After being with my company for seven years, they offer four additional weeks of vacation to be taken all at once. The program is called "renewal" and it comes with a two-year commitment to stay with the organization. It's a pretty sweet deal. I'm now seven months into that two-year commitment and needing to look back at my renewal. I kept a journal during that time and will share parts of that journal here. I reserve the right to edit as I go.
RENEWAL: My practice retirement started today. Leaving work reminded me of the last day of school. I had the urge to pull papers from my locker and toss them in the air.
I walked to the library in the rain. It was damp and dreary, but I smiled. Time was on my side. Time. Time. Stretched out before me.
I've cleaned, watched TV, made this journal more personal and now prepare to read and go to bed early. Work stress flared up a bit, but this writing is helping me calm back down. I'm considering a one Internet connection per day rule. I like the potential peace that could bring to my days. The rule did cause me to enter, leave, and re-enter the living room several times as I tried to figure out what to do with my time, glorious time. It feels weightless.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Friday, June 29, 2012
New vocuabulary- straight from Germany
I learned a new word today: torschlusspanik. I'm told it's German and means something along the lines of worrying about diminishing opportunities as I age. There are a number of reasons for my torschlusspanik: another birthday approaches, another olympics approaches, Ultimate isn't being played, finding my dream job is a much slower process when I never make efforts, etc., etc.
I keep having this Facebook status thought that goes something like: "This past year has really sucked when you take out my 6 week vacation that included 2 weeks in New Zealand, the fact that I got engaged, and the fact that CUA played its best Ultimate yet." Look at that statement. When am I going to have another 6 week vacation? Retirement or unemployment are my best hopes. New Zealand was amazing. Gorgeous. Awesome. There's more to come on those 6 weeks. I've got blog posts already written. Engaged? That's good stuff. Good Ultimate from the team I coached? What's not to like?
It makes for a ridiculous statement, yet the day-to-day has been pretty frustrating over the last year. There's been more job stress and uncertainty. There's been less exercise and certainly less intense exercise. I've stopped or lost almost every other pseudo-hobby I've had. I watch way too many movies and spend way too much time on the Internet.
If I get it down here, if I re-live or at least re-write my renewal, maybe I can change that status update. Maybe it can say something like: "Torschlusspanik or not, I knocked off some pretty serious stuff from my bucket list this year. Not too shabby, but man, I'd like to play some Ultimate." Maybe.
I keep having this Facebook status thought that goes something like: "This past year has really sucked when you take out my 6 week vacation that included 2 weeks in New Zealand, the fact that I got engaged, and the fact that CUA played its best Ultimate yet." Look at that statement. When am I going to have another 6 week vacation? Retirement or unemployment are my best hopes. New Zealand was amazing. Gorgeous. Awesome. There's more to come on those 6 weeks. I've got blog posts already written. Engaged? That's good stuff. Good Ultimate from the team I coached? What's not to like?
It makes for a ridiculous statement, yet the day-to-day has been pretty frustrating over the last year. There's been more job stress and uncertainty. There's been less exercise and certainly less intense exercise. I've stopped or lost almost every other pseudo-hobby I've had. I watch way too many movies and spend way too much time on the Internet.
If I get it down here, if I re-live or at least re-write my renewal, maybe I can change that status update. Maybe it can say something like: "Torschlusspanik or not, I knocked off some pretty serious stuff from my bucket list this year. Not too shabby, but man, I'd like to play some Ultimate." Maybe.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Perspiring quietly- additional reflections on life without AC
The whir of the portable fan begins to drown out the more pronounced shoosh-click of the ceiling fan. I watch the blades turn until my eyes can find just one. I follow it round and round and round until my eyeballs get sore, a hint of the dizzy sets in, and I start to worry that the light fixture will fall down on my head when I sleep.
Sleep. I long for it. I try not to focus on the sweat I can feel forming where my body and the sheets meet. I move ever so slightly, hoping my grateful warm skin will appreciate the air just enough that it will cancel out the effort of moving. Being hot is a form of relaxation. It limits movement, slows down bodies and thoughts. Being hot forces me to the floor. I want to be low, like a limbo-winner, lower still. I want to hover just above the ground. In a perfect world I'd have a whirring fan so powerful that it could lift me off the ground and keep my beads of sweat from forming. Instead, I have a fan the size of my head that can blow air all the way to my toes. Only a few beads will form. It could be worse.
