The More Things Change...

Everyone knows how that saying ends. Most often, it sounds bitter, sometimes it sounds comforting. Sometimes it reminds me of something my boss said: stasis is death.

I'm struggling to transition back to "real life" after a vacation. It's hard to give up the nearly perfect harmony I feel with the world when I'm alone, biking near the shore of the Great Lakes, only to return to... well, people and the way they choose to live here.

Driving is one of the things that annoys me most. Give me a bike any day. I don't mind riding trails, dodging horse shit. I mind people rolling signs and lights. People's lack of manners gets on my nerves. The first time I talked to folks from church, various ones voiced their frustrations about this and that. The guys at work had fallen behind on some things that I knew I'd have to help catch us up on.

I talked to one of my best friends before vacation. He runs the site I used to write for (and who knows, may write for again some day). We had argued, not talked for a couple months, then met up again at a game. It was good to see him, his wife, and their kids. Seeing how much his kids have grown is always a shock. Passage of time and all. It was cool to talk football with him, his father, and his brothers. They all know more about football than I do and it's cool to hear the game broken down by people that have a better appreciation of it. Things like that remind me that there are reasons to stay for now.

Work is busy, but good. I managed to sneak away for a day at the races with my father. I shot a few hundred pictures at the races, some of which came out really nice. Our church held it's big annual fund raiser (a Caribean dinner and silent auction). I got to dance to a steal drum band, bought some imported Rum and a case of wine, and ate some really good pulled pork, rice and beans, and corn bread. I went back to playing hockey. Two wins and a loss this week, including one win behind my friend the Baboon's team. It was good to drink beer in the shower again after a game, and to sit on the tailgate of the truck and bullshit after a game with the guys.

The fact is, though, I miss my island. I'm making plans and crunching numbers, and thinking about how fast 50 will come at me. That's the age when I want to have my house on my island. I'm not a person that ever feels at peace with himself or the world for long, except when I'm there. Lots of trees and water. For some reason trees and water work for me.

Yup, count your days, obnoxious "real life." 50 will be coming up faster than you know.