Posts Tagged ‘work’
Lake Hangover
When the day-job is extremely Monday-ish, the struggle to get my mind back into work mode after a weekend at the lake with Cyndie’s family is doubly difficult. The dramatic difference of the sterile, air-conditioned atmosphere compared to the lush, warmth of the beach and woods was shock enough without the added stress of multiple challenging complications on the first day of the week.
I’m sure there is a balance between not caring at all and being overly concerned about keeping all parties happy. That’s an act that I have yet to master, swaying far past the center balance in my predilection to avoid the extreme of not caring.
Arriving home to a dog and cat who are both over the moon to see me again goes a long way toward purging any lingering angst from the work day.
With the respectable amount of heat and humidity lingering over our region, I was disinclined to jump right into a chore when I got home. Pausing to decompress in the recliner predictably led to an involuntary nap after I was done giving the cat all the scratches her stretched out body wanted.
Word from Cyndie and Jackie is that the chickens were given access to the wide open free range yesterday and they quickly made tracks for the composting manure piles to kick around and peck for bugs. That’s what they were hired to do, so I’m pleased as punch, even if it means I need to extend extra energy more often to reshape the resulting mess.
All ten were present for bed check last night, thank goodness.
Shortly after that, I was headed for my own bed, falling asleep to memory images lingering still from the glorious weekend at the lake.
Here’s hoping Tuesday at the day-job will be as soothing as floating in the water under the warm sunshine was over the weekend.
Well, a guy can dream, can’t he?
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Tuesday Monday
It’s back to the old routine today, sort of. The holidays are over and we are back to the regularly scheduled program. I’m headed to work this morning, and will be facing the classic Tuesday Monday. It’s the first day of the work week, which for all intents and purposes makes this a Monday. Only, it’s not.
Today is Tuesday.
The incongruity serves to blur the edges of decision-making, lending a dose of fog to the workday. Catching up after a week of vacation will not happen in a day without a fair amount of purposeful effort.
Wait. Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen every day at work?
Of course, for all of us in the Friswold family, there is the added complication of our minds still being flooded with memories of a week’s-worth of tropical fun in the Dominican Republic.
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One of our excursions off the resort property was a snorkeling adventure, which also included a fair amount of partying on the boat and in the water at a brief stop near shore. Cavorting with stingrays and nurse sharks, among the many other small ocean fish was almost secondary to the rest of the fun in the sun the crew encouraged.
I’m afraid work will have a hard time competing for my full attention today with distracting memories like these swimming laps in my mind.
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Some Days
Yesterday at work I found myself a little short of feeling like my best. Was it simply a result of it being a Monday? Possibly. More likely, it had something to do with a sub-par night’s sleep. I couldn’t get myself to turn off the Cubbies Sunday night as they eked out a victory in game 5 of the World Series. That kept me up past my bedtime.
In addition, my days of having the whole bed to myself came to an end when Cyndie arrived home from visiting the Morales family in Guatemala in the wee hours of oh-dark-thirty. That’s about the worst time of night to have a sleep cycle interrupted.
As I sat at my desk trying to shake out the cobwebs, the thought crossed my mind that maybe I should have just stayed home for the day. It wasn’t anything physical. I felt fine, I just didn’t feel all that… fine.
Then an issue needed to be addressed, and another, and another. Good thing I didn’t stay home. I may not have been my best, but I was present and available to at least contribute in the moment. Some days we need to allow ourselves to accept this as good enough. Half-speed is better than no speed at all when there is work to be done.
So, Cyndie got home in the middle of the night and I left for work in the dark of morning. She was back, but I hadn’t seen her yet, so I was getting excited to get home. I had no idea I would find this:
She had a fire in the fireplace and the kitchen filled with the aroma of fresh-baked cookies, there were scones she’d baked for breakfast, and that bread was rising on the stove. Oh, and it was nice to be able to see her, too.
As it was, a day that started out less than fine, turned out pretty darn good in the end.
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Two Worlds
In the constant ebb and flow of change that has occurred for Cyndie and me in the almost 4 years since we moved from the suburbs to rural life on a horse hobby farm, there are waves of intensity that can be both invigorating and disorienting. I’m probably just tired from a pattern of not sleeping optimal hours every night, but lately things have been mostly disorienting.