Air conditioning has made me this way. I'm used to a certain level of cool, used to certain level of whir, used to covering my skin with a little weight when I sleep. Air has conditioned me to expect these things and to rebel when I don't have them. My rebellion is a quiet sort. It's a grassroots movement that starts in my hair follicles and eventually agitates my whole being. I'd twitch violently, but that would just be more movement. Slowly, I wipe the sweat away, adjust my beard just so, and count the sheep jumping into the pool.
Sleep. I long for it. I try not to focus on the sweat I can feel forming where my body and the sheets meet. I move ever so slightly, hoping my grateful warm skin will appreciate the air just enough that it will cancel out the effort of moving. Being hot is a form of relaxation. It limits movement, slows down bodies and thoughts. Being hot forces me to the floor. I want to be low, like a limbo-winner, lower still. I want to hover just above the ground. In a perfect world I'd have a whirring fan so powerful that it could lift me off the ground and keep my beads of sweat from forming. Instead, I have a fan the size of my head that can blow air all the way to my toes. Only a few beads will form. It could be worse.
Air conditioning has made me this way. I'm used to a certain level of cool, used to certain level of whir, used to covering my skin with a little weight when I sleep. Air has conditioned me to expect these things and to rebel when I don't have them. My rebellion is a quiet sort. It's a grassroots movement that starts in my hair follicles and eventually agitates my whole being. I'd twitch violently, but that would just be more movement. Slowly, I wipe the sweat away, adjust my beard just so, and count the sheep jumping into the pool.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Highway to some unpleasant locale
The AC went out on me on Thursday. There was a power thingy and some surges, probably some lightning, and I'm not a doctor, but the cool breeze that blows out of my floorboards stopped blowing. This seemed bad. Particularly, when I considered that summer, the official one, had just arrived. The heat from the outside became Miami's basketball team- The Heat. I turned on all the fans that we had- 4 in 3 rooms and just sweated a lot when using the WC. My sweat had a cooling effect and fortunately, some actual thunder accompanying a rain cloud also cooled the world a little because I was sweating up a storm in my own home.
The AC returned today, but not before I had the chance to reconnect with summer. There was a time, some number of years ago greater than the number of years ago that I graduated high school when my world was not always climate controlled. (That time resurfaced in college, but I'm thinking of a time when only one room in our house had a window unit.) Summer was hot and sticky those days. People drank lemonade and looked for shade. They also congregated around the window unit which is why central air conditioning became so popular. The days of window units are all but gone. My office now requires a sweater in the summer. I can go from air conditioned building to air conditioned building with just a hint of sweat on my brow. I had forgotten summer.
It can't all be blamed on central air. I haven't had nearly the same punishing outdoor schedule of years past and the weather hasn't stayed as consistently warm. Nonetheless, it was time for me to reacquaint myself with summer time. The living may be easy, but it's also pretty sweaty. Somehow, through the fits and starts of sleep and the sweaty television viewing, I found myself comfortably warm. The outside temperature and my body temperature were not so far apart. The world and I were one. Nature was just on the other side of the screen and sweat was a lubricant for life.
Today, the AC returned. I'll go back to admiring summer from behind the glass.
The AC returned today, but not before I had the chance to reconnect with summer. There was a time, some number of years ago greater than the number of years ago that I graduated high school when my world was not always climate controlled. (That time resurfaced in college, but I'm thinking of a time when only one room in our house had a window unit.) Summer was hot and sticky those days. People drank lemonade and looked for shade. They also congregated around the window unit which is why central air conditioning became so popular. The days of window units are all but gone. My office now requires a sweater in the summer. I can go from air conditioned building to air conditioned building with just a hint of sweat on my brow. I had forgotten summer.
It can't all be blamed on central air. I haven't had nearly the same punishing outdoor schedule of years past and the weather hasn't stayed as consistently warm. Nonetheless, it was time for me to reacquaint myself with summer time. The living may be easy, but it's also pretty sweaty. Somehow, through the fits and starts of sleep and the sweaty television viewing, I found myself comfortably warm. The outside temperature and my body temperature were not so far apart. The world and I were one. Nature was just on the other side of the screen and sweat was a lubricant for life.
Today, the AC returned. I'll go back to admiring summer from behind the glass.
Friday, June 15, 2012
A flight to nowhere, a honeymoon, and a 15 year reunion
The vacation did not begin well. After 30 minutes of flying toward KC, the pilot announced we were returning to DC. The delays became cancellation and the scramble to get a new flight as the tornado rolled into town became a scramble to find a flight the next day. Thanks to the generosity of C&L, we made the most of our flight to DC with a nice dinner and some movie watching.
