The Flavor of My Thanksgiving

"I like vending machines, because snacks are better when they fall. If I buy a candy bar at the store, oftentimes I will drop it so that is achieves its maximum flavor potential."
- Mitch Hedberg

I wonder how many movies have been made about a relatively normal person who goes home for the Holidays and has to deal with their crazy family. It seems that every Holiday season there is a movie that fits into this category. Does Art imitate Life or is it the other way around? Hard to say.

My Thanksgiving was a relatively dry one, meaning little to no alcoholic consumption. A little social lubrication is always nice, but it seems that most of the time my family members over lubricate and goes straight to "slippery" territory. The only people drinking at this Thanksgiving were my sister, her boyfriend, my mom and myself. We each had one drink. The rest of the people breaking bread with us are either under the legal drinking age significantly, or are working a Program of some sort, i.e. AA.

We make it through appetizers, and are half way through dinner when my sister says the following to one of our guests: "You're still a relatively young man, retiring at sixty and all. What do you like to do with your time now that your retired?" It's proper dinner table conversation, maybe the most innocuous sort of question there is.

"Well, for the most part I just have a lot of sex." Please note, this guest has not had a drop of alcohol in a very long time. In addition, his lady friend was with him and this comment didn't get a rise out of her. She just continued to mix her corn with her potatoes and eat away.

Did things get worse from there? Hard to say. I was having a fun time, but I am sure that the twelve year old at the table was sort of confused or shocked to hear her great-uncle refer to himself as "a pointer and a shouter" in the subsequent sentences. And as our guest got further from the dry land of appropriate conversation I had the most crystalline thought: "The only thing that could make this situation any more entertaining is if I had Jerome the Barber here at this table to add to the flavor of this holiday." Now that would have been something.

Namaste

Taking Inventory - 2008

"The inventory goes down the elevator every night."
- Fairfax Cone

"After spending half my life acquiring possessions I had a moment of clarity, reaching this simple conclusion: It's all a bunch of crap."
- David Dyer

There is a metric in financial analysis called the "quick ratio" or the "acid test ratio." The formula is as follows: "(Current Assets - Inventory) / Current Liabilities." This ratio flushes out two things: (1) Can a company meet their short-term financial obligations, and (2) It exposes if a company is carrying too much inventory, or rather, that the company is having a hard time selling their inventory. In short, too much inventory is never a good thing.

The holiday season is approaching and I am reminded of what a special time of the year it is indeed--a time when people's love for each other is measured in what or how much they give the other person. If this is truly the metric that people use to value relationships then this holiday season is going to suck! Right now, I am thinking about adding to my emotional inventory by celebrating the two upcoming holidays in "safe places." The relatives that I don't want to see will either not be attending due to ongoing family feuds or recent incarceration. I'm not sure which "I can't come" reason is worse. I'll have to sleep on that. The good news is that I will wake up on both holidays with a large smile--this will not be inspired by holiday spirit, but rather stems from the fact that I won't have to add another awful holiday to the existing mental inventory.

I received an email from Axel Elvik today--Norway's favorite son. He made the following remarks: "In these uncertain economic times, it is not about how fast you can move up the corporate ladder or how succesful you will be, things become binary--job or no job, house or no house. The uncertainty of it all points down and not up. Scary, but it puts your normal worries into perspective. Makes them smaller." Say what you will about the Norwegians, but they do have their moments.

Additionally, I had an interesting conversation with my cousin Maria about personal inventory. She shared with me that each time she gets worked up about the economy or the uncertain future, she head's to her closet and puts together a bag of stuff to donate to Goodwill. Wow! She made the statement that going through such a process not only helps her to clear her mind of the negative "not enough" thoughts, and helps her to remember how much she actually does have--both in possessions and in the things that can't be counted.

