Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Game Day
Started with a raising of the flag while the national anthem played…
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followed by a brief parade up and down the driveway. We have more kids than trailer space.
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Then the first event, the shoe kick. Here is the senior division in action.
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New this year was the ingenious set up for knocking off ping-pong balls with a water gun.
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.Water balloon toss is always a hit.
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There was the classic watermelon eating contest. No hands allowed!
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The last event was a water relay with swim, and paddle legs required. Here is the lap around the rafts.
Plan, Re-plan
This is what life is like sometimes. I am at the lake-place this morning, but I almost didn’t make the trip.
I woke up early yesterday, and quickly decided it would be to my advantage to get to the day-job early, with the goal of then being able to depart for our paradise sooner than the usual quitting time.
My work-place is overworked and currently understaffed. There is a lot of stress to be had, and I am well-practiced at feeling the burden of all that stress. We tend to make feeble stabs at creating a plan to address the issues currently dominating our operations, but actual solutions are hard to accomplish, and until we get past that hard part, the stress hangs as heavy as the heat and humidity that is oppressing our region lately.
I was making laudable progress on my to-do pile of tasks, and then received a whammy of a message from a customer, which put a big dent in my plans to get out early. In the moment of hopelessness, I called Cyndie to suggest she head to the lake without me. That would free me up to work all day, and open up Saturday for additional work-hours that might help me feel less stressed by the demands.
Since I wasn’t planning to work the full day, I hadn’t brought any lunch to eat. Cyndie would need to come up to get my car, so she offered to bring me a sandwich. I put my head down and dug in on a list of 163 items that needed analysis, line by line. The clock ticked, I worked, my stomach got ready for lunch.
When working a long list, or any long task, the beginning can seem daunting, but shortly after you start, it seems to gain in aspect, growing increasingly formidable. I went through that feeling of doom that we didn’t stand a chance of successfully accomplishing all that we need to do.
How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.
I just kept working away, and fell into a rhythm of progress. There is a psychological reward to reaching the half-way point, and I fed off of that. My lunch hour appeared, but Cyndie hadn’t arrived, so I stayed on task and began to challenge myself to keep after it until she showed up. On this day, I can be thankful for her methods of operation, because I ended up completing that task before she had even left the house.
I called to check on her status, and since she hadn’t left yet, was able to change my mind again and return to our original plan for departure to the lake. What a mental exercise the day turned out to be! I delegated a different chore that was on my list, delayed plans on another, and was able to head out only an hour and a half later than I had originally intended.
We were pleasantly greeted by comfortable temperatures and reduced humidity when we climbed out of the car at the lake. We arrived at our paradise in time for dinner.
This morning, it is time to prepare for the games of the day!
Goin’ Again
Goin’ to the lake again, today! I need to put in at least a half-day of work, and then we are off. Our lake community will celebrate Independence Day a little after-the-fact this summer, with tomorrow being our day of games, followed by the collective dinner.
I have revealed this image in my collection of bike-trip pictures, but for those who haven’t navigated to my photo album yet, I present it here for the occasion.
Dubious Reward
It is now July, and this is Monday, and I am back at work today after having stayed as long as possible yesterday at the lake with family and friends. Oh well. The weather at the lake was fantastic all weekend. It was hot (the sand on the beach, incredibly so), but that was no problem with the lake right there for instant comfort.
Now, being back in town, away from a lake, with a predicted week of hot, hot weather, I am REALLY missing the paradise of Big Round Lake. Many members of Cyndie’s family, and other friends in the community are staying up there for the coming week. Cyndie came home with me last night, but is looking into heading back up mid-week, without me. I will need to find my way up there again on Friday.
Looks like I brought a souvenir home with me from the past weekend. My first thought was, poison ivy, but this is just different enough to be mysterious. We are wondering about chiggers. Cyndie’s first hesitation was that no one else seems to be experiencing similar reaction, so why just me? Upon further consideration, I came up with one potential place of exposure where I walked that no one else did.
I helped inflate a new Rave Sports water tramp, and then carry it into the water. There are 4 handles distributed along the perimeter of the raft, and we walked it out across the dock by the boats. That meant that two people were on the dock, and two of us were in the water on either side. I walked through some grass and reeds into the lake to carry it far enough to slide it across the dock into the water, toward the beach side. My path took me through a route where nobody would otherwise be walking. I overcame my aversion to walking through the wild area, for the good of the project we were working to accomplish.
Apparently, I have been rewarded for my efforts, with some unwelcome guests. The red welts are just wonderful on top of the faint sunburn I also acquired over the hours of fun in the sun. This life of luxury is not without consequences.
Here is a wonderful blossom that was among the reeds and tall grasses through which I traipsed:
Yes, News
I’m feeling a little out of whack this morning. We are up at the lake, and just barely able to connect to the internet. And barely is just a little bit better than last night, when we had nothing at all, despite multiple attempts of resetting devices in hopes of breathing some life into our connection.
