Evening Ramble

This is going to be one of those evening blogs where I sit down to write with no real purpose in mind. I have the time tonight, really just want to see my mind in front of me. Had I not made a Costco run, I might have started earlier without the fog of near beditme in my head. The Costco run was necessary, though, a voyage of importance — my favorite dark roast coffee pods ran out this past week. I have been forced to drink the overly strawberry-ish chocolate coffee I bought at Menards (on one of my rebellious visits without my wife). It’s not that the coffee is bad. As a matter of fact, it’s pretty good, but that coffee is not an every day coffee. The bold dark roast I normally drink is a comfort each morning, especially on those mornings that I work from home and get to take extra time blending into the day. I like it overly sweet, with four packets of Splenda, drink it slowly at first, the warmth of the large ceramic mug in my hand enhancing the mellow that so often characterizes my morning. Our condo faces northeast, and I like the view of the sunrise through the large sliding glass doors in our living room.

Funny as it may seem, I am already looking forward to the morning. Oh wait, my revelry will have to wait until Thursday, as tomorrow is one of my commute to work days. My office is nearly 40 miles away, in the far south Chicago suburb of Tinley Park. I pop out of bed (contrary to what Lisa says — she says I shuffle in the morning) promptly at 5:30 AM or earlier if I decide to get up earlier, am out the door before 6. The first part of my commute is on I-88 east to 355 south, a bit hairy until my little Subaru crosses over I-55, the traffic less dense until I get to I-80. Even with the traffic, the Subie rarely drops below 80 mph, and the commute is an easy 35-40 minutes. One of the treats this time of year is watching the sun begin to creep up. When I back into my spot at the office, the morning is fresh, with dawn’s light in its glory as I trudge from my car to the five story building I work in.

My perspective on work is beginning to change. Retirement is no longer just a thought, it’s a reality that I realize will be here before I know it. Lisa wants me to retire at 65. She is two years older than I am, so it makes sense to retire together. I really like that idea. With retirement in mind, my approach to my job is different. There is no real reason for me to want to do another job, to push for a promotion or more money. I am good at my job, take satisfaction in that, am getting the recognition and respect that comes to someone my age, my experience something that is appreciated. In some respects, I have to say it was a long time coming, but maybe that respect is something I had to earn over the years. Today, I interviewed one of the prospects intended to round out the five person team I work with. My boss has had me doing that, wants me to give the potential employees a chance to speak with someone who is doing the job they may be doing. It’s fun for me. The first interview I did was a phone interview, at my desk with my boss listening over my shoulder, and he got a huge chuckle when I told the person I was interviewing that they would get along in the company just fine as long as they weren’t a deadbeat. I am required to use that line with every person I interview now.

Tomorrow also is the start of a two day onboarding class. It’s intended to be a refresher for me. Also, it’s an opportunity to meet some of the people I never see but support on a day to day basis. I like that in a bit of a selfish way. Those people usually express their appreciation, make me feel like I am a big deal. That’s not a bad thing, I guess, and I think my boss has me attend the classes more for the opportunity to further the relationships with our sales people. I take advantage of that opportunity, as once people meet me face to face, it makes it even easier to deal with them afterwards. The extrovert in me also gets a lot of energy from the interaction.

Time to stop my writing for the evening. It almost felt like little walk around the block as I wrote. Lisa is getting ready for bed right now, showering and getting into her pajamas. While I wash my face, brush my teeth and shave, she settles in under the covers and waits for me with the covers pulled up to her nose. I get in bed, give her the nightly back rub while we watch a little bit of Home Town (we love the Napiers) or Fixer Upper (Chip and Joanna are fun to watch). I usually fall asleep rubbing her back, am shaken back awake by Lisa telling me it’s time to put my CPAP mask on.

Good night…….

Exposure of the Indecent Kind

Over the years, bicycling has exposed me to many things, most very good, some out of place. As I was out for a leisurely pedal through the forest preserve close to my home this past Sunday, I came upon something that made me pause in a ‘surely that is not what I think I see’ way. Of course, I had to grab my cell phone out of the handy portable phone pocket in my vest. It wasn’t warm, wasn’t cold. The vest was zipped up, however. From what I could see, not all humans were as concerned about the cool autumn weather.

As I got closer, THONG, it hit me. I told myself to pedal faster, after snapping another quick picture. The moon came out early this past Sunday. It was the beginning of daylight savings time, I suppose, and the light of day was beginning to wane.

He was friendly, said hello as a whizzed past. The forest preserve path takes a jaunt around a large marsh just past the point of exposure. I took my time riding the path around the marsh. That path goes around the marsh, then takes me back the way I came on the way home. Hopefully, moon man would be long gone. Just when I thought the coast was clear, the moon appeared ahead of me again. I caught a glimpse of the guy’s face as I passed — and the guy must have been in his late sixties! The guy was also very tall. He looked a bit perturbed as I passed this time, didn’t say hello. I am glad he wasn’t a fast runner.. or maybe I am not so glad.

Don’t thank me for sharing this one. I know you want to.

Just Say Gnome

Since when did these.. things… become the thing? Albeit they are a little cute, but, geeze, not THAT cute. My wife is going gnome crazy, an obsession of sorts, and I am threatening to put her on a gnome limit. As I speak into this blog, she is out with a friend, at the outlet mall, where she sent me the picture.

Just walk away slooooooowly was my response.

I just happened to be at Menards, a no no for me, as it’s one of our date night favorites. In an effort to show my appreciation of her gnomish predilection, I also responded with some teaser gnome pictures.

Heh heh heh. HEH HEH HEH. Tee hee. I feel very dastardly, although I might not feel so much dastardly when she gets home.