Historically, I have written a post near year-end where I list out all these very specific things that I want to do in the subsequent year--I achieve some of them, and others fall by the way side. I recognize now that writing down a goal doesn't mean that it's going to happen; it is a first step towards creating a process that helps a person assemble the skills or other odds and ends that make that goal a reality. I have two goals for this year that I will share with a few people--the same people that I will ask for support and accountability in achieving these goals, and will ask for direction in creating a process focused on achieving these two ends.

Namaste

Belfast on My Mind

"I learnt from Armstrong on the early recordings that you never sang a song the same way twice."
- Van Morrison

For the past two months I have been looking forward seeing Van Morrison in concert in Los Angeles. The show I was supposed to see was slated for last night. For various reasons, I didn't attend. Instead, I had a "poor man's concert" last night; I got all my Van Morrison recordings, put them on my iPod, poured myself a Scotch whisky, and played them based on chronology. After about three hours of music--lead off by blasting Gloria, and finished with the Belfast Cowboy singing Until I Gain Control Again, a long-forgotten country standard--I was still pissed that I missed the concert, possibly even angrier than I was when I first decided not to go to the show on Thursday afternoon. The only silver lining to this experience was a deeper appreciation for the man's music and his delivery.

As much as I enjoy his more mainstream recordings--Brown Eyed Girl, and his recent cover of Comfortably Numb as featured in the Departed soundtrack come to mind--I'd have to say that my favorite songs by the artist fall in this order: Santa Fe, and Into the Mystic. These two songs are about a connection to place, and a person, and explore how these things change and feel over time. In Santa Fe, he asks "Do you need it / Can you feel it in the same old way," as he rides on a train to Santa Fe--in my imagination he is meeting with an old-time love, wondering if that Flame still burns. It's the same concept he sings about in Into the Mystic--as the sailor leaves his woman on the shore he recognizes that there is something beyond description that will sustain their relationship while they are apart. In short, heavy concepts matched by unparalleled delivery--both are things which are only enhanced and more nuanced when a dash of alcohol is added to the equation.

So that is where my sensibilities are right now. How do places and people change over time? What does sustain relationships and people as we move forward in our lives? Not exactly water cooler conversation. These questions and concepts along with the backdrop of the current economic uncertainty have me thinking about one thing right now: Belfast, Ireland.

Over a hundred years ago my great-grandfather left Belfast, Ireland at the age of 11 and took a boat to America. His parents told him that they couldn't feed him, and there wasn't any work to be had; I don't think he could read or write. In the face of wild uncertainty, he got on a boat, headed to a new continent; there weren't a whole lot of other options, but there was a lot of hope that something good might happen with this change. The only real information other than that is this: he had a beautiful moustache, wore the long underwear that had the "bathroom flap" in the back, and smoked cigars during breakfast. When I hear these stories about the man being recounted, I don't get the sense that he was a broken character, or that the events of his life were met with bitterness. From what I can gather his criteria for happiness were as follows: food on the table, work--regardless how menial, and time spent with his family.

These are the thoughts that I have been meditating on this morning. I've recalibrated my expectations, and am refocusing on the aforementioned Big Three. When things in the economy right themselves--as they most certainly will over time--then I'll add travel to the list once again, and go see Van Morrison in concert. In the mean time, I'll continue with my ongoing mission to find enjoyment in simpler pleasures, i.e. a sunset, grilled cheese and tomato soup with my mom, a $6 USD steak after coupon cooked to perfection on my stove. If things really get back I might have to bite the bullet and start drinking Irish whisky.

Namaste

Mental Noise

“I read so much about folks focusing on what doesn’t matter and I wonder if they are killing time so they don’t have to take action on what does matter.”
- Gordon Byrn taken from http://www.gordoworld.com/gblog/archives/2005_11_01_archive.html

“A recession is when your neighbor loses their house; a Depression is when you lose yours.”
- RMK

There is a lot of uncertainty right now, sort of like a looming economic Judgment Day. If your balance sheet is clean, you live below your means and have a robust savings account, then everything is on sale right now. If you are on the other end of the spectrum, this may be a very uncomfortable wake-up call. Personally, I am probably somewhere in the middle of these two extremes: I have blood money in the bank, but my obsessive compulsive tendencies make it very hard to tap into that.