I could try to be brief, but you know me… The bits of bytes will catch up, sooner or later. I’ve got a story to tell.
Cyndie arrived from Boston, late on Thursday night, and we had plans to connect with our friends, Mike and Barb, on Friday, to head up to Wildwood to spend the weekend with Cyndie’s parents. That was all the incentive I needed to take a day off from work.
Of course, work is way too busy for such frivolity, but I didn’t let that stop me. (However, I realized last night that I forgot to set my away message on the work email account… so, I may face some repercussions for my absence! Oops.)
In preparation for our going away for the weekend, I mowed the lawn Thursday evening. That’s when I discovered the possible source for the poor feedback about the exterior of our property, from the latest showing that had occurred. The weeds had taken over the back side of our house, in and around the fallow garden beds. It looked sadly neglected.
I spent the morning, yesterday, pulling weeds and trimming our over growing ground cover, to make the place look, at the very least, like someone cares about it a little bit. Then, it was off to the lake. Been busy ever since. There has been a lot of socializing all of a sudden, for a guy who has been living alone.
Speaking of living alone, I finally received clearance to share the news that has been percolating, and sometimes spilling out, indirectly. Cyndie is resigning from her position in Boston.
She’s coming home!
Be careful what you wish for. Yes, I am excited. But, I must admit, I was getting used to this living alone routine.
In the mean time, this will make qualifying for a loan to buy the dream property a bit more difficult. Suddenly, I’m not so anxious to find a buyer for our current home. The plot is thickening.
I’m off to get a workout on the paddle boards! It looks like a picture-perfect day, so hopefully the internet connection will get fixed and I can upload some images, or something relative.
The Best
I recently discovered the concept of referencing the question of where you are from, by asking, “Where is your placenta buried?” I saw it in the article about Vanishing Languages in the latest issue of National Geographic Magazine.
“This is how the Seris ask, Where are you from? Those who were born before hospital births know the exact spot where their afterbirth was placed in the ground, covered in sand and ash, and topped with rocks.“
Mine was a hospital birth, I’m confident in saying. I don’t actually remember it, but I’ve seen pictures that provide pretty good evidence. One image depicts my mother, with two visiting friends gazing down at me (we think it’s me –I’m the 5th of 6 kids, so it could be a sibling), and the two ladies each have a cigarette cradled between two fingers.
It was a long time ago. These things happened back then.
My placenta didn’t get buried anywhere that I am aware of, but on this day, 53-years ago, I parted company from it and began breathing air. Ever since, I have considered myself as being from Eden Prairie, Minnesota.
One of my longest enduring friendships began in Eden Prairie, in 1st grade at the EP public school. Paul Keiski and I were born one day apart. His birthday was yesterday. He’s like an older brother. One day older.
We are both active, athletic guys, but you might not have guessed that would be the case if you saw us back then. We both have memories of having stayed inside during recess, to draw pictures of Batman, Robin, and the Batmobile. I’m sure we were way too naive to imagine our shared activity was laying a foundation for a life-long connection, but it was.
Yesterday, I received the best possible present from Paul. I had forgotten to acknowledge the occasion of his day with a birthday greeting, until an email arrived in my inbox, wishing me a happy birthday. Upon processing the thought that this greeting had arrived a day early, I was struck by the realization that it meant that it was Paul’s birthday! I sent him a note.
His wonderful reply followed shortly, ending with this closure: “Cheers on another year, your present is enclosed. -PK” and the attached image:
That’s just the absolute best!
Drama Continues
This is a continuation of yesterday’s post, “Rain Delay”
It was about 20 miles to the first scheduled pause that Thursday morning, a convenience store and gas station at a wide spot of the road called, Clam Lake. We reached the limited cover of the overhang of their roof just as the rain began to establish itself as a soaker. One after another of our group stepped inside to get out of the rain, until the place was filled beyond capacity.
Bikes were parked around the gas pumps and stacked 4-deep under the eaves. They had a television overhead, tuned to the weather channel, and we could see the radar image of doom headed our way. It was going to get worse, before it would get better. Our conductor, Jim Klobuchar, reported that the clerk was okay with our waiting it out in their store.
We entertained ourse
lves with conversation, and slowly but surely found more and more things to purchase. It started with drinks, moved on to snacks, and eventually included neck gators with skulls on them. Meanwhile, lightning flashed, thunder clapped, and the electricity flashed on and off a few times.
An hour passed. Then another. It was one of the few times when everyone in our group was in the same place at the same time, with nothing to 
do. It occurred to me that it was a perfect opportunity for the song I wrote, the one that makes reference to, “the trials of surviving a ride through a day-long storm.” The sing-along chorus would work well in this situation, I felt. Too bad I didn’t have my guitar.
