. Church tonight.
7. Prepare to teach Sunday.

But for now I choose to focus a bit on #5. Copper the dog is jonesing for a walk, and I will soon oblige him. He's part beagle, part bloodhound, all cute and loving! He's the kind of dog that will ferociously protect our family from invading frogs and cats, but lick robbers to death. And while beagles have a genetic disposition to run away, Copper seems to have (finally) overcome it and just waits for us at the gate. But put him on a leash, and look out!

The beagle part battles the bloodhound part on our walks. He gets so excited that he pulls on the leash, forging ahead as fast as the owner on the other end will let him. I decided at one time that Copper is a sprint-interval doggie; he likes to run all-out for 1-2 minutes, and then walk the same amount of time, for about 4-6 cycles. Which works well for me, since I like to do that, too. Copper's little body seems to be made mostly of fast-twitch muscle fibers, which give him a lot of power and speed for about 1/2 mile (maybe a bit more) but leave him breathless and helpless for long-distance walks. Once, he actually sat down before we got to the last mile of a 3-mile walk and refused to go further. I felt the need to carry him, he was panting so hard! Needless to say, a marathon is definitely not on Copper's to-do list.

There are other times, though, when the beagle of the beast seems to be (mostly) in check, and the bloodhound takes over. Those are the times that Copper resembles a canine vacuum cleaner. As soon as we hit the sidewalk, his nose is to the ground, sniffing after any trail he can pick up. Yet even then, the beagle creeps back in; while his front half is busy sniffing, his back half gets antsy, so he ends up walking sort of sideways as his hindquarters try to overtake and pass the front end.

We adopted Copper a couple of years ago on spring break. Prior to that I had relaxed my no-pets policy and gave in to the boys' requests for mice. We were at Petsmart to buy mouse food for Runner and Boomerang (neither of which are still with us, may they rest in peace) when we met Copper. He was in the PAWS pen in front of the store, wrestling with another dog, when he sniffed Luke out and commenced to making friends and stealing hearts. Luke was afraid of dogs -- deathly afraid -- since he was barely walking. Yet Luke fell for Copper. We would've gone on about our day without adding a dog to our family had Luke not put his foot down and said, "I'm not leaving without that dog!"

So we left Petsmart with mouse food, dog food, other various and sundry dogcare accessories and information, and a dog -- and with wallets about $300 lighter. Today, Luke plays with Copper occasionally, but he mostly waves to him as he walks past him toward his Legos. *sigh* But Copper has gained a family that feeds him and loves him, and Wes and I have gained a new walk/run partner.

On our walk/runs, Copper sniffs and marks, and I observe and admire my neighbor's landscaping prowess. We lovingly call our neighborhood "Pleasantville." It's deliberately designed to look like a scene from Leave it to Beaver. Only I don't wear pumps and pearls while vacuuming (or walking the dog) like June Cleaver.

There are some gorgeous yards in this subdivision! So many different colors and varieties of blooms and bushes and vines and trees, so many shapes of leaves and perfectly-coiffed lawns of full and fluffy green grass. Perfectly sparkling white picket fences surround family getaways in the back yards of these perfect houses, marking where perfect families reside. I find myself planning what I want to do with my landscaping, getting ideas from my neighbors, while I'm out exercising my body. I lapse into a bit of a dream state occasionally, visualizing a perfectly level back yard behind my house, complete with a great deck or rocked-in patio, topped by a canopy garden lights strung between the shade trees that sparkle in the twilight while we entertain. The scent of jasmine wafts on the breeze from vines covering the fences. Colors converge from various flowering bushes, perfectly pruned and arrayed. Tiki torches and lanterns light paths encircling the little garden patches, leading to a bench here, an arbor there...

Suddenly I'm ripped out of my reverie by a reminder of my to-do list:

1. Gather at least 5 potential sources for a paper in biology lab.
2. Fold laundry.
3. Study for calculus test (TUESDAY!!)
4. Prepare for labs next week...

And I shake it off, and return to my reality with a sigh.

Before I started school I had a pretty nice yard. It wasn't perfect, because I'm not a perfect gardener. Our home is only about eight years old, and we started from scratch in our yard. I have a short-sighted tendency to plant things too closely because the bed looks too sparse when the plants are first put in; next thing ya know, they're crowding each other and fighting for food and root space. At any rate, I began well, and we had a pretty nice look going. There was color in the front yard, with rows of white brick circling several flowerbeds. There was symmetry in the back yard, and while I wanted vines to line the fences and grow up lattices against the garage, I at least had a start with sage, boxwoods, and lantana in a variety of shades. Plans were made for planting more trees, and possibly a small kitchen garden.

Then the nudging on to higher education came; my yard has suffered ever since.

Copper and I return from our walks, tired yet invigorated, to a yard that sometimes grows more weeds than grass, complete with patches where nothing grows at all, and flowerbeds that grow more grass than flowers. He doesn't care -- he just wants to lie down after a long drink from the water bowl. But I have to put on blinders, because I know that my priority is research and homework, not gardening. What little time is left after that will go to laundry and dinner.

The unfortunate truth is there are only 24 short hours in everyone's day. Only so much can be crammed into those limited hours. This is a universal truth that nobody escapes. I feel at times that I have enough responsibilities to fill at least 30 hours on most days, when they're all piled up together in a big heap on my to-do list. Some days, my to-do list looks more like a dream list -- the list compiled of all the things I want to do, I wish to do, I dream to do. Only I dream of boring things like yardwork, while others dream of travel and shopping. But my list still looks dreamy (full of things that'll only get done in my dreams) especially when viewed in the light of what has to be done to prepare for tomorrow's classes or this week's tests or Nathan's band trip next week or Luke's chess tournament in a few days...

So I choose to neglect my yard. I'm sure my neighborhood association will not approve, and they may even send me a letter just so I'll know exactly how much they disapprove and on what grounds. It'll go in the pile of mail, along with the other low-priority stuff that will not get my attention today. I have to set priorities when so many things are screaming for my attention; at this stage in the game, school (and exercise -- why neglect my own health while endeavoring to become a healthcare practitioner?!) trumps yardwork.

And regardless of what my neighbors think, Copper still loves me.