Things could be much worse for me financially and professionally. That does not mean that I am fully insulated from these uncertain economic times. There have been no lay-offs at the company I work for, but a measure was announced a few days ago and it has almost everyone stirring. It was a relatively innocuous measure—compared to many of the other choices that could have been made—but it was the equivalent of taking a relatively docile bee hive and shaking it vigorously: all the feelings of uncertainty and anxiety that most American harbor just below the surface have been given the opportunity to surface and then given a forum to come out and play.

As part of my training for the half marathon in January 2009, a bi-weekly Accountants’ Run has been organized. We ran on Monday and Wednesday of this week, completing 4.4 miles each time. Both runs had a similar pattern: the first 3.4 miles of the run people were talking about all the “what could happen” scenarios, and the last mile was all business—no talk, just a bunch of uptight accountants busting ass, trying to catch the guy who got tired of all the hearsay and broke away. When that last mile was completed, we were all panting, patting each other on the back and saying, “Great run.” I think this experience of “the last mile” holds a very powerful piece of the Truth.

My simple prescription for these unsettling times is this: find something to be engaged in and focus your energies on that task. By doing something that requires the overwhelming majority of your focus and concentration, something that might be on the verge of your skill set, you have to be fully present and put all of your energy in the present moment. “Could be” and “should be” and “might be,” which is my personal favorite, go right out the window. I’m not saying disregard what is going on in the economy, but don’t let uncertainty occupy the lion’s share of your energy.

Part of the reason why people get really focused on the last mile of the run and break away is because it’s all down hill, and goes through a very tight winding trail. It’s not like running on flat pavement; a person must make a lot of physical adjustments along the way to balance both the downhill element and the fancy footwork required to keep from getting run over. The guys I run with didn’t point these things out—they were too engaged in the process of actually running.

For the time being all my energy will be poured into my work and training. I’ll be using my vacation days this winter for half marathon training. It looks like I will be able to knock off for a week in early December and then I’ll have another full week off for the Christmas holiday. That is a lot of great time to train during a crucial part of the training cycle. I might even be able to head down south to Tucson and get an additional half marathon in before the Big Race in January. We’ll see.

So those are my thoughts for today. I’m curious to see what MAD has to say on this topic.

Namaste

Home

“Home is not where you live, but where they understand you."
- Christian Morganstern

On Friday night I had dinner with a family friend. The topic of "Home" came up, and the idea has been bouncing around in my head ever since. My friend is a dentist and volunteers his time providing dental services to children on Indian Reservations throughout Arizona, and Mexico. He told me that in each Hopi home the umbilical cords of each child in the family is pinned up on a wall. The reason for this, he said, is so that each child knows where home is when they enter the Spirit World. It's a pretty powerful image. In my mind, I like to think that they are pinned up on the wall so that each child never forgets where they came from--whether they are in the Spirit World or in this one.

My cousin Matt and her husband Maria were in Phoenix over the weekend, and we were able to meet up for breakfast on Saturday--I mentioned this in a previous post. We went to Matt's Big Breakfast, which is hand's down my favorite breakfast spot in Arizona. We waited roughly 30 minutes for a table, but it was well worth the wait. I gorged myself on eggs, hash browns, sour dough toast, pancakes, a tortilla, and a side of chipotle sausage. It was perfect. We ate, and laughed, told old stories that I am sure we will still be telling 30 years from now, and killed a couple pots of coffee. And I thought to myself, "This is Home. This is a place where I want nothing to change, and I feel completely myself."

