Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Catching a Scent of Kiwi

      A flash of memory and I was suddenly on a 28 foot Islander motoring into the mouth of the Merrimack River late in the night after a long, wonderful evening ’round Isle o Shoals, music playing loud and rum flowing freely. We were lucky that night, reckless as we were, but all highly focused when it counted.  And entering the treacherous mouth in the dark is one of those times when it counted.  The entire night is a shared conspiracy between the three of us, and the stories usually come out with the rum.

      That sailboat was full of challenges and maintenance issues and most of all an unplaceable odd smell we just couldn’t get rid of. The smell was the deal breaker, and we finally sold her to an eager gentleman with resolve to bring her back. I recognized that resolve, but that boat broke me just as it probably broke him. I hope not though – I’d like to think that she got a complete facelift and is defiantly darting across the waves as she once did.  She was a great sailor, that Islander.  She had a great name too: Kiwi.  But her body odor was just too…  off-putting.

      Like a bad relationship you can’t get past, I’d like to sail again, but I’m scarred by the first one.  I know the cost of a big boat. Money is one thing, but time is another. There’s nothing wrong with spending either if you’re all in, but I’m not all in. Not now anyway.  And so I crew on other boats in normal times.  And I sail on small boats when the opportunities come up.  And I scheme and plan for ways to get back on the water again.  And follow the adventure of others who do.  When the respiratory vapor settles on this pandemic I’m picking up a small boat to sail around the bay.  One small way to stay in the game.  I know the logistics of that aren’t small either, but nothing meaningful is easy.  And sailing is meaningful.

    • Home Workout

      The Saturday workout was supposed to be a 10,000 meter row. Sometime around 1:30 I realized that wasn’t happening, but I got a six hour workout in anyway: I painted the ceilings downstairs. Now before you roll your eyes dismissively at me, consider the logistics for a moment. In that time I climbed the equivalent of 31 flights of stairs, walked 8000 steps and performed countless overhead presses from taking a wet roller on a pole and rolling in awkward positions for hours. In the process of performing the latter I reacquainted myself with the shoulder pain I had from too many burpees in 2019.

      If there’s anything positive about this pandemic, its that I’ve finally stopped procrastinating on home improvement projects that have nagged me for years. This isolation and my sweat equity have brought a new kids bathroom, freshly painted laundry room and kids bedrooms, new door hardware on all the upstairs doors, new ceiling fans in each of the bathrooms, new shower in the master bathroom, new ceiling with crown molding in the guest bathroom, removal of the massively overgrown junipers that greeted visitors along the driveway and now, finally, freshly painted ceilings in the downstairs rooms. The house is like new, if you will, and today I walked around feeling both a sense of accomplishment and soreness in places I wasn’t aware you could feel soreness.

      So yesterday, as it snowed outside in that “it’s 2020 why not throw squalls in May at them to complete the mind f**k” kind of way, I ignored the outside world and checked boxes that were way down the list when we started this year. If the world was normal I’d be getting ready for my son’s graduation, planning a trip to New York to move our daughter back from college, and complaining about the pollen count while tactfully ignoring my to-do list of home improvement projects. But it’s not normal, and I’m pressing ahead on that list, making the most of found time at home. I’ll still need to get that 10,000 meter row in before the weekend ends, but I’m not complaining. My alternative workout yesterday turned out to be pretty productive after all. Now what else is on that list?

    • Recent Purchases I’ve Grown to Love

      I’m doing my best to get rid of things, and for the most part I’m making good progress on this front.  But we all need those essentials to get through the days, and some of it grows quickly to be your favorite stuff.  Anyone who knows me will recognize the tendencies on the following list: work, walk, garden, music and coffee. Shocking? Anyway, here are five things I’ve picked up over the last couple of years that have grown into my favorites:

