Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Speaking of Punishment
Well, well, well. I’m enduring ongoing punishment here. It seems that for some strange reason, one of the muscles in my leg wasn’t up to full speed soccer yesterday morning, after 5 days straight of the intense stress of shoveling. Looks like I’m out of athletic activity for about 6 weeks. Could the fatigue from shoveling, and my injury playing soccer, be related?
I take it as a sign of progress that neither of my calf muscles failed me. No, this time it was a hamstring. Or, more precisely, the biceps femoris long head. I felt the “pop” on the back of my leg, just above the knee, the same as it feels to get hit by a raquetball. I have never injured a hamstring to this degree before, and never down near the knee. I didn’t know what to think. I hopped off the court, afraid to put any weight on it, and began to assess what the heck I had just done. It felt like, if I moved at all, it would cramp up. Eventually, with the encouragement of my soccer mates, I determined I could move the knee joint fully and stand to put weight on the leg without specific pain. The pain is when I try to move in any way that requires strength from that muscle. It is a soft-tissue injury that will get ice, rest, compression, and elevation for treatment. And long term, it will get massage to break up any scar tissue that forms. I learned about the benefits of that the hard way, with my calf.
All I needed to do was drive home from the club. Then I remembered I drive a manual transmission vehicle. Working that clutch is a real treat with a muscle injury. I figured I could take it slow and do as little shifting as possible. As if the driving situations are going to be sensitive to my plight. I felt like such an invalid, trying to maneuver this car with my injury, and I wanted everyone in the vicinity to realize that I was injured and might need an allowance to navigate home safely. From outside my vehicle, I looked perfectly capable to others. It struck me that the normal reaction I have to other vehicles I see every day is that the drivers would be fully prepared and equipped to drive. Why would I consider it to be any other way?
Well, now I’m here to report that I have a new insight. Even though a vehicle might look just fine, the driver could be on their way home from injuring themselves while playing sports and deserve a little extra patience. For every car we have to deal with in the rush hour on the way to or from work, which we assume is being driven by someone just as capable and aware as ourselves, we could actually have someone who just learned some terrible news, or were just involved in an intense argument with someone they love, causing them to experience a psychological injury, or even recently suffered a physical injury, and now they must try to get themselves home or somewhere safe or where they can get help. Don’t just assume people driving around you aren’t dealing with some dramatic problem of their own, just because you can’t see it.
Of course, it is still equally possible that they are driving erratically because they are eating while texting as they read the paper and fiddle with the radio. You may still be inclined to curse them, but keep in mind that other possibility as you lay on the horn to let them know of your dissatisfaction with their driving performance.
Glutton for Punishment
I have been a shoveling fool lately. Some of it, by choice. Last week we had some sleet/freezing rain/snow that really needed to be cleaned off the driveway and sidewalk or risk the chance it might freeze up for good. I hustled to get it done in the final moments before leaving town for the weekend. Then, the very next day, I went and shoveled the rink up at the lake. That was something I probably didn’t have to do, but it was a labor of love to prepare a rink for boot hockey to serve the Hays clan planning to gather next weekend. After a day of that shoveling, I was instructed to move the grill out so we could use it to cook Saturday’s dinner. The path to do that required shoveling, and it proved to be the toughest foe I would face. When the driveway up at the lake had been plowed, they dumped a pile right in front of the walkway to the lower deck and by that time it had set up like concrete. I chipped away at it in small chunks until I got it cleared. The next day I pushed a lot of powder snow to make piles for creating blocks to the igloo. Then came Monday’s 7 inch snowfall and I was back in the driveway at home moving massive amounts of snow. Overnight, another couple more inches accumulated, but I didn’t have time to tend to it in the morning so the wonderful wake of the city snowplow that filled the end of the driveway was able to set for the whole day until I got to it late last night.
I do love to shovel snow, but I also really love not shoveling snow, if you know what I mean.
There is something satisfying about the appearance of freshly cleared snow that is even more rewarding if it is the result of your own labor. However, back before Christmas, when we got hit by a series of significant snowfalls, one after another, I didn’t hesitate to accept, when my neighbor offered to clear the pile a the end of the driveway with his snow blower. As much as I enjoy the chore, I didn’t want to deny my neighbor the opportunity to help out.
My willingness to accept assistance notwithstanding… lately, with the snowfalls and my weekend plans combining in such concise timing, my affinity for shoveling is proving to reveal me as quite the glutton for punishment.