Yesterday, while filling out the schedule of customer orders at the day-job, I received a new Purchase Order with a requested delivery date that I immediately perceived to be past due. Wondering how that could be, I checked the date it was sent and interpreted that as being a week old.
I marched up to the boss’s office to investigate how this could have happened, only to embarrass myself in discovering that my mind was off by a week. The order was sent and received with yesterday’s date and they were asking for delivery next Wednesday.
Never mind.
Obviously, I was not living in the moment. My calibration gets a little off when spending hours of intense mental energy trying to fit weeks of work into limited days of available labor, several months into the future. It gets compounded when trying to do so while simultaneously burdened with trying to self-teach lessons on how to properly (read that as “legally”) load and secure heavy cargo on a trailer.
My poor little brain is surfing on the crest of one of those waves of constant change with regard to the horse hobby farm gig. We have adjusted our hay plans this year to trying to purchase all of next season’s inventory and not use any of what we can cut and bale off our field. This year’s crop on our front field is growing more weeds than grass.
We are negotiating with two sources for small square bales and trying to work out movement of goods. Cyndie called the trailer dealership in town to inquire about short-term rental of a flat-bed. It just so happens that our next door neighbor, John, works there. He said they don’t rent equipment, but offered to loan us the use of one of his trailers. He’s got two of them.
Wednesday night, John stopped by the house to discuss details and I learned very quickly how out of my league I was. When we bought the truck, I didn’t know there was a difference between a trailer hitch and a ball mount. My rather narrow experience from years in industry is in electronics manufacturing. It was intimidating to learn the significance of details involved with trailering commercial-sized loads like the one I already moved last week, which I had done without proper knowledge.
Yesterday, Cyndie took our truck in to have the trailer dealer install a brake controller. Last night, our neighbor stopped by and dropped off his trailer in front of our hay shed.
I’m trying to shift mental gears from the day-job world to the hobby farm world, and reviewing the Wisconsin laws for securing and trailering heavy cargo. We are also trying to plot a course toward improving the crop of hay we hope to grow for ourselves.
Don’t ask me what day it is today. I’m feeling a little disoriented.
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Spectacular Weekend
I’m back at work today, but I expect my mind will be flooded all day long with thoughts of the spectacular weekend we just enjoyed. The weather was divine and complimented everything that was planned to honor the 50-year anniversary of Wildwood Lodge Club in Hayward, WI, on the Independence Day holiday weekend.
Sunday we held our traditional games such as water balloon toss, shoe kick, 3-legged race, and watermelon eating contest. A typical number of rules were circumnavigated in pursuit of victories, but that never lessens the laughter and frivolity enjoyed by all.
In the evening, after a catered dinner, one member from each family ever holding a membership participated in a game of Wildwood Jeopardy. When that was over, dancing to live music carried on into the wee hours of Monday morning.
Despite the late hours, I woke up early enough the next morning to sneak out on another beautiful bike ride with Cyndie’s brother, Ben.
Then it was back in the water for one last swim before it was time to pack and leave for home. Leaving the beach before the day is done is always one of the hardest things to do. It gets me begging for science-fiction to hurry up and become science-fact, in terms of a transporter ala-Star Trek to eliminate the travel time needed to get home.
Pushing myself to leave the lake during the best part of the day becomes a much more difficult thing to do when the weekend is as spectacular as this last one just was.
I feel like I deserve a medal for making it back to work today.
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Those Days
It’s been one of those days lately at the day job. Several of those days, actually. So, on my off-day of the week, I’m still grinding away on the work email to address issues. Issues that come in bunches. Bunches of issues that I prefer not occur.
But they do.
I looked out the bedroom window this morning and spotted a volunteer oak sapling that I staked up last year in hopes it would become well established and fill a void created by the loss of a pine. The new leaves are all wilted and sad.
It got me thinking that the same thing would likely have occurred to the new transplanted maple in the center of our labyrinth, had it actually sprouted new buds this spring.
