Today's the fourth day since the man-trip officially ended. I'm still not 100% right. A little cloudy...a bit achey...not interested in eating any chili or ingesting any food grease or drinking any alcohol of any sort at all.
This is more than likely the main week during the entire year that I think about "balance" more than I generally do. And that's quite a bit. Balance, I believe, is the key to good livin'. The man-trip is very good livin', but perhaps a tad too much crammed into two and a half days--especially when the fishing sucks. I've written about the man-trip before, but I'll refresh you with the cliff notes. Thursday afternoon through Saturday night, sometime in the fall, when the fishing used to be good before the river went to shit, six or seven or eight of us gentlemen convene on a particular river in a particular river house and eat and drink the most delicious things we can think of. It's pure gluttony. We fish, we bullshit, we cook and eat, we play poker, we listen to fantastic music, and we drink cheap clear liquor and expensive brown. It's wonderful. But I'm old now, and my body does not recover as well as It used to--even though I'd like to think I know my limitations at this stage in my life (I don't). My brain stays fuzzy, my motor skills are laughable, and body wants to do absolutely nothing. And that is when this story circles back around to "balance". I just got back from the gym. In the last three days I've eaten two salads (that is generally my quota for the year), and I still am done drinking for a while--which is totally relative. This example of balance is just that--an example. I need to reboot before I sample delectable, decadent, delicious ingestibles again. Just like someone might need a weekend at a winery instead of working non-stop to make dollars...relax that brain. Or someone who works out vigorously 2-3 times a day everyday may want to take a week off and just go for lovely walks outdoors...let your body heal. You know who you are. The pendulum will normally swing pretty heavily in one direction over the other, at least in my case. That's just how I've always been. Not saying I can't change that, and maybe I will someday. But for now, trying to balance health and fun, body and brain, creative and analytical, is something that need to happen in life. There's a 98.6% chance that I'll never be that guy that exercises more than anyone you know. And I don't want to be that guy. He's fairly unlikable. But I'll go to the gym and do my old man exercises, walk a mile or two, stretch that horrid spinal cord out. I owe it to my two little kids to have a dad that can play, and wrestle, and give piggyback rides, and hike, and fish with them. Not just drink three glasses of whisky after 4:45pm because I've had a long day. "Not just" being key in that sentence. Do what you wanna do--who am I to preach health and wellness? Unlikable, remember? For me, though, balance allows me to do a little bit of everything. Everything I want to do, at least. Not like meth, or anything. -earl
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As I drink my mid-grade, maintenance whiskey, I feel a burn while smiling, listening to "Dance The Night Away". My lips are worn from sun and wind and have cracked a bit. That slight burn made me smile even wider, realizing that I'm drinking whiskey, listening to Van Halen, watching a campfire, and worn from days in the elements. That ain't a bad burn.
I just put my kids to bed. We talked about family, spending time outside together, and other important topics. Ruby said I smelled like campfire, but didn't kick me out of her room, like her mother would have. I write about this plenty, but It's my life. I raise two kids, primarily. My wife works very hard for the lion's share of our income, which will never go unnoticed. I spend a ton of time with said kids, especially the boy, who's in school just a handful of hours a week right now. I'm tired, too. But today, I wondered if this moment in my life--this half-dozen years or so, being a Mister Mom would be one those times that one looks back on gloriously. It's real easy to get caught up in the "right now" and not appreciate what now offers. But I found myself dearly enjoying the discrete things that I might otherwise overlook if I'd not had this epiphany. I watched my 7yr old daughter gallop, skip, and sing her way back from the neighborhood playground from our backyard. I witnessed my 4yr son showing off for nine pre-teen girls in the park, while they all chanted, "Go Hank! Go Hank! Go Hank!" I believe he was showing them how fast he could run around trees. I smiled, and my lip hurt. It was a great hurt. Tomorrow I get to work my first and second jobs simultaneously. Stay-at-home Dad/Barbecue Guy. Not my fist rodeo, but it should be a fun one. Wake up, put shitty clothes on...start a fire, make coffee, season the butts, "Shit, they're up already?"...turn on cartoons, "Brush your teeth!", peel 10 racks of ribs, rub them, put the butts on, dress the kids, drink lots of coffee, yell at kids, "Stay away from the fire!"...dice onions, mince garlic, start beans...maintain fire, spritz butts, lay large log on coals......take kids to doctor for flu shots.................hoping fire is okay.............get home and assess butt situation, start fire in big smoker, throw ribs on, "Get along, or there will ZERO ice cream for a week! I'm serious!", maintain fire, baste ribs, "Dad, we want some brown sugar!!" "No, it's for the barbecue!"..."Okay, just a pinch."....I'm a pushover. Wrap ribs, warm butts, warm ribs...Then April gets home. Exhale. Pour strong drink. Repeat several times. God, I love it. An old buddy of mine, Matt Hornbeck, told me once as we were discussing what the hell we should do with our lives, "Do what makes you feel alive inside." Well man, here I am. I remember that statement. And I appreciate you. I feel alive. I feel grateful. My wife is legendary. My kids are ridiculous. Not gloating, not bragging, just reaffirming in my mind...when I feel like I'm just about to lose it, that this is my reality, and it fucking rules. Time for a bit more whisk to burn that cracked lip. Apparently that's what makes you feel alive inside. |
AuthorI am Earl. Archives
May 2024
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