I went for it anyway, a capella. Despite not being able to remember all of the verses, standing in front of the checkout counter, singing to the captive audience, worked as well as I could hope. It was a good lift of spirits, and refreshed our bonds of shared adventure. This trip is what we all do, rain or shine.
Eventually, the most threatening band of the storm moved past, and we were given clearance to go out into the rain to pedal to our lunch destination, about 17 miles away.
By the time we reached that stop, everyone was soaked, and a bit chilly. The proprietor met us at the door with towels, which was greatly appreciated, and quite frankly, necessary. After a pizza lunch, the next leg to Hayward would take us right past the driveway of my in-law’s lake home, where we had conveniently stashed a couple of cars at the beginning of the week. I was thoroughly pleased with our fore-planning. A small group of us would pull in there and dry off, warm up, and use the cars to rescue others, after which we could then pick up our bags of gear that would be at the school in town.
Of all the difficulty and drama that we endured in the rain that day, the issue that created the most trouble for everyone ended up being the handling of our bags. Our loyal courier, John, had attempted to unload the bags into the school gym, but was forced out by a representative of the building, being told to place them outside. They sat in the rain long enough to get very, very wet, before the Superintendent showed up and said the bags should be in the building. Poor John had to move them multiple times, and then ended up looking like the bad guy, for letting all our stuff get soaked. It definitely wasn’t his fault.
Word spread that John did the best he could to protect our things, and we were ultimately able to offer up an ovation of appreciation for all he does for us through the week.
Our night at the lake home (while those who failed to find a motel room in town, slept in the gym) was a mix of luxury and laundry. Clothes and gear were spread far and wide in an effort to dry out for the final leg of the ride on Friday, when most folks biked back to their cars.
I and a few friends wouldn’t be biking that stretch of the trip. We stayed one more day, to relax on the lake. It was a wonderful opportunity, especially after that day of riding in the rain.
Rain Delay
Cyndie reported some dramatic news on Friday, then she went out of town for the weekend, to her brother’s cabin in Maine, and out of communication. I haven’t heard from her since. I’ll write more about that, when I know more.
So, back to this year’s bike trip. I was dreaming this morning that I was on the trip again, and we were riding in a school bus that was navigating the streets of a town. The locals had marked our route by placing bicycles along the center line, like cones, to guide the bus to our destination. The bus was making a turn and trying to climb up a very steep hill (Bayfield, anyone?). The driver missed a shift and was rolling backwards to get back to a place he could start over and try again. Then, suddenly we were walking up the hill.
We came to a house where we would all stay. I was trying to claim a place to sleep on some furniture in the middle of a room.
I don’t know why a mind does this. The dream was an amalgam of situations that really happened, but morphed, as dreams usually are.
I didn’t ride in a bus this year, but some folks did.
One of the big dramas of the week played out on Thursday, as we pedaled from Mellen to Hayward, the second-to-last day of the trip. I distinctly recall Jim announcing that it was going to be a great day, as he wandered among the tents with his whistle, making his 5:30 a.m. wake-up stroll. He says that often, during these daily rousings, so it can mean a lot of different things, but I sensed it indicated fair weather. I let my guard down a bit.
My first hint of the truth came from John, our trusty baggage handler. When I handed my bag of gear (tent, sleeping bag, clothes) to him, for loading into the trailer, he asked to confirm that I had my rain gear. I made light of it, figuring that I had my riding jacket on the bike, which is all I tend to bother with for riding in rain, as well as a cover for my trunk pack, which is always in one of the pockets.
Then he asked the same question again, in a more serious tone, to be sure I understood what I was in for.
The morning was overcast, but it didn’t appear threatening, so I chose not to dwell on the subject. Also, this was the day we would ride right past the driveway to my in-laws’ lake home, where I planned to spend an extra day, luxuriating with a few friends, while the rest of the group rode the final leg back to their cars. I knew I had options. Good options.
I was feeling pretty strong on the bike that morning, and tagged along on Tim’s wheel at a healthy pace. In an hour or so, the sky took on a more defined color, mostly a dark gray, above the trees in the view ahead of us. We could tell it would be a bit of a race to reach our first rest stop before water started falling from the sky. I think we all picked up the pace just a bit as the drops started painting the pavement. We knew we were close.
the drama will continue, tomorrow…
Balancing Act
What can I say, when I don’t know what I can say?
Changes are afoot. That I know.
May take a few days to reach full disclosure.
It has me feeling how much I allow myself to exist as a function of outside influence, as compared to my own decisions and actions. I will choose how to react, but I will wait to discover what it truly is I will be reacting to. Life is a balancing act.
All that to say very little to you who read here. Let me offer a picture for your distraction. Enjoy. And, stay tuned…
Birthday Girl
It was a mere 26 years ago today when I first became a father. My lovely daughter, Elysa, is a birthday girl today!
You know how it is. She will always be my little girl…
Happy Birthday, E!