In addition to this mental space, I would like to submit the following definition of what Home is: "A place where nothing bad can find you." I felt this way waking up at my Uncle Bobby's condo, Uncle Johnny and Aunt Luisa's home in Antioch, California, and at a trailer park in Bisbee, Arizona. I wish I could think of what the true and deep significance of such place are, but I can't think of an appropriate response. But I will say that I can't wait to see Matt and Maria again, kill a great bottle of wine, pass out in their guest bedroom, and wake up with a big goofy grin on my face--knowing that nothing bad can find me in their Home.

What's Next....

"What is true by lamplight is not always true by sunlight."
-Joseph Joubert

I spoke with my cousin Maria recently, and she mentioned that I hadn't written anything about going to the barber shop in awhile. It's true. Jerome has moved on to a different barber shop, so I am no longer privy to his outrageous stories of love, lust, and barbering. Lazaro did recently turn me on to a new product that has changed my grooming world completely: pre-shave oil. It makes a dramatic difference in the ease and quality of shaving. It's semi-miraculous.

A few days ago I had some thoughts about the inordinate amount of enjoyment I get out of a glass of Scotch whisky, a hair cut, a great shave, etc. For the most part my life is pretty routine: I wake up, go to work, get a workout in, go to bed. There isn't a whole lot of wild stuff going on in my dad-to-day life. I think on a subconscious level I have recognized this, and I try to make the ordinary day-to-day activities special.

For example, when I know I have to shave in the morning I get up an extra fifteen minutes early. I shower, let the steam open up my pores, and apply my beloved pre-shave oil. I'll wait a few minutes for the oil to settle, break out the peppermint shaving cream, and slowly begin to shave with the grain of my face. Then I go back once more, only this time shaving against the grain. I let my face dry out a touch, then I'll go over my face again with an electric razor. Yes, it does take me about fifteen minutes to shave, but I feel great the rest of the day.

I have seen such behavior in other family members, but applied to different things. The infamous Aunt Shelly spent over half a day making Christmas Dinner. Prior to the actual preparation, she spent a few weeks researching recipes and at least two days gathering all the various produce and other items that went into the assortment of dishes. I wonder how many people at Christmas realized the amount of care that went into the preparation of that meal. I know I did. In my bizarre little world, I could clearly see that she wanted this annual event to be something outside of the ordinary, and repetitive and poured herself into the process and the preparation. And that is exactly why I am returning to her house for Christmas this year.

When I last wrote, I mentioned the exhaustion that had set into my bones from this most recent wave of work. I took the past few days to reward/abuse myself to recognize the effort, and repay my mind/body/spirit for all that it has endured. I ate enough for three people on Friday night, then backed it up for a lumberjack's breakfast on Saturday morning; I connived Coach Kevin into giving me a swim lesson on Saturday and Sunday; I slept late over the weekend and even threw in a nap on Saturday--after the massive breakfast. My mind is pretty clear right now, and I can see how I would like the next few months to unfold.

With work I conceded mid 2007 that "things will never change." Due to the nature of my job, I will always be very busy. It's an unavoidable fact. What makes this kind of cool is that I work with some really interesting people who make the time pass by pretty easily. I have a list of "Kaizen Notes" for my boss related to the process that we just went through; I'll present them to him either tomorrow or Tuesday, and get his opinion. There are plenty of things to learn over the next few weeks and plenty of project to complete, but at least my head is in the right space.

The half marathon I will be competing in is slated for the middle of January. I haven't signed up for the race and need to knock that out tomorrow. To date, I have never felt like I have appropriately prepared for a half marathon. My main thought at this time is that I need to be extremely diligent with my day-to-day training in November and December both. My base is coming along nicely, but I need to be unrelenting in the daily execution. As such, my plan is to run Monday through Thursday, and use the weekend for swimming and "active recovery."

I wish I had some monumental insight into the upcoming weeks and months, and what they hold. I would submit that I am on a "plateau" right now, and that isn't necessarily a bad thing. For this next stretch I will continue to do my "routine" but try to put as much care and presence into what I do each day. The results should take care of themselves.

Namaste