She was like most others, a little sexy, a little crazy and a whole lot of unpredictable. Irene could have been a real big mess for us. We were lucky, no trees fell on our house, no massive floods (though we live on high ground) and only the inconvenience of a power outage. And let me tell you it is an inconvenience at worst.
Dad would be celebrating today.
He was horrified to see his brethren die on that tragic day when the towers collapsed. We talked in the days after the events of 9/11 about the job that the men of FDNY were doing. I could hear the pain in his voice.
As a nation, we rallied around each other. Many of us reacted in ways that we didn’t fully understand. In retrospect everything seems different. Ten years of war and a recession have changed my views. Becoming a father has changed my views. Meeting my wife changed my views.
I honestly don’t know how I feel about the death of Osama Bin Laden. It’s almost meaningless to me. There is an entire army of new recruits that has been formed over the past ten years. And now to find out that he’s been “hiding” in a populated area?
I cannot celebrate. The chest thumping is ugly.
I long for a day when the “threat level” is not orange. What will a day that is “green” be like? Will we ever see one?
When will it be safe to move on?
April is a blur.
I’ve been keeping insane hours since the beginning of the month. Each week has been wall to wall busy with different projects, trips, and me bouncing from one meeting to another with barely any downtime to actually do any of the work that I need to do.
I’ve been down to Florida, for a day trip. Out to Virginia for nearly a week, and out to Sunnyvale, CA for a whirlwind trip consisting of two full days of travel for a single day of meetings.
As this week comes to a close, I’m excited about the fact that I have completed my part of a large proposal (save any last minute edits that need to occur over the weekend — I’m hoping for none, but doubt that will work out) and to have knocked off a list of 15 “action items” throughout the day.
I’m actually finishing the week with a clean slate for next week. I’ve got a chance to breath.
And that’s what I’m gonna do. Breathe in the air, the smell of soaked wet ground, and enjoy a few minutes of solitude.
Unplugging won’t do in this age of wireless and 3G, what’s needed is a shutdown, a black out. Maybe a lead suit that will protect me from all forms of communications.
It’s been a long three weeks. Even on this dark and rainy afternoon though, I finally see a bit of light.
I’m headed toward that light.
Six-thirty comes early on a Saturday. Rolling over and going back to sleep takes a bit of resistance. Not quite strength, but nothing short of strong will.
As the alarm went off this morning I realized two things — this was the second time I’ve set an alarm since leaving Discovery and I really hate WYPR on a Saturday morning. I hit the snooze button. It was only natural. 
Eight minutes later, I something clicked. I’d known that the reason for the alarm was to get up to ride, but to be honest, I wasn’t really sure I wanted to get out of bed and meet the peloton when the alarm first went off. I could certainly ride on my own as I did a few weekends ago. But something clicked, and I got myself out of bed and scrambled into a pair of bibs and a jersey.
Since, I’d stayed in bed for an extra eight minutes, I really didn’t have time to make coffee. I grabbed an energy bar and a banana, filled the water bottles with Gatorade and headed to the shed. Walking out the door, I looked at the thermometer. 58F. More »
I was about to write a long winding post about my constant obsessing for changing things, but I don’t have that energy right now. And I doubt that you’ve got the energy to read it anyway. Instead I’m just going to say that I’m sitting in my dining room, drinking good coffee and listening to unseasonable cool rain landing on the roof of my house.
The raindrops make music as they hit the roof – some are big some are small, some are fast, others slow…it is a rolling and ever changing song of percussion for my ears this morning.
The house is quiet. No television blaring in the other room. No children screaming. Only the sound of the rain, and my keyboard clicking away as I write a few lines celebrating the day.
I need to celebrate more often. Celebrating the moments is key to living a happy life. I’m going to resolve to keep these words by my bedside and read them each morning:
Waking up this morning, I smile.
Twenty-four brand new hours are before me.
I vow to live fully in each moment
and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.
–Tich Nhat Hanh
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