Category: travel

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counting the hours

Last night in Florida; this one’ll be a dirge.

We went to dinner with the family, sans a couple members who are down and out with a stomach bug.  We got together with a friends from years past who we haven’t seen in years (and, our kid played with the kids of our friends, in a series of surreal “Oh crap, I’m totally old” moments).  Sharaun and I even split up one night to canvas acquaintances, since we’ve got so many folks we like hanging with down here.

All in all though, and I know I’ve said this as many times as I’ve written over the past few Florida days, the visit felt as long as it was – which is actually a good thing, as we often end up feeling like we had too little time, even though the days numbered enough.

And now, back at the inlaws’ rambling ranch-style Florida, built strong in the old days with cinderblock and copper pipe and thick walls, Pop-pop started a fire to push the cold air back outside.  That’s right: It’s cold tonight in Florida.  In fact, the news said lows in the upper 30s, I think.  For the central Florida coast – that’s chilly.  It’s a pungent coastal oak burning, but the chimney has a good draft and all we get is a slow-moving comfy warmth.  Keaton’s fascinated by the fire, which isn’t entirely unexpected given her lineage.  Upon returning home, sated and loose, we all took turns warming while staring into the flames – it’s primal, you know, staring at fire… in our blood from those very first days.

It’s comfortable here; I’m beginning to wish we could stay longer still… because, really, what’s to get back to?

But, reality calls… it’s back to work on Thursday, and I won’t lie and say I haven’t been checking e-mail on the iPhone – because I have.  Even sent a response or five hither and thither.  It’s hard for me not too, I’m so connected to the place… umbilically tied to the sawmill, stuck at its teat even when away.  With the holiday week, doesn’t look like I missed much – so the ramp back into things shouldn’t be that bad.  Although, returning to the mill alone will surely defeat my vacationing spirit; just suck it right out and stomp on it.

And with that I think I’ll hang up the hat for tonight.  With thoughts of one more morning of Florida sun to wake to, we bid you adieu.  Goodnight.

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knocking the dust off

After a nice break from writing while we eased into Florida, I just wanted to stop by and knock the dust off sounds familiar.

So far, our trip to the balmy South has been just as I’d imagined.  Even as we met our ride at the airport and I took those first few breaths of sticky, clean, Florida air – I knew it would be a good week.  And, what’s better,  I haven’t felt that driven to write (you may find yourself asking, “Gee, what’s new Dave?,” but in reply to that I would tell you sternly to “Shut your mouth, smartypants.”).  I figured, however, that I better log on and say something lest folks think our plane wound up in the drink and thought us lost forever.  (Not so.)

Last night we met up with my oldest and bestest friend for a couple beers and two regret-consuming-even-while-consuming cigarettes.  Was a good time, trading stories to bring each other up to date on current goings-on and asking after family and old friends.  We hope to meet up with more long-lost friends as our time winds on this week, and have put out feelers to try and make sure we can do so.  At our age, we can actually use the pretense of “getting the kids together” to catch up with folks we haven’t seen in years and years and years (do we need pretense?).

Well, already this whole blogging thing is bringing me down… feeling tied to writing and such.  So, I’m gonna cut it loose here and give these scant paragraphs to the world before signing off.  I’m pretty sure I’ll do it again tomorrow, as the lazy, gluttonous pace of the holiday usually makes for a good writing mood.

Until then I hope you got where you’re going and with who you’re gonna be with for tomorrow’s day of thanksgiving.  Take care internet.

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looking south

Once upon a time, Spanish explorers flocked to the humid, flat swampland that is our current state of Florida in search of a fabled “fountain of youth.”

Now, near five-hundred years later, this Californian explorer is heading there in a day with similar goals in mind.

Not that I’d like to rewind my life, but rather that I’m looking forward to the restorative power that the Southern state has come to represent to me.  The older I get, and the longer away from the place I’ve been, the more I come to relish our time there.  The weather, the pace, the family and friends, the familiarity… the religion. And, on the other side of the coin, all the “nots” that go along with it being completely separated and across the country from home. Home with all its trappings of work and responsibility and stress.

There’s something about the air down there, like breathing water, like a having a nice steam.  There’s something about the people down there, sitting at Sharaun’s grandmother’s dinner table in the morning sharing coffee or catching a nap in my father-in-law’s chair.  More importantly, there’s something about me down there… something that relaxes inside me, something that either turns off or turns on – I’m not sure.  Whatever it is, I’ve come to almost idealize the place… and I look forward to spending time there more and more. This coming trip being no different – I’m ready to pack right now and get on a plane.

Let’s go; let’s go; let’s go.

Goodnight.

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flying, early

Hello Tuesday.

Sunday night I feel asleep on the couch around 8pm, so Sharaun tells me.  All I remember is her waking me around 11pm – I was really out, woke covered in sweat (an unfortunate byproduct of the first few hours of sleep for me).  It’s not like me to crash like this, but the extended slumber really felt great.

Anyway, you can blame that for the lack of writing last night.

My brain of late has been turning to our coming vacation, so much so that thoughts of getting out of Dodge on that appointed day had started to overtake my brain.  Combined with this, work has been in a strange limbo-like state for the past week, with ambiguity and uncertainty as the overriding theme each day.  It’s become somewhat of a drag, bringing me down by the end of each day and sending me home soured for the evening.

And so it was yesterday that I turned to the airline’s website to see if there might not be a comparably priced earlier flight to Florida.  Turns out there were tickets available at less than half what I payed when I bought our flights earlier this year, and they came with a four day extension our our five day vacation.  And, even after paying a whopping $300 in “change fees,” the airline owed us $240.

So, I’m happy to say we’ll be outta here earlier than planned and back later than planned, and will do it all for much less than we planned too – not much more you can ask for from a vacation modification…

It can’t come soon enough.  Goodnight.

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odd thing to be self conscious about

Hey Tuesday… how are you doing?  Me, I’m OK.

We totally turned on the heat today when we got home from Oregon – first time this year.  Was 64° in the house when we got home and I couldn’t handle it.  Especially since I had made up my mind that I’d be phoning in the afternoon shift at the sawmill from the couch rather than stick to my original plan of making my way into the office after our flight.  A guy’s entitled to change his mind, I do say.

Anyway, heat or on off, this house smells downright shut-up musty.  It’s like that not-quite-nasty but not fresh-cut roses smell that the closet sometimes takes on when the dirty clothes hamper has gone a little too long without attention.  Somehow, having the place shut up with no air circulating for just a few days spread a subtle funk not unlike that overfull hamper scent all around the house.  It’s really bugging me right now… and it nearly ruined my 5pm “just punched the clock” one-hour nap.  We gotta open some windows up in this mug.

Tonight we went up to the Wal Mart to pickup some sundries we’ve been out of while we’ve been traveling individually and together the past couple weeks.  Of course, because of the time change, when we left the house around 6pm it was pitch-black outside, like the dead of night.  For some reason, I feel like a bad person wheeling our two-and-a-half year old into a Wal Mart under the curtain of night.  Something about a toddler riding in a shopping cart at America’s biggest discount retailer while the color of the sky (rightfully or not) deems the young should be fast asleep in bed.  An odd thing to be self conscious about, no?

For a while now, a couple friends of mine have been urging me to read the book Into the Wild. With admonitions akin to, “Dave, you’d love that book man – this guy was a true modern-day tramp, outdoorsman, a real Kerouac kindred-spirit.”  Well, last night Sharaun happened on the DVD of the movie-adaptation at my folks’ place.  Since she’d been wanting to see it for a while, we popped it in and settled back for the flick. Now, first off – I truly enjoyed the movie.  Second, holy crap what a sad ending.  I mean, at the end of that movie I felt drained… Not like Schindler’s List sad, but sad nonetheless.  As we climbed into bed, I told Sharaun I felt like scooping Keaton out of her little closet-room and hugging her tight.  Sad sad sad.

