Eat to Live, But Enjoy It

Yes, I have been gaining weight. I sit far too much these days (and spend far too much time at this computer and on this blog.) I've developed plantar fascitis in my feet and it makes walking uncomfortable, so my usual very active lifestyle has been impaired.

Yesterday my husband very innocently asked me if I was over 200 pounds. He is a wonderful loving person and does not realize the implication of his question in psychical pain. Let me explain - I am under five foot two and would have to gain quite a bit of weight to reach the magic 200 point (Let me just add here that I don't have any problem with people being over 200 pounds or overweight - but I really want to lose weight so I don't have to have knee surgery or diabetes like my mother.) The point is I have been struggling with my weight and my husband has vastly overestimated the degree of obesity in which I have enveloped myself.

You can see that I love to complain, but there are times when the world around me administers a gentle dope slap to remind me that I am indeed very fortunate and a little poundage here or (and) there does not a nuclear holocaust make. In fact everything around me speaks of peacefulness and calm. I live in a rural area and work at a college campus in the midst of the woods. Not only did I see wild turkeys on my way to work yesterday, but also some other wonderfully harmonic scenes. I am not always as quick with the camera as I would like and only got this next image from a considerable distance.



Here is a slightly closer detail:



Yes, it was a mother deer with a faun that couldn't be more than a few weeks old. The father is grazing watchfully on the right.

At the moment, our campus is full of visitors that put ripples in the tranquility of the place: Parents wanting to see where their children will be coming to school, visiting scholars for conferences, first year students being oriented. As I passed one of the many immaculately groomed flower beds, something out of place caught my eye. Nothing seemed to move, but as I focused my eyes I noticed a slight oscillation:



Indeed, it was an ear twitch and a masticating jaw line.



At first I thought he must be yet another incursion from beyond, yet no one around me seemed even to notice his presence. I thought ruefully about the beautiful flowers that were no doubt being decimated by this mangy pest and wondered if I should seek legal intervention against this blatant floral pillaging. It also occurred to me that the University should consider using this marauder's image as a marketing ploy, emblazoning his image on a poster stating: "Everyone's welcome here!" That would be more typical of the compassion showed by the monastery that is my employer.

Then I took a closer look at what the invisible invader was eating:



It was clover! I would not need to alert the legal authorities, and would not have the guilt of a leporidic soul on my karmic balancesheet. The flowers would be unassaulted, the garden would remain lovely and inviting for the guests. I was pleased to know this little secret and may have slightly winked in the bunnie's direction as he turned and headed for home. I'm not sure, but I think he returned a wave of his tail as he disappeared into the brush.