A Nice Quiet Lunch

Ah, what could be more relaxing than a nice quiet lunch of Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches in the summer shade by the lake? Tall grass and lonely trees come to mind… maybe gentle waves crashing on a sandy beach… maybe a light afternoon rain deep in the forest. Let’s see, what other soothing noises can my alarm clock make… crickets perhaps? Lately though, it wouldn’t take much to find a more relaxing spot than the lake where I eat lunch often.

There are two things disrupting my lunchtime retreat, and neither of those things are the quality of the food. Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches are a treat at anytime, and I’ve finally found a bread that brings out the nuttiness of the peanuts and the sweetness of the jelly. Stroehman’s Whole Wheat cannot be beat! It’s also good for Grilled Cheeses, which I recently fell in love with all over again.

The first major deterrent is by no means the fault of the lake itself. It has just been really, really hot. Even in the shade, with a regular breeze coming from off the water and a can of cold soda in my hand, it doesn’t take long before I can feel the sweat dripping down my back. Then you have to decide if you should try to catch the sweat by tightening your shirt or just let it slowly make its way all the way down. I’m always amazed how far down it can go.

It’s been so hot that several times I’ve tried to illustrate how hot it is by saying that my wife and I skipped out on going to the opera because my car was struggling to cool off. It is a true story, yet, nobody has asked me why we had tickets to go to the opera in the first place, which makes me wonder what people think of me. I kind of like that the opera doesn’t seem too far out of the realm of possibility for a guy like me.

The heat and sweat I can deal with, but my usual quiet eating spot now has been invaded by large, orange machinery and yellow caution tape. The machine is so loud that I’m having trouble describing it. Imagine the sound of someone weedwacking from inside a space shuttle launch and you’ll get an idea of how loud it is.

The first day it was there, I assumed it was just a temporary thing, which was confirmed by an employee that I ran into on the third day. Apparently some pump broke somewhere else on the lake, so they have to use this blaringly loud one until it’s fixed. I was assured that it shouldn’t take more than a week.

It’s now been two full weeks, and today somebody finally came to check on it wearing giant earphones. A turn here and a turn there, and my heart filled with hope that maybe it would at last be silenced, or at least switch to something more soothing, like a babbling brook or perhaps crickets. I would have even taken ear-piercing opera notes! But the machine only roared louder… and I cut my lunch short.

Name Time

This morning I got in the shower before I realized that we needed a new bar of soap. As a result, I used some of my wife’s fancy body wash from a tube, so all day long I’ve been very conscience of how fruitily good I smell. I picked the perfect day to smell delicious as this afternoon, I endured another shower.

I’ve been to three baby showers in the past three weeks. As a guy, that might be unheard of. At each, I think I’ve blushed and mumbled a thanks as the awkward and uneasiness of being at or near the center of attention quickly faded away into something similar to fun. Actually, they’ve all been fun in their own ways. Hell, I’ll make anything fun if I can have cake and cookies afterwards.

There is always that point, however, where someone asks what the name will be. It’s such a natural question, “Do you have a name all picked out?” but it somehow manages to expose everything about you and poke around at the very essence of who you are.

Questions about the sex of the baby or the due date are pretty cut and dry. I have no power over them – they are what they are – whereas the name is something that my wife and I hemmed and hawed over for weeks. We must have considered every name that ever was, comparing them to our morals and ideals as human beings, and let the sounds of our favorites roll around in our mouths, day after day, in order to better understand it. Names are important so you have to get it right.

In the end, it wasn’t a hard decision as we kept going back to the same name. A few of my loyal readers (Hi, Mom!) have elected not to find out, so all I can do is confirm that it is not Rufus Aloysius, although I kind of like both of those names. My wife and I both really like the name we chose, so now the kid will have to live with it, like it or not. And, he’ll have to put up with the being the center of attention for awhile, which is fine by me.

The Write Choice

It’s been over a month since I last wrote anything. Is anyone surprised? I was gone for a few weeks and then I returned and chose not to write anything for two more weeks. Now I am choosing to write, I just haven’t chosen what to write about yet.

I could choose to write about my vacation in Maine, where the fun-filled outings didn’t get in the way of enjoying my days too much, but I think a picture might do better.

The U2 concert could be a good choice, but really all there is to say is that it was quite the show… and I think Bono was losing his voice, which got me thinking about how I truly want to be a good spectator. I almost feel obliged to put on a good, attentive and enthusiastic show of spectating for whomever I’m spectating, be it U2, DC United, or the Shenandoah Cloggers.

I want to write about my trip up to Maine, a twelve-hour trek through flash-floods and fast moving water, past sunken cars and closed roads that will forