LOW BATTERY BLUES

So much to do

Battery about to die

No charger in sight

Why even try?

No joke, I’m listening to a NPR story about North Korea and the expert says, “They limit their citizens to 1,500 calories per day.  Just enough to work, not enough to protest the government.”

Um, my diet has me on 1,500 calories per day.  Somehow the “North Korean Diet” lacks that sort of “I wanna give it a go” sound to it.

When this is your first product of the day…

You know that you had best stick to writing and leave these complex equations to the math professionals.

#MoreCoffeePlease

A light in the living room was flickering.  Actually, more like pulsating.

What to do? (Wait!  Here comes my “Bad Idea of the Night.”) Stare at it, of course.  Bright idea, Dave.

I saw the light and now I see spots, too.

Yesterday was on the less chilly side, so I ventured outside.  Outside to do a nasty task.  Outside to pick up the dog poop unearthed by melting snow.

As I walked around in the backyard, with my garden spade in hand, I looked a bit like Yukon Cornelius bound and determined to find gold.  Oh, how I wish it was gold.

Back and forth.  Back and forth, I traveled over the slush.  Slush resting on ice.  Ice covering a thawing soggy Earth.

It was unpleasant.  The task.  The terrain.  The whole experience.  Then I remembered Spring.

Yes, Spring would soon be at hand.  Glorious, beautiful days, when the snow would finally be gone and my feet would land on uncovered grass.

Soon, better days would be with us.  Slog across a few more frozen days and sure enough, the world will be born anew.

Years ago, I graduated from the University of Michigan.  As a result, I cheer for the Wolverines in all sports.  Last night, it was basketball, as Michigan played the University of Houston in the NCAA Tournament.

The game started at a late hour (sometime around 9 o’clock) and we watched the first half.  Now, I’m not a basketball aficionado, but I was unimpressed.  Unimpressed by both teams.  Unimpressed for the entire 20 minutes of uninspired play.  The half ended with the score tied at something like 19-19 or something pitiful like that and all of my family had started to fall asleep.

So I left the television during halftime and sometime thereafter I checked the score on my phone.  Michigan trailed by a point or two.  I carried on with my life.  I checked again a little later.  Michigan continued to trail by a few points.  It continued in this fashion again and again and again.

The clock continued to click.  I continued to grow more and more tired.  I continued to check.  Michigan continued to trail.

My phone said that Michigan was down by two points with three seconds left.  It was thirty minutes to midnight.  I was tired.  I did not have it left in me.  No energy remained to watch my team lose.  No energy left to watch another season end with a loss.  It was too late for that kind of sadness.  I was just too tired.

I checked my phone one last time and Michigan had… WON!  By a single point.  What?  How?  I clicked on the video and saw an amazing play.  A long distance three point shot, as the buzzer sounded.  I had missed an incredible finish and was watching the result that took place just minutes ago.

Was I disappointed in myself?  A tad.  Was I tired?  Yep, a lot.  Was I just plain old?  Certainly.  Old enough to have seen too many sad endings.  Old enough to not want that feeling again.  Old enough to forgive myself for not wanting any more sadness.  Old enough to forgive myself for missing a great play as it happened.  Old enough to drift off with a smile on my face.

The good guys had won and that’s all that mattered.

“Corned Beef”

You lack the corn,

you’re really all beef.

You like to pair with cabbage,

your corn reference all too brief.

February 21 – I had a piece of paper that needed three different signatures in three different buildings.  To me, it sounded perfect for interoffice mail.  To my colleagues, it sounded like a fool’s errand.

I wrote instructions.  I put it in an envelope, said a little prayer, and sent it on its way.

Early March – My colleagues expressed concern.  Where had the document gone?  I said not to worry, have faith.

March 16 – It had been 23 days.  A lifetime for interoffice mail travel.  We needed the document.  My faith was shaken.  My colleagues were concerned.

I jotted a few instant messages.  Was the envelope sitting abandoned in a forgotten stack of mail?  Had it been tossed to the side?

I typed more messages and soon a possibility arose.  Rumor was that the document was on its way home.  We still had our doubts.  We made our backup plans.  We prepared ourselves for the worst, the seemingly inevitable, life without the lost document.  Only a rumor of hope remained.

4 hours later – Something amazing happened.  Something almost unbelievable.  My boss announced that the document had returned home.  All signed and in good order, our tensions eased.

I felt shame.  Why had I lost faith four hours short of the end?  Why had I ceased to believe?

Then a peace washed over me and a smile crossed my face.  That doubt should not be considered shameful, but rather an unexpected gift.  Doubt was something that made success that much sweeter, for success after fear feels that much better, than success that was guaranteed all along.

You can stuff that truism in an interoffice envelope and send it on its way.  Just don’t hold your breath.

On the bright side, it was warm enough tonight to break out the grill (40 degrees and sunny, I’ll take it).

On the down side, I sorta burned one side of the quesadillas (I served them non-burned side up and said a little prayer, I hide it).

On the deceitful side, dinner received overall good reviews (I grilled outside and almost without incident, I’ll take it).

Pausing in the hallway, I stopped and listened.

Upstairs was a loud pounding, my eldest son slamming a mini basketball in his little brother’s room.  Slam!  Slam!

My middle son plucking away at his viola.  “Ode to Joy” filling the ears.  Pluck! Pluck!

In the kitchen, my youngest son taking his turn at washing dishes.  Slosh!  Slosh!

A lot of noise, but together something beautiful and just the way it should be.