Category: Daily Life

To overshare or to fall off the grid?

Great success or enormous failure?

One way or another, this year is going to be vastly different than years past.

Nothing is so lonely as being an adult.

Decided on a trip to the VA Creeper. Planned a scout meeting. Flooded a house. Cleaned a house. Flooded it again. Programmed. Replaced two shutoff valves with ball valves. Continued my pursuit to learn how to grow food inside. Documented issues for a client. Hung out with a dozen, half-naked cool people. Played with fire. Knocked holes in the drywall. Gutted a fandangled washing machine. Visited Home Depot 3 times and Lowe’s once. Made my first ever Aldi purchase. Dwelt with some personal politics. Read a book with my son. Programmed some more. Killed a hornets’ nest. Balanced books. Created invoices. And cooked meals for a week.

Typical.

https://www.pandora.com/artist/awolnation/megalithic-symphony-deluxe/sail/TRjkh4ktXc62XVP

A productive weekend was had. I slipped in some home improvement. The weather was beautiful. I really wanted to clean out the garage and repair the garage door but that wasn’t in the picture. Too much client work to be had. And I did get a lot of client work done but so much more remains. I wish I could have a few more days in this weekend. I am tired but need to go at it for a few more hours.

And then when you finally gain the courage to wear appropriate spandex attire for your yoga class, a co-worker shows up.

Why don’t I own a ukelele?!

At no point in my childhood did I ever answer the question, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" with "Work three jobs to barely make ends meet." I also did not answer, “When I am 49-years old, I hope to be still trying to answer that question."

Step 1: Locate a time machine
Step 2: …

Went mountain biking yesterday at Baker Creek. Messing around on the pump track (you are supposed to be able to go around it completely without pedaling) and pushed too close to the edge going over into the brush. The bike decided this was a bad idea and it didn’t want to go into the brush so it stopped cold and flung me over the handlebars where I tried to stop the ground with my forehead (mostly helmet). As I lay on the slope on my back with my head down and feet elevated skyward, my first thoughts were, “Is the neck broken?” Twenty years ago, I would have sprung back onto the track with a prideful, “Meant to that!” This time I couldn’t help but feel the kudzu, poison ivy, and brambles enveloping me compassionately as if they were going to support me as they dragged me into the underworld. After answering the adults that I was okay, my son rode over and offered his assistance to me. I really have to teach that boy to say, “Sanka, are ya dead mon?” So that I can reply, “Ya mon, I’m dead.”

Now, my son gets home and tells the story. “Dad was going around the track then all of a sudden he just disappeared. Everyone was laughing and finally asked, ‘Are you okay?’ and we barely hear Dad reply, ‘I’m good.’ So I ride over to him and he’s just laying there like a dead body.”

This morning, Cathy and Evan are talking about how his scratches have improved and she says, “Dad somehow looks worse.” To which Evan replies, “Well, that’s what happens when you die.”

Today, I am a little tender particularly in my shoulders. Perhaps half an inch shorter. And range of motion in my neck is reduced. To look 90 degrees to my left or right results in protest from my body.

I am ready to ride again!