      1. G-Pack Pro Standing Desk Converter – I’m working from home a lot right now, and candidly I don’t like sitting on my ass all day.  It’s not good for you, and that nags at me the longer I’m parked in front of my desk.  So this winter before any of us thought we’d be social distancing I purchased this sit/stand desk converter.  And I’ve found it to be remarkably easy to use.  I simply press a lever, pull the desk up or push it down and I don’t miss a beat in working for hours on end at my old desk, now new again.  I have a laptop and monitor on one side and a Mac on the other and it just… works. Wish I’d gotten this thing years ago.
      2. AeroPress Coffee and Espresso Maker – I’ve written about this coffee maker before, and frankly I don’t know what I did without it.  Making an entire pot of coffee is wasteful and prompts me to consume more than I should. The AeroPress makes a great cup of coffee, every time, in close [enough] to the time it takes to make a K-cup. And there’s a ritual associated with it similar to making tea that is quite satisfying.
      3. Sony WH-CH700N Noise Cancelling Headphones – Purchased for flights, but really handy in this social distancing world where there’s a conference call happening in the dining room, a class discussion happening on the porch and me listening to tunes between calls in the office. Comfortable, rich sound and immersive.
      4. DeWit Welldone Serrated Trowel – I spoiled myself with this trowel. Feel the heft of it, the quality: This is a lifetime tool, and it makes the ritual of planting a joyful experience with a tactile assurance that it’s up for the task. Gardening is my escape, and I don’t need the distraction of crappy tools when I’m doing it. This trowel is pure bliss.
      5. Merrell Outmost Vent Hiking Shoes – I purchased these shoes to replace another pair of Merrell’s that walked with me in Portugal, Newfoundland, Arizona and moderate trails in New England. The most recent pair have made the trip around Scotland, from Arthur’s Seat to The Storr and Camusdarach Beach. Yesterday afternoon I took a walk in a nearby town forest With trails and ledge wet and muddy from a day of rain. These Merrill’s did the job offering enough reliable traction and water resistance to allow me to focus on other things, like the silent embrace of hundreds of wet hemlocks reminding me that the world will go on.

    • Pay Your Dues

      “You have to assemble your life yourself – action by action.  And be satisfied if each one achieves it’s goal, as far as it can.” – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      I wrote an entire blog post alternating between English and French to practice my French.  But I relied heavily on Google Translate to accomplish the task, and frankly it felt too much like cheating to me to publish it.  I’ll attempt it again another time, but with me slogging through it, not by typing an entire sentence and having it translated for me.  Handy tool when you really need it, but there’s no soul in that.  And no satisfaction when it’s done.

      There’s value in the work.  Learning by pushing through the challenges.  Becoming better over time.  I learned that rowing in college.  Bloody knuckles from getting pinched on the gunwales when the boat suddenly tilted to port (likely my fault for lunging too far out).  Bruised back from catching an oar handle of the starboard rower behind me (from bad timing on one or both of our parts).  Blisters upon blisters on the hands (a necessary evil, for as you harden your resolve through thousands of strokes your soft skin must adapt too).  All of it is paying your dues in blood and sweat and time.  Maybe a tear or two on those especially cruel rows when coach would have us turn around and do it again.  But the work payed dividends, and changed me in the process.

      And so it is with other work we must do.  Lingering projects that won’t finish themselves.  The blessedly passé commute to work.  You know sometimes it will suck, but get on with it already.  Working when you don’t feel like it.  Cleaning up the dirty dishes and cleaning the bathroom and washing the clothes and weeding the garden and picking up the branches after a windy night on the edge of the forest.  And it turns out the mind stops protesting and you get into the routine and you see the finish line and push on through until you’re finally, blessedly, done.  Until tomorrow.

      And that’s life, one task at a time, repeated.  Sure, a little rest and relaxation is nice too, but the mind and body weren’t built for sloth.  We all need to get on with the work at hand.  And so I try to move, try to keep up with things, try to make the most of the time at hand, and save the little life hacks like using Google Translate for when I really need it.  There’s value in the work, and we know it instinctively.

      We all know people who skate through life, not doing much, talking a good game, telling the world how much they’re doing and how important their contribution is….  but in your gut you know they’re full of it.  Really, you don’t have to look too far for a great example of that.  But that’s not us.  We pay our dues.  Look at the pictures of nurses with scars on their face and the backs of their ears from wearing a mask all day, every day.  Who are we to complain when the world is full of people paying a tougher toll than us?  Do the work.  Pay your dues.  Even when you feel you’ve earned the right to relax a bit, pay your dues anyway.  We’ll all be better for having endured.

