Relaxation when you can…


The usual sticky pad with cryptic notes for last Monday's letter to the kids. It will be posted on Sept. 20.

There are times from the past couple of months when its been a real struggle to decompress.

A hundred or so posts ago, I went off on a tangent on how extraordinarily relaxing Monday letters (any letter for that matter) were for me.  It’s even more so now.  You grab moments of relaxation when you can.

I’m no shrink, but you don’t need to lay prone on an office couch at $125/hour to know internalization is not a good thing.  Get it out, and get it out often.  Ellen and Reid have felt the brunt of the getting out.  None of it has been down-for-the-count stuff.  Rather, its more here’s-where-I-am-at-the-moment, plus the oft-mentioned assurance that things ultimately will be okay and whatever course I’m now on is just another detour toward whatever is at the end of the (job) road.

I dawdled on the Monday letter and took my own sweet time.  Whereas it was formerly a six to 10 minute sprint, now I’m trying to figure out how to stretch the pleasurable part to 15 minutes.  From there, I’ll aim for 20.

——————

You know what Wednesday means.  Another blast from the past.

September 6, 2004

Hey, you guys:

Reid, honestly, we were glad you used the fire pit when your friends were over here.  Really, it was all good fun and food (usually paid for by us) and everyone seemed to have a good time telling stories and swapping lies.  We didn’t ask a lot in return (other than everyone’s car keys.)  Still, imagine our dismay when, after months of sitting underneath the green plastic cover, what to our wondering eyes should appear but a mold encrusted, stinky, half-charred and decaying pizza box PLUS several shrapnel-ized cans of Guiness that look as if they were exploded by cherry bombs.  Next time, just make sure you empty the fire pit of illicit or funky contents.  Oh yeah, and make sure you tell us when the BBQ tank is empty.

Finally, the Harley has passenger pegs.  What an ordeal.  Part of my own making, part of the dealership’s fault.  Without exaggeration, I made 6 or 7 separate trips to get parts, only to learn that there was still one more minor piece (such as a chrome washer) that was needed.  Geez, now it’s all together.

We were watching TV last night – I was watching, your mom was only partly watching – when a show came on about Kyle Petty’s bike ride across the U.S. to raise funds for children’s hospitals.  ‘Wow’, I thought, ‘that’s neat.  I could be part of a good cause and ride across the country.’  So, this morning I go to his web site.  The cost of a solo rider to take part: $10,000.  I guess I’ll be riding alone.

We ventured on the wild side this weekend by borrowing Holly and Dana’s two person kayak.  We wanted to float the river but decided our maiden voyage would be on the lake in West Des Moines.  It was quite a bit of fun, but the water was super yucky.  We did see lots of birds and stuff.  All the fish had 3 eyes, that’s how bad the water was.  People were fishing but who would want to eat anything out of gunk you can’t see two inches down?  We’ll do more wild stuff next weekend when we go camping with the __________ and everyone else at Lake Keohma.

Spur of the moment events are few and far between but we went over to the ______’s on Friday night to celebrate Stacy’s 46th.  It was a lot of fun.  When you get older, you tend to celebrate more because you know you’re on the downward slide.

I’ve tried to call the “Your 2¢ Worth” column repeatedly, but the mailbox says it’s full.  I was going to leave the message that ‘Hey, I know what the “W” stands for on all those car stickers: Wrong.”  Get it?  If the paper ever runs it, you’ll be the first to get autographed copies.

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Filed under Adult Children, Creativity, Writing to adult children

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