Getting Closer
photo by Mike Wilkus
Work at Play
We worked awful hard at playing yesterday. It was absolutely beautiful winter weather. Lots of sunlight even though the sky wasn’t quite clear blue and the wind was negligible. There was a hint of an outline from a previous rink someone had created on the lake, but it didn’t look like it was very big and it didn’t look like it had a good shape, so I elected to start from scratch. So, while trying to learn how to use the new tool for making igloos that I got for Christmas, I was also shoveling the perfect size and shape rink for a game of boot hockey. Our friends, Mike & Barb, were here to help and while Cyndie and I scraped the crust off the ice surface, they got in a snowshoe hike. We made slow progress on the igloo, with all the interruptions and our learning curve of technique, but thinking back to many other igloo construction projects, I often don’t get the whole thing done in one day. Several of our interruptions were a result of other people stopping by. A variety of folks who were out for a walk, ski ,and snowmobile ride, stopped by to inquire about our project. I guess it has something of a visual appeal. I shouldn’t be surprised. I found myself wanting to just stare at the product of our efforts as I climbed the stairs back up to the cabin at the end of the day.
Favorite Place
It has been a long time since we visited my favorite place. Last night’s drive up was highlighted by a stop at The Old Log Cabin Restaurant & Bar just outside Forest Lake, a hoppin’ place that we have driven past for decades and never stopped. It always enticed us as a place we would like to stop, but it is located at just the wrong distance between our departure and our destination. Usually, on the way out of town we had just gotten started and didn’t want to stop, or on the way home, we were getting close enough that we just want to get there. Since it always appeared to be busy, we figured it was a worth a visit, but it would likely involve a wait and that was a big problem related to the above ‘wrong distance’ reasons. Last night it was just the right time to finally try and we lucked out finding a spot to eat in the bar so, no waiting! It lived up to all our visions of what we anticipated it might be like.
There is plenty of snow up here, but it appears to be mostly old snow with maybe a small coating to keep it looking white. We’ll get out and investigate after breakfast and of course, I’ll let you know what we find…
photo by Mike Wilkus
Global Impact
With the day job claiming so much of my time and attention lately, it is only logical that it becomes more a part of what I write about here. Yesterday was exciting in a little different way than normal and is worthy the effort to describe. First, I need to set the scene with some backstory.
The company I am with evolved from a larger company over 9 years ago. At that time, some of the equipment from the previous business, like hand tools that crimp contacts onto wires, was acquired to use for the new company, so we started with already used equipment. One particular style of crimp tool is in demand so often that we eventually ended up with 4 of them to minimize waiting. These tools eventually break down. When I tried to order a replacement years ago, we learned that the original old favorite style had become obsolete and wasn’t available anymore. We received the new version.
The staff did not like the new one. People would wait for the favorite one instead of using the new one. Then another of the old favorites broke down. At the time, business was slowing dramatically, so there was little need for the extra tools. I held off buying another new version since it was unpopular anyway.
Now that we are busy again, there have been many requests for additional tools to meet the demand. I have looked on ebay for the old tool, but have never been there at the right time to get one. The last one there sold on November of 2009. I learned the other day how desperate my staff are getting when one of them reported that in the searches they do at night on the internet to find the tool they want, they found evidence that the obsolete tool is still available in the UK. They emailed the site to inquire and were asked to supply complete company information. That’s where I stepped in.
I wrote an ‘official’ request to a representative for the manufacturer in Europe for verification they actually had some of the obsolete tools to which my staff are so strongly attached. The first reply I received was a copy of my message being forwarded to a different department with a note saying my request was something another person should address. Then I received an email from a third person, located in the US, in Illinois, informing me that the obsolete tool is not available. Seems I have come full circle. I already knew it wasn’t available here. I just wanted to check if it was possibly still on hand somewhere in Europe.
Then I got a phone call from a representative of the manufacturer. They seemed a bit riled that I was seeking an obsolete tool. Later, I received another call, from a different person, who politely informed me that my request had gotten attention around the world and I could expect additional calls from others wanting to know why I was requesting obsolete tooling and probably another email with technical details clarifying the tool I should be ordering. The good news it that the newer version that we already have, that the staff don’t like to use, is now also obsolete and replaced by an even newer design. They want us to give that one a try.
It’s nice to see that I got some attention on this issue, but it’s a little embarrassing to be identified around the world as the guy trying to buy a tool that was declared obsolete over a decade ago.
Moments of Anticipation
Life is an adventure, and then you die. Funny, for all the times I feel like I’m okay with the possibility of death –mine or others, when I’ve just been told that we have purchased the tickets for a trip to Portugal in September, one of the thoughts that comes to mind is, “I hope I don’t die before then.” Not to mention, there’s that struggle to live in the moment, burdened with my anticipation to look forward toward the adventure at my internet friend’s Forest Garden Estate.
More near term, beyond the rest of the work week’s daily overloaded grind, I’ve got 2 weekends in a row planned for the winter getaway in Hayward. I can’t describe how special that is. I have endured a rather prolonged drought from forays to my favorite place this winter. Just like a big football game for me, the anticipation can be the best part. I need to practice melding visualizations of my desires for future fun up at the lake, to my exercises of being fully in the present moment. Can it be done?
I will enjoy my anticipation while being in this moment.