    • For My Next Trip Around The Sun

      For my next trip around the sun, if I may be so presumptuous, I’ll try harder to meet the Aurora Borealis on its terms. Maybe finally catch those evasive Northern Lights, I really do need to meet up with them this time around.  I’ll travel again to faraway places.  Places previously unknown to me that caught my imagination in a travel article or a book.  Places that Google street view hasn’t posted online.  I know these places are out there, I’ve tried in vain to reach them with a mouse before.

      For my next trip around the sun, if good fortune should shine upon me, I’ll rest a hand on the trunk of a Sequoioideae, but first I’ll learn how to spell it without copy and paste.  I once spent a week within an hour’s drive of Redwood National Forest and never bothered to go visit.  Some excuse about work, I suppose.  I don’t recall that mattering in the end anyway.  Touching a redwood tree and looking up to the sky would have mattered far more.

      For my next trip around the sun, if the stars align and I make the full trip, I’m going to celebrate the graduation of my first born and prepare for the graduation of my second born.  The world has changed in ways that seemed fictional not too long ago, and presents challenges that you and your generation will rise up to meet.  I hope my generation and my parents generation does the same and you have something to build on.  The world isn’t fair, we all know that, but a few generations collaborating on solutions to the world’s problems seems a logical next step.  The world is ready for non-violent transformation.  Will it begin with now?

      For my next trip around the sun, should I be so bold, I’ll strive more.  Strive for more meaningful contributions, strive for more engagement in conversation, strive to be more disciplined in the food and drink I take in, strive to be more consistent with the daily habits that make a difference today and for however many trips around the sun you have left.  We all know what we should do, how many do it?  I strive to do it this time around the sun.   You know I’ll write about it, so feel free to poke and prod me should I fall behind.

      For my next trip around the sun, if it should come to pass, I’ll savor more.  Savor the sounds and sights and smells that make up the moments of the day.  Sip a little slower, chew a little more, slow down just enough, look up from the phone and see what’s happening around you.  Savor the time passing by instead of grabbing it tighter and watching it escape anyway, like beach sand in a tight fist.  Savor the long walks and the long talks and the short moments that catch your breath.

      For my next trip around the sun, should the gods look down upon my favorably, I’ll look up more.  Look up at the sky to track our progress over the next year.  Look up old friends you don’t talk to nearly enough.  Look up at the stars and learn to identify them by the way they align with other stars from our unique perspective in the universe.  Look  out, up and out again as the sun rises, warms the skin and the earth around you and drops down again below the horizon, as we all must do eventually.  And so you begin another trip around the sun.  Where will it take you?

    • Something Ethereal

      When this is all over with I’m going to a favorite breakfast place and settle into a deep conversation with my table mates, offering artful-disguised-as-clumsy banter to the waitress who’s heard it all before but plays along anyway, and savor eggs cooked by an unseen savior who hides just on the other side of a small window. When this is over that’s what I’ll do.

      Last night we watched the crescent moon reluctantly drop down in the western sky, coaxed along in a slow dance of wonder by the stunning beauty of Venus. I burned an entire wheelbarrow of split wood in a pagan tribute to the dancers, sending sparkling tributes upwards to the heavens. My breathing raspy from the wood smoke and my mind calculating the cure for one too many gin and tonics before I turned in for the night. The pandemic hasn’t robbed us of this ritual just yet. May these nights last forever (maybe with less gin – sneaky spirit that it is).

      The morning after such celebrations is a great time to go out for breakfast and make new memories over super-heated coffee. Perhaps that’s why I miss it so right now, or maybe I’m just ready for close banter with the outer circle again. We make our splash in this world and our ripples ring outward, intersecting with other rings from other splashes and others still, all bouncing off one another in a continuous dance across the surface of our lives. Social isolation removes the bounces, and we just ring across the surface touching nothing. Offering deeper moments with our immediate circle to be sure, but we need the interaction with others to influence our concentric circles. There’s only so much introspection you can tolerate without testing out ideas on the rest of the world.