Heyyyyyy, where are you?

I feigned innocence. Home? All of those gnomes magically showed up at our house, then left.

That may have prompted her to make a visit to Hobby Lobby. I get lost when we go to Hobby Lobby, usually decide I need a potty break. It’s not my favorite place, second only to Target. Thankfully, she thinks Menards is cool.

I foresee some gnome torture about to happen in the not so distant future.

Question of the Day

What would it be like if the world wasn’t crazy?

It might be boring.

There wouldn’t be any political ads.

Donald Trump would be president of another planet.

No one would be too extreme for Illinois.

Kyrie Irving wouldn’t have to apologize. No one would be offended simply because they don’t agree.

Cub fans would not exist.

School curriculum would be reading, writing and arithmetic with gender identity left up to nature’s teaching.

Kanye West would suddenly disappear in a puff of smoke.

The Bachelor would pick one nice non supermodel and we would watch as he courts her every week.

Truth would be valued, not despised.

Toot

I come from a family that loves to create music. My mother was a gifted pianist. Dad absolutely loves to sing, is the voice over everyone in the church congregation during the worship time. Mark, my brother, has a degree in piano performance. My daughter plays many instruments as a music teacher.

I toot my horn.

When I was ten years old, I jumped at the chance to learn an instrument and play in the fifth grade ‘Foo Foo’ band. Shamed by the band director, my parents purchased that shiny Conn Connstellation you see in my hands. Fifty years later, it’s still a beautiful instrument, the nickel finish still bright. There are scratches, for sure, but the horn plays well. Off and on over the years, I have picked my horn up and played, mostly for church events and services. Playing is still fun for me.

After a few years lay off, I am tooting again. Next month, I am leading a brass ensemble playing Christmas carols for a dinner at the church I attend. Organizing the ensemble has not been fun. As a matter of fact, it has been a challenge coaxing people to pick up their instrument again and play. It takes some confidence to play in public when it’s been a while. Never one to be shy, confidence isn’t a problem for me. Of course, experience has taught me that playing the horn, even if only in marginal shape to play, is something that people appreciate hearing. Christmas music is easy, I have told most of the people I have asked to play. It is easy, a perfect chance to begin playing again.

It’s also been a challenge getting the staff at church to support my efforts. I have been a member of the church for almost a year, not much time, and I still don’t know that many people. When I volunteered to organize the brass ensemble, I asked a staff person if a request for volunteer musicians could be included in the weekly church email blast, maybe in the Sunday morning announcements. The staff person refused, gave me two names of people who might play an instrument, encouraged me to find musicians on my own. His reaction was discouraging, made my task quite bit more difficult than it should have been. I asked around, have found several people willing to consider playing, but not really many willing to commit. However, my daughter knows someone in the area who teaches french horn at a local music store. That person will play in the ensemble and will provide the other musicians needed to fill out the ensemble. I will have to pay them. I guess that will be my tithe for the month! I did talk to the young man who is the worship pastor at the church. He volunteered to purchase the music, but it took him nearly a week to respond to my email, and he responded only after I followed up twice. Church stuff isn’t always easy.

I am happy to be tooting again.

(oops, I am definitely getting old…just realized I wrote about this a month ago!!!!)

Am I Strong?

You don’t know how much I appreciate what you did today. You really showed me what a wonderful man you are. I saw your strength, you character, and I am so glad God has given you to me

She said that with her arms wrapped tightly around me, tears in her eyes, the gratitude expressed in a way I have been waiting for, probably for decades. I received it from my wife, the one person in my life I really need to hear that from. Do I remember her words exactly? No, but it’s the intent of the words that mean the most to me. Her gratitude, the validation she so sweetly gave to me, tastes better than any meal I will ever consume. I will cherish that moment for the rest of my life.

I was tired. So was she. We had just arrived home after helping her son move into a third floor apartment, an all day affair that had started early last Saturday morning. He was struggling, having made the difficult decision of leaving his girlfriend the week before, and desperately needed support. Moving day had come and he really wasn’t prepared except for having the apartment leased. I texted him early in the morning, asked if he had reserved a moving van or truck. He hadn’t, so I told him I would go find a van for the move, meet him at the storage unit where he had stashed his things. Saturday morning is not really the time to try to find a moving van, but I was fortunate, found the last van available at the local UHaul. The kicker was that it needed to be returned by 4 PM, as it was reserved at that time. It only gave us a few hours to get him moved into his place.

We got it done. I pushed, wouldn’t let anyone quit. Several times during the day, Lisa remarked at the benefit my mountain biking has on me. I literally pushed the dresser and a few of the larger items up the stairs. I returned the van to the rental with 15 minutes to spare. I came back to the apartment, helped set up the bed frame, a computer desk, and a few other items. The day required me to flex my muscle in more ways than one, my strength needed by example as much or more than physical strength. I’m proud of myself, but what really boosted my confidence was the pride she expressed to me.

I don’t want to abuse your grace, (but) Lord I need it every day. It’s the only thing that ever really makes me want to change.

Your forgiveness is like sweet, sweet honey on my lips, like the sound of a symphony to my ears

• from the song Holy Water by We the Kingdom

If ever I understood my need for God’s grace, His forgiveness, it is now. If ever I saw how great His grace is for me, it is now. My entire life has been one constant demonstration of God’s grace to me. God has proven to me that grace is mine even during a time after a divorce, a time where I have felt I deserve it the least. I have been provided someone who shows me what God’s grace is, a partner who so kindly gives me her own form of grace every day. She loves me as I am, just as God does. As the song says, it’s the only thing that ever really makes me want to change.

Lisa put this up on the wall of our bedroom recently. I like it!