After a sunrise jaunt to Chi-town, we nabbed a stand-by flight to KC and got to town well ahead of my cousin's wedding. The wedding was a jumbled gyration of family and FOG. It was over before the DJ even had a chance to play "Call me maybe". He did manage to play the cupid shuffle twice thanks to Madeline's request, however. My nieces danced 'til late, but would not be outdone by the bride and groom who kept going strong even after this clean up crew began removing decorations. This apple doesn't fall far from that tree.
Although some of the FOG dispersed, two clans headed out for an annual canoe trip, now with honeymooning. The usual water gun fights were complimented with a rope drop. The rope drop is a close cousin of the rope swing, but instead of that graceful arc out over the deep water of the Niangua, this involved hands being ripped raw from the rope as those of us who tried fell into the water. Tedward had more luck than I did, but I feel lucky that my only injury was rope burn.
I enjoy canoeing as it happens, but I think I enjoy it more in retrospect. It's such a peaceful activity with an occasional burst of activity and tension. It's a good mixture of relaxing and interesting. Parker made her first trip successfully. She relaxed so much that at different points on the trip she fell asleep, head lolling while the boat drifted down stream.
My sister discovered that although the her grown-up version enjoys canoeing far more than the teenage version, she still doesn't want to run a boat, at least not with her kids in it. For a while I wondered if I'd contributed to this lack of confidence, but then I decided that even if I hadn't been running the boat in our teen years, she would have resisted. It really seemed like she didn't like it those years. Eventually, every woman on the trip (except my mom) decided that, at least on a river like this, she preferred a kayak. I don't think it was a statement of independence as much as it was a comment on boat agility.
I particularly argue this since C and I closed out the week with a tandem ride. It didn't solve all our problems, but it was nice to be on the same bike ride at the same time. We would get better with starting given time. That required a little extra trust.
My story telling feels off now, but I'm trying to fight through it. My final paragraph is about the 15-year reunion I had with my track. My legs had no zip, but I still wanted to run a mile. It resulted in a pretty evenly paced 5:19. This is a good 4 seconds per year slower than, well, 15 years ago. I don't know that this is entirely reflective of my state of fitness, but it's pretty close as I continue to fight with this same mess. I'm back to PT and hoping to get over the hump. I want to sprint again and jump again (and yeah, play some Ultimate again.)
After a sunrise jaunt to Chi-town, we nabbed a stand-by flight to KC and got to town well ahead of my cousin's wedding. The wedding was a jumbled gyration of family and FOG. It was over before the DJ even had a chance to play "Call me maybe". He did manage to play the cupid shuffle twice thanks to Madeline's request, however. My nieces danced 'til late, but would not be outdone by the bride and groom who kept going strong even after this clean up crew began removing decorations. This apple doesn't fall far from that tree.
Although some of the FOG dispersed, two clans headed out for an annual canoe trip, now with honeymooning. The usual water gun fights were complimented with a rope drop. The rope drop is a close cousin of the rope swing, but instead of that graceful arc out over the deep water of the Niangua, this involved hands being ripped raw from the rope as those of us who tried fell into the water. Tedward had more luck than I did, but I feel lucky that my only injury was rope burn.
I enjoy canoeing as it happens, but I think I enjoy it more in retrospect. It's such a peaceful activity with an occasional burst of activity and tension. It's a good mixture of relaxing and interesting. Parker made her first trip successfully. She relaxed so much that at different points on the trip she fell asleep, head lolling while the boat drifted down stream.
My sister discovered that although the her grown-up version enjoys canoeing far more than the teenage version, she still doesn't want to run a boat, at least not with her kids in it. For a while I wondered if I'd contributed to this lack of confidence, but then I decided that even if I hadn't been running the boat in our teen years, she would have resisted. It really seemed like she didn't like it those years. Eventually, every woman on the trip (except my mom) decided that, at least on a river like this, she preferred a kayak. I don't think it was a statement of independence as much as it was a comment on boat agility.
I particularly argue this since C and I closed out the week with a tandem ride. It didn't solve all our problems, but it was nice to be on the same bike ride at the same time. We would get better with starting given time. That required a little extra trust.
My story telling feels off now, but I'm trying to fight through it. My final paragraph is about the 15-year reunion I had with my track. My legs had no zip, but I still wanted to run a mile. It resulted in a pretty evenly paced 5:19. This is a good 4 seconds per year slower than, well, 15 years ago. I don't know that this is entirely reflective of my state of fitness, but it's pretty close as I continue to fight with this same mess. I'm back to PT and hoping to get over the hump. I want to sprint again and jump again (and yeah, play some Ultimate again.)
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