      On their own the crescent moon and brilliant Venus are striking, but when they dance together it becomes something breathtaking, something… ethereal. So too we might offer our own mark on the world as individuals, but need others around us to truly illuminate our place in the universe. So there you are; two analogies in one blog post, blended together and served piping hot, like that coffee would be. Cue the waitress rolling her eyes.

    • Stay Up Late

      I stayed up so late last night that it was almost today. Apparently people still do this. Personally, I’ve grown too fond of early mornings over the years to spend much time up past 10 PM or so. We all choose the toll we want to pay of missing out. We can pick only one: late night fun, early morning productivity or sleep deprivation. Life is full of sacrifices.

      This is serious business of course. Marriages end on smaller things than sleep cycles. Like “why did you put the dishes away in that cabinet?” or “I was cleaning out the attic and threw away that box full of old stuff”, or something like that. Sleep cycles, and lack of sleep, amplify small annoyances into bigger things than they should be. When you’re socially isolating together for an extended time it’s best to minimize such sources of contention all around. We’ve learned long ago to give each other space. Hers is running and late nights. Mine is gardening and early mornings. We make it work.

      I’m not sure the standup comedian we watched on television was worth the hour of sleep I sacrificed, but the toll was paid, the coffee is hot, all will be forgiven. Just don’t do it every night. A life together is made up of these little special moments, repeated, with a soundtrack of The Association’s soothing greatest hits playing softly in the background. “Say, why did you put this dish in this cabinet? You know it’s always gone over here, right? I’m sorry? … okay, I think I’ll have another coffee. Would you like one too?”

      I think tonight I’ll get to bed at a decent hour…

    • On Seizing the Day

      “Let us therefore set out whole-heartedly, leaving aside our many distractions and exert ourselves in this single purpose, before we realize too late the swift and unstoppable flight of time and are left behind. As each day arises, welcome it as the very best day of all, and make it your own possession. We must seize what flees.” Seneca, Moral Letters

      If nothing else comes of this time, I’ve had significantly more time with 2/3 of the family. Sure, I’ve knocked off many of the nagging renovation projects this house I live in needed, but more importantly the family time has been a net positive. Tim Ferriss throws out a statistic that says 90% of the time you spend with your parents is used by the time you finish high school. My experience is that he’s half right in that one. One parent has been an active participant, one has accumulated other priorities and drifted away. Such is life. And now as a parent yourself you fully understand the reality of parenthood. So how much of that math do you apply to your own children? They don’t fly if you hold them tight, but they may flounder if you don’t give them the time they need. Balance is the key, Grasshopper.

      I’ve visited the Seneca quote a few times before in this blog. It’s a recurring theme, if you will. Carpe Diem! Memento Mori! I should read the Seneca quote every day until it’s burned into my brain, for even though I try to live it, sometimes life stirs the pot enough that you forget that this moment is all we’ve got. How cliché… and how absolutely on point. If COVID-19 isn’t a reminder of that, what is? How many healthcare workers, seeing so much death in such a compressed amount of time, have reminded us to tell our loved ones how much they mean to us now, not tomorrow – as if that’s guaranteed to us? How many listen, I wonder?

      This week marked 50 years since the Apollo 13 mission went from routine to a stunning rescue mission. I watched the Tom Hanks film again to honor the moment. What struck me was how routine the miraculous had become. You’re flying to the moon in a ship made of foil? Who cares? We’ve seen that show already. Until it became a struggle for life and death anyway. Then it became must see TV. How quickly the extraordinary becomes routine. Waking up today was extraordinary. What a gift! Billions before us would give anything for another day above ground. And what do we do with it? Binge watch Netflix? The virus is horrific, the collective pause it offers is a gift. Just as this day is. Take it for granted or embrace the possibilities it offers? There’s our choice.