Grammy Hangover
I watched the Grammy Awards show last night. I can’t decide if it is my age that makes a show about currently popular music uninspiring or if it is the natural evolution of the industry and this event that leaves it appearing to be a forced effort, wanting to be more monumental than it really is. I don’t blame it. The whole thing is mind boggling, really.
The Grammy Awards, are presented annually by the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences of the United States. They were first established in 1958. Think back to that time and how limited the music was that could be heard on the radio or purchased on record albums. Compare that to the explosion of recorded music available through digital technology and the internet today. I can’t imagine what the nominating process must involve.
The impression I get from so many of the currently popular performing artists and their over the top productions is that they want every song to project the culminating energy of a final encore of their greatest performance ever. It’s as if they were inspired by seeing such a moment when it was achieved by one of their favorite artists and then decided that’s what they wanted to do, only bigger. But, contrary to what they hope to accomplish, when every moment is BIG, then that becomes the normal and it is nye on impossible to employ the fine art of dynamic range. The result, even though there are strobe lights, pyrotechnics, and confetti throughout, comes across more boring than exciting.
Or maybe I’m just showing my age.
What ifs
What if world population actually does continue to grow? What if we don’t figure out how to feed them all? What if a virus does overwhelm our world health organization’s best attempts to fend off a pandemic? What if we have enough food, but not enough medicine? What if greedy people and their schemes to get filthy rich at the expense of others, screw up global economies such that there is complete financial collapse? What if that doesn’t happen and world economies thrive and racial equity is achieved for all and then an asteroid destroys the earth? What if the shots missed Kennedy in Texas? What if Abraham Lincoln hadn’t been assassinated? What if Christians never killed anyone? What if every person on earth held the same spiritual beliefs? What if the Catholic religion focused solely on worshiping God, yet without any rules? What if none of the world religions had any dietary restrictions? What if every person was actually a double agent spy? What if, when the time comes, we forget to die? What if, regardless your religious beliefs, when your body dies, your soul lives on and communes with spiritual masters during the time between returning to another life in a human body? What if some of the souls that return are enabled to bring past experience and show up as child prodigies? What if we learn that our man-made religious organizations are dysfunctional and more often than not get in the way of ultimate spirituality? What if humans of Protestant faith and humans of Catholic faith never harmed each other? What if they practiced actually loving each other? What if no one ever mocked the type of music other people enjoy? What if rock bands never, ever, ever agreed to play Superbowl halftime shows? What if athletes never suffered injury playing their sport? What if no one ever took other people’s stuff? What if no one ever had more than they needed? What if no one ever had less than they needed? What if fresh water was the most valuable thing in the world? What if society completely breaks down after an apocalypse and all you have left is diamond jewelry? What if thought exercises turn out to be useless wastes of time?
Latest Behavior Pattern
It’s the cat. I’m generally of a mind not to go on and on about our cat, Kitty. I’m not really a cat guy. Many people have come to believe I’m not a pet guy at all. Not true. Well, not accurate. I’m not a pet guy of the suburban house, pet on a leash, critters in cages type. If we lived in a rural area, I’m pretty sure we would have had dogs. But the issue I’m not wanting to go on and on about is all about Kitty.
Kitty was certainly not my idea. She was a Valentine present to the kids from my wife. I just allowed it to not be a battle I would wage. For the sake of the family, I would tolerate living with a cat for a while. How long is a while?
Now the kids are grown and gone, yet the cat remains. She must be growing lonely as heck. All day long there is no one to play with. By the time I get home in the evening, she is starved for attention and loiters underfoot wherever I turn. And she meows. A lot. It is as if there might be a way to annoy a person who is not a cat type. Welcome to my world. I was clueless about all the details that Berkeley Breathed’s character creation, “Bill the Cat,” embodied, in the comic “Bloom County”, but I really, really loved it. Aack! Now I understand it to a whole new depth.
Turns out that our Kitty happens to be one of those classic vomiting felines. We get the full range from coughing up a fur ball to emptying the contents of her stomach for no apparent reason. Ack.
I recall a time when the cat was in her early years with us, Kitty would sometimes climb under the covers and sleep with Elysa. For the most part, Kitty has never been a lap cat. She never generally tolerated much in the way of extended contact with a person. Now, that has changed again. For whatever reason, Kitty now has a persistent urge to climb in bed with me, under the covers to sleep against my body. It was quite a surprise the first time, and then a little cute the second time. I never got around to plying the art of discouraging the behavior and now it seems to be her compulsion every night. If I fail to provide easy access, I get the meow cries, any time of the night she decides she wants in. One night when I was too tired to bother acknowledging her, she added pawing at me while she meowed. Just what I always wanted!
I am contemplating what level I would need to raise the reward to for the first child that finds the cat a new home. It’s becoming an increasingly likely ploy for me since the morning last weekend when I discovered some pieces of cat litter in our bed after one of her midnight rambles to and fro while I had tried to sleep. Lovely. Ack.