OK then, that’s a night for me.  Love ya, until later.

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mushrooms in the lawn

Happy Friday internets.  Sorry I skipped a couple days this week, but, you know… so it goes.

I’m remote desktop’d into my PC at home in California to write this entry.  For some reason, that’s awesome to me.  And, if by the preceding sentence it wasn’t clear, we arrived safe and sound in Oregon Wednesday night – where we were greeted by Grammy & Grampa and the familiar cold, wet welcome the Pacific Northwest.  Oregon is a gorgeous place, I just don’t know if I could deal with all those months of rain.

I think Keaton enjoys hanging out with her grandparents though.  When we’ve been here in the past, we’ve put her down to sleep in a pack-n-play in the large walk-in-closet in the guest room we stay in.  It may sound kinda funny, keeping her in a closet, but the space is big enough to be a “room” proper and it has a separate door we can close to give her some peace.  Anyway, sometime between the last time we were here and now, my folks actually transformed the closet into a little Keaton room.  It comes complete with her name on the door, Backyardigans stickers plastered all over the wall, a bookshelf with books, and a little kid-sized bed.  Now, that may seem even more funny… a converted closet-room… and perhaps it is – but the novelty now more than makes up for the therapy later.

Anyway… she seems to lover her own little space.  So, don’t call CPA OK?

Work today (yesterday as you read) was abominable.  I came here this week primarily for one two-hour meeting.  I had been dreading this meeting all week.  Not because it was going to be particularly challenging or difficult or anything… but moreso because it was going to be a stressful thing for me.  It’s hard to explain, but when I know I have to share a strongly held opinion of mine that’s counter to what the commonly held opinion of the group is – I get all stressed about making my point succinctly and eloquently enough to be as influential as I want.  Anyway, the meeting blew… but not for the reasons I just mentioned… blew though, nonetheless.

Forget it… I’m outta here.  I just have nothing to write and all I can do is sit here thinking about how much I wish it was Friday (remember, I write the night before).

Goodnight.

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everybody is different kinds of smart

Here I am on Wednesday night suffering miserably from what I’m positive is a sinus infection, something that’s been killing me now for about four days – and that is finally dragging me stubbornly to the doctor tomorrow.  Enough is enough, I tell this foreign species trying to make me its host.

My two days across the state were long, sniffly, and uncomfortable because of this stupid sickness.  As I sat in line waiting to board the company jet bound homeward, sniffling and hacking and blowing my nose, the guy next to me pulled a bottle of that Airborne snakeoil from his bag and popped one.  I couldn’t blame him…

Where I work I’m surrounded by smart people.  I interact daily with people who have gobs more brainpower than I do, so intelligence is something I feel like I’ve come to take a bit for granted.  Because of this, when I meet someone who stands out above the normal din of firing synapses I encounter daily, it’s something I take note of.  Over the past couple days, I met a guy like that.  Not an engineer, but a finance guy.  Talked miles above me, talked about things that made no sense to me, “betas to the market,” and “the earnings ratios of S&P500 companies,” and how the treasury and federal reserve and interest rates and securities work.  It’s like the guy stepped right out of a Bohemian Club weekend for a few days to rub elbows with the serfs.

I like meeting people like that.  It’s humbling.  And, while this guy likely wasn’t trying to, he had me walking the tightrope at the edge of my conversancy.  I was hanging on by my fingernails, jumping in when I thought I could make a comment that wouldn’t immediately illuminate my comparative ignorance.  The beers and lobster helped; I can talk about beer and lobster.  I can wax about the Dow dropping forty points over the course of my waffle at breakfast.  I can tell you how many takes it took the Beatles to record “Hey Jude,” and from which of those recordings the version you know from the radio was assembled.  I can tell you my best-known-method for calming down a seemingly inconsolable two and a half year old girl who wants to play “for a couple more minutes” before taking her nap.

I guess everybody is different kinds of smart.

Goodnight.