1) I think it’s nuts that June has arrived already. This year is attempting to zip past like it’s trying to prevent bad things happening to Marty McFly. It seems just yesterday that I was at the end of tax season, and now here I am looking at Midsummer.
Hey, calendar, knock off these shenanigans! I have things to do! (Things. Like the mountain of laundry, the mountain of LARP laundry, the cleaning of the bar, the fixing of the ceiling fan light, the bathroom grout, the...well, you get the picture.)
2) I think I’m having fun with writing, even though you haven’t seen it here. I’ve been picked up by a local publication, writing humorous beer articles. The Venn diagram is one perfect circle between their needs and my interests. It’s a happy thing.
It’s also a paid gig, which is pretty cool as well. I’m trading words for shiny rocks, and whereas I will not be getting rich on this project, it will pay for the beer I research and, in turn, write about.
3) I think Little Danger is a fucking rock star. He’s about to turn 4, and it’s been a great ride so far. I am in awe of how often he smiles, how much he cares, and the way we share the world together. Rock. Star.
I had the fun and awesome experience of drumming with him again recently, and this time he strapped on his little drum and stood next to me for a good half hour as we pounded out some rhythms. Watching him dance around with a ton of friends was also especially endearing, and a level of magical silliness I’ve not witnessed in 21 years of drumming at that location. Of course, I’m biased. And I feel not one ounce of shame about it. (Though that sentence fragment did get a twitch out of my inner grammar police. As did that one.)
4) I think hitting 40 has not been in any way as “bad” as some had led me to expect. I feel like I’m hitting my stride. I work out more than I ever have before; I still lead the pack on hikes and battles (when fighting with foam). I just don’t feel the need for a mid-life crisis at all. I’m thinking about penciling it in for my 52nd birthday.
Given that this year Wifefish, the Kushies, and I have started restoring a cabin built in 1797, I have a completely different perspective on age than once I did. When you’re working on lumber that was stacked together almost 220 years ago, 40 seems downright juvenile. Although it is refreshing to realize that modern life expectancy makes me quite likely to hit a century. I have a goal, people. Now get off my lawn!
5) I think, as I reflect further on point 4 there, that history can be completely awesome. In researching the time period of the cabin’s construction, I found some amazing provenance, a journal written by a man who traveled with the cabin’s original owner. I know the exact date the first log was laid, the experiences they had getting to that point, and even what they hunted for that first morning. (Bear. Motherfucking black bears hunted by chopping down their tree and shooting them when they hit the ground, hopefully before they mauled your face off. Pioneer living was not for the weak.)
I also discovered some roots in my family that I hadn’t been able to find previously, and traced my line back to those same gentlemen. It turns out I have direct ties to the battle of Point Pleasant, and to the American Revolution. I’ve a long ago cousin who was a bona fide, grade A badass. It’s made me look at my skill set and think about adding some of those primitive living skills I’ve always thought about, but never bothered to work on. It’s started with cabin-building, now I’m going to look at some true woodscraft to enjoy with Little Danger as he grows. Why not?
I hope you, dear reader, have a great day. So…what do you think?