My alarm went off in the pre-dawn darkness of yet another Monday morning. Five-thirty comes pretty damned early, especially on Mondays. Geebus, I just closed my eyes, I thought. How can it be six and a half hours since the last time I looked at my clock? I hit the snooze button, half asleep yet fully aware that I had seven more minutes before the clock began emitting its grating, annoying wake up call again. Still, I find my clock’s alarm preferable to the literal screaming noise our weather alert radio makes. It’s a jarring experience to be suddenly awakened by the weather radio in the dead of night, especially when you know it’s going off because there’s severe weather in the area.
But not on this particular morning. I sat up in bed, turned on the light on my night stand, and turned on the morning news to see if I had missed anything overnight. With those pesky North Koreans testing faulty missiles, anything goes in
With my morning news ritual over, I headed off to the shower in an attempt to wake up, recall the events of the past weekend, and contemplate the week ahead. It had been a good three-day weekend for me. Friday found me home as a work crew came to take down the oak tree that had been hit by lightning at the beginning of May. The backyard looks so much different now that that tree is gone, but we no longer fear the thing being blown over in a storm. On the other hand, I have a LOT of wood to split for winter and I have to get going on that soon to ensure that the wood is sufficiently dried out to burn in our fireplace come December. The afternoon found me with some free time, so I grabbed my golf clubs and headed off to the driving range to “practice my slice,” as I told the guy at the clubhouse. I had some problems hitting my 1 wood a few weeks back playing eighteen holes while on vacation, which pissed me off because it’s the one club I can hit consistently and I couldn’t hit the ball straight if my life depended on it. At the driving range I hit my 1 wood well again, and came to the conclusion that if I tee the ball too high I wind up slicing WAY off to the left. I also practiced hitting some of my irons, which I really needed to practice with. The hour I spent on the driving range really helped me figure out my swing when it comes to the irons. I think I’m ready to play another eighteen holes and try to beat the 104 I shot last month.
Friday evening found my wife and me taking our daughter to the pool in the substantial student physical activity center on campus. The week before she had passed her swimming test at summer camp, and she was now allowed to swim in the deeper section of the camp’s pool. She is very proud of herself and her newfound confidence in the swimming pool, and her parental units share her sense of accomplishment. On this evening we went swimming in the natatorium’s diving pool. I knew my daughter had jumped off the diving board at her summer camp, so I wasn’t too surprised when she launched herself off the 1 meter board at the diving well. I was surprised when she announced that she wanted to jump off the 3 meter board. She climbed up the ladder up to the platform where the board awaited her, me following behind figuring that she’d change her mind about jumping from that height. Slowly but surely she walked out to the end of the board. A moment’s hesitation and...she jumped!
Holy crap! She jumped off the 3 meter spring board! My wife was in the water near the diving board just in case there was trouble, but as soon as the little one swam over to the side of the pool, she was climbing back up the ladder and heading to catapult herself off the board again! Now, I readily admit to possessing a fear of heights, and ten feet above the water is not that high. But for someone like me it might as well be one hundred feet. I stood up on the diving platform wanting to jump off the board but with the side effects of acrophobia starting to make their presence known. I got up on the diving board and slowly edged my way out to the end. This was something more than confronting a fear; pride was at stake. My six year old had just jumped off the board TWICE, and here I was a little nervous about jumping off the first time. Losing my nerve I backed off from the front edge of the board, at which time my daughter came by me to jump off the board for the third time. Alright, dammit! I had to jump now, seemingly irrational fears be damned. Once my daughter had cleared the area below the board, I slowly made my way out to the end of the board...and I jumped! No sooner had I swam to the edge of the pool than I was climbing back up the ladder for another go.
The hot water of the shower felt really good on all the muscle tension in my upper back, shoulders, and neck—the price I paid for swinging golf clubs and swimming all in the same day. Eric Clapton’s “After Midnight” began to play on my shower radio. As I always seem to do, I listened to the song but was paying close attention to the bass line and the melody. It had been a long time since I had played that particular song and I had played it the first time I played in public—and certainly not with that bass line; rather, I played a more “walking” bass line that hit notes on the off-beat, throwing everyone off at first. My first time playing my bass in public was way back in 1990 for a one-off gig for the Fourth of July picnic at the local Navy base. A friend of mine who worked there asked if I would be interested in playing that day and there was no way I was going to turn down an opportunity to play. There were six of us, and we played a few times at the officers’ club which were less a public show than practice sessions. Fortunately most of us shared common musical influences, so we were able to cobble together a set list in short order. Songs by Eric Clapton, Cream, The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Van Morrison comprised most of the set. We really wanted to play Van Morrison’s “Moondance” (which I’ve come to really like since then) but I just couldn’t figure out the bluesy bass line and didn’t want to BS something else in its place. Perhaps now I should take the opportunity to sit down and get to know the song, 16 years too late. We played for about two hours in the early July summer, southern heat and humidity. It was what I would call a good show—mistakes were few, we all had fun, people liked the music, and there was beer to drink. When it was all over I was a little depressed with the realization that we were finished, no more practices, no more gigs. I’ve always liked playing music with other people and I always will. It’s so satisfying and enjoyable on so many levels to create music with others.
The time had come to finish off my morning shower with cold water. It’s a nice way to jolt myself awake and shock the system, though not as much of a shock as during the winter when we actually have hot and cold running water as opposed to summer’s hot and warm running water in the south. The prospect of heading off to work didn’t sound to appealing after three days off. I’m feeling bored and unmotivated, but still getting my job done. Then there’s also the frustration of trying to rework an entire web site only to be stymied by a javascript menu that stubbornly refuses to work. Then there’s our relatively new front desk person who’s under the misimpression that she carries a bit more weight with the department head than she actually does. I miss our old front desk person. Sure she was bored and under employed but I liked talking to her.
My boss had been away for ten days and would be back in the office that morning. Yee-friggin-hah! While he was away I was privy to some written comments he had made about me that I wasn’t supposed to see. Apparently I’m not a diplomat (no shit!) but I know the rules and policies around this place and he’d be sunk without me. Now I really regret not going on that interview a couple of weeks ago. It’d be a win-win situation: either I’d get a new job or more money. Oh well, hindsight is always 20-20 and I’m generally happy running my own dog-and-pony show at the office.
Time to shut off the shower and get going. There was a child to awaken and get dressed, and fed, and repeatedly told to go brush her teeth, and lunch to make, and trash to take out.... Being a grown-up really sucks sometimes.
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