      Seizing the day means more than trying to create a highlight reel of moments, it’s being present in the moment. Moments as mundane as washing dishes, and feeling the tactile experience and wonder of hot water and soap flowing over your hands and disappearing down a drain. Walking outside barefoot and feeling the coolness or warmth of the earth radiating through your feet. Watching larger birds flap about on the bluebird feeder seeing the worms inside and trying to find a way inside. Noting the incremental progress of the sunrise (or sunset if you will) as the earth tilts. Listening to a loved one as they move about in a quiet house and the gratitude of their presence in your life this day. All miraculous parts of this incredible life we’re given. Don’t let the routine lull you to sleep again. Be awake and alive while you’re here! We must seize what flees. Carpe Diem.

    • Stupid Prizes

      I’m not sure where I heard the phrase first, but I know for sure I wrote it down most recently when I heard Naval say it, so I’ll offer him credit for repeating it once more that I might truly hear it: “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”  Boy, have I played some stupid games in my life.  To be fair, haven’t we all?  Life is full of stupid games, and what are you really pursuing in the playing of it?

      I once played a stupid game where we threw glass bottles in a stream and threw rocks at them to try to break them as they floated by.  The thought of that horrifies me now, but I was a dumb kid in a time when it didn’t seem like a big deal to introduce litter and broken glass into a stream.  My prize for playing that stupid game was getting hit by a car when I tried to run across the road to throw rocks at a bottle that had gotten away.  I deserved that car windshield, and I’m grateful the prize didn’t include a coffin in my size.  I’m not sure my mother deserved the prize of hearing her son was hit by a car but hey, I was playing a really stupid game and there were ample prizes to go around.

      More typical stupid games are trying to be cool in school and missing out on better prizes while you play stupid.  Taking a job you hate to try to play the corporate ladder game for another rung into a job you’ll hate more but has more prestige and money you’ll waste on stupid prizes.  I’ve had a few dress shoes pressed into my forehead owned by ladder climbers in my time climbing ladders.  Chasing metrics and KPI’s and all manner of Chutes and Ladders in the pursuit of differentiation in a red ocean of sharks feeding on one another most famously profiled in a New York Times profile on the culture five years ago at Amazon.

      Stupid games include competing to get your child into the right school, with the right social activities, playing the right position in the right sport on the right travel team, to win the next “right” prize.  It’s another ladder with people stepping on top of each other on the scramble, made worse as it’s removing childhood from the lives of children in the pursuit of status.  That seems a particularly cruel stupid game.  Rising above stupid games isn’t easy, but it’s our only hope of winning better prizes.  But then again judging people for the games that they play is a stupid game in itself.  What does it get you but resentment or jealousy or condescension?  Now that is stupid.

      It would be easy to write that I’m done playing stupid games and this pandemic has shaken me of the beliefs that made me play them.  But we’re all human and will make decisions that in hindsight will be stupid.  No, life itself is a game and sometimes we find ourselves pursuing stupid.  I can’t guarantee to myself that I won’t pursue stupid games, but I can promise myself that I’ll stop playing the game as soon as I realize it’s stupid.  There are only so many games we get to play.  So I’ll at least try to raise my game and play at a higher level.  A higher level where I’m not worried about prizes and how others play the game.  That seems a worthy pursuit.

       

    • April Snow

      Normally I’d react differently to snow in April. Normal years I’m thinking about spring and hurrying along in life. But normal seems quaint in 2020. So when I looked out the window in the early light of morning and saw a snow globe I shook my head in mock indifference. Whatever. I slipped on some boots and walked out into the snow fall. There’s magic in early morning snow, whether you welcomed it or not. It’s not like I’m commuting somewhere, or worried about clearing the driveway. My commute was over when I walked downstairs.

      So out in it, I soaked up the silence as the world shrunk to snow-coated trees and grass and soon me too as millions of flakes drifted out of the sky like salt from a shaker and clung to every surface. I inspected the bluebells and daffodils and saw they shrugged indifference to the affront. Let it snow. Indeed. The northern hemisphere has tilted back to the sun and this won’t last forever. Nothing lasts forever; not snow or pandemics or daffodils or us. Take what the day brings you and embrace it. For this too shall pass.