So is it a good thing that it didn’t grow?
Maybe I’ll look at it that way. By not thriving after being transplanted, it avoided the fate of frozen new growth last weekend. Smart little tree.
It’s been one of those springs, thus far.
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Online Waiting
It’s what I do. More and more lately, what precious little free time I have to be online is being spent in wait-mode. Whether it is solar flares, our rural terrain, or just a humming-bird sitting at some critical spot on the cell tower, our signal has been toggling on and off at a painfully frequent rate of late.
It’s exasperating, especially when it comes to loading images. Over and over I try, because it always starts out looking like everything is working fine, until it’s not. Then comes the mysterious pause.
Did it stop for just a moment? Did the connection get dropped and it is automatically resetting? Is it down for the count and nothing more will happen no matter how long I stare at it?
Today’s picture is so great, it is worth the wait for me to get it up, but if waiting won’t help one bit, the best picture in the world won’t do me any good.
Who wouldn’t love to see this shot of Delilah with wet hair after her bath?
Today is a rare Friday for me because I am at the day-job. Since I went back to work earlier this summer, I have been putting in a 4-day week, taking Fridays off as the first day of my 3-day weekend. There is just… Too. Much. To. Do. So much so that, not only am I working Friday, but probably Saturday, too.
What!?
I know. I am just as flustered as you. When am I going to get the mowing done? What about all the other chores!?
My sentiments, exactly.
It was tough enough getting thrown out of Eden and forced back into the long commute to industriesville. Now I’m additionally burdened with unending customer requests that exceed my ability to respond successfully.
I’m getting no sympathy from Pequenita. Instead, she just demands more attention from me, starting as soon as I walk in the door and continuing all the way through my feeble attempts to do some writing on the laptop before sleeping. Yesterday, while I wasn’t paying attention to her, she strolled out the open front door through which I was conversing with Cyndie out in the yard.
Suddenly our indoor cat appears calmly in my view on the front steps beneath me.
I don’t blame her for wanting to escape. I know exactly how she feels. I’ve got my eye out for the off-hand chance somebody leaves a door open at the day-job.
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Work Friends
Other than feeding our animals in the morning and again when I got home, yesterday was not a Wintervale day. I drove into the cities to spend a little time at the old day-job, allowing me the chance to again be with the fabulous people with whom I was previously employed. As wonderful as it has been to spend my full-time days managing our property, I suffer a great loss by no longer being able to work with the people who, in many ways, had grown closer to me than family.
Working 8-hours a day together for many years, through thick and thin, sharing responsibilities toward a common goal, has a way of bonding a diverse group of people. I wish I could bring them all home with me to help manage the ranch.
When done right, a healthy response to problems becomes a work of art. During my visit, an issue was discovered during final inspection, which was calmly investigated, and a solution devised. I watched the activity travel seamlessly from person to person, with ease. It was a joy to behold.
In the end, I don’t feel that I contributed any tangible value to the output of product. I served as a second set of eyes to review a completed new project. In fact, I was more of a hindrance to getting things done with all my chattering and catching up. They ordered pizza and we had a company gathering for lunch. (Don’t tell Cyndie, but it was her favorite from Gina Maria’s.) What’s not to like about a ‘work day’ like that?
It means a lot to me to not have to drive that long commute anymore. Despite the stop-and-go afternoon traffic coming home yesterday, the trip wasn’t annoying at all, because seeing them again had been such a rewarding pleasure.
They are no longer my work-mates, they have become friends from that place where I used to work.
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Pure Joy
Even though there was much in the way of work being done on the main day of ‘Work Weekend,’ at the lake place we call Wildwood, there was no shortage of fun in the endeavors of the day.
After toiling away on the beach to reclaim the area from the unending processes of Mother Nature to take over our sandy little oasis, I pitched in, literally, to help others in improving the landscape in front of the lodge. The grass grows really well in the spaces near the building where it isn’t wanted, and I assisted with digging it up using a garden fork that looked like a very close relative of the pitch fork that has become one of my primary tools at home. A beautiful array of perennials were planted into the newly turned soil.
Throughout the tasks, conversations blossomed in an annual renewing of connection with members of the community who scatter to their city lives for most of the winter.
Taking a pause from the work, I stopped back to the house where Cyndie was resting her hip and reading a book. I sat with her for a bit, until I noticed she had nodded off into a nap. Figuring I might as well go get my computer to take advantage of the time, I climbed the stairs to our room, finding my laptop beside the great big bed. Since she was already asleep, I figured I didn’t need to take it back downstairs to be in her proximity, and so laid on the bed to check in with the world.
I awoke in a slobbery mess of drool, after a most delicious unplanned nap of my own.
Hearing the words, “soccer game,” I descended the stairs to rejoin humanity and rediscovered how much joy I get from playing the beautiful game. I think it started as 4-v-4, but soon grew to include more people than the space actually allows. Maybe that is why the decision gets made that we won’t use borders, and play continues regardless the fact the ball is within the jungle gym play area, around the SUV parked on the driveway, or even behind the goals, like a game of hockey.
Slowly, in a reverse of how the numbers swelled to the maximum, players wander off to other pursuits, often without saying a thing. After battling situations that feel a lot like playing short-handed in a game of hockey, the game is paused and a player volunteers to switch so play can resume with reasonable balance. In the end, it came down to me facing one last challenge from 6-year-old nephew, Beck, for some 1-v-1.
He said, “Go over to your goal.”
“No, that’s an awful long way away. Let’s just play a small game right here,” I encouraged.
He kicked the ball around me and headed the length of the field to ‘my goal.’ What could I do? I chased after him to protect my goal. He was a tenacious foe and I soon realized he would not quit until he succeeded in getting that ball in the net. I was tired and wanted to be done, so I provided an opportunity. He missed. The ball rolled wide. A few near-misses later, the ball found the target and he was satisfied. Game over.
Pure joy.
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Days Filled
Natural processes never pause. We had a very spring-like day yesterday, starting the morning with a classic thunder shower. By the end of the day, I couldn’t see any snow left on the ground as I walked the southern fence line to repair areas where Legacy practiced his penchant for dismantling things with his teeth. The frost hasn’t gone out of the ground yet, but already there are green sprouts emerging from the dirt.
A trek around the property is an overwhelming experience of discovering all the things that deserve attention. The trick is picking the best time for each task. The terrain is too wet for many activities, but the high ground is getting close to dry enough for equipment to drive over it without leaving giant ruts. Mornings can still offer frozen ground, which invites the possibility of driving over areas that will be too muddy later in the day. Any day could bring rain, or even snow, which will quickly cause a setback in the progress of drying out the land.
We need more gravel brought in, and will want to find fill dirt to bolster areas that were excavated last year and experienced some dramatic settling in the time since. With the ground as soft as it is, we cause more damage than we want if we ask for deliveries of sand, gravel, or dirt during this time of year. Instead, I’ve resorted to using some of the broken down winter manure and mud scraped up in the paddocks to fill one spot that settled. If it works out, there’s plenty more where that came from.
With nature forging ahead every minute without pause, it becomes imperative that we fill our days with activities to keep pace. There is no shortage of work to do to occupy our time. I find myself mentally battling dread that I am neglecting things here when I have a low energy day, finding myself short of motivation to take on the next task. It gets compounded when I consider that I also want to take personal time for getting miles on the bike and playing the guitar; two hobbies of several that I used to do when I had spare time for such exploits.
There is consolation in the fact that I enjoy the projects we have underway, and receive deep satisfaction from the improvements we achieve. It may be a false impression, but I think there should be less demands on our time in the long run, after we accomplish all the projects of shaping the land, installing fencing, and constructing rooms and sheds. In fact, we have more behind us than remains in front of us, with regard to those issues.
We are close enough to reaching a point of only needing to manage day-to-day operations such that I’m feeling hope it is within reach. It may be another year or two, but that’s not all that long in the span of a lifetime. In addition, it’s not something that just happens in an instant, so the work that fills our days now will subtly transition over time, becoming more routine and efficient, and thus, less all-encompassing.
Or, so I can try to convince myself.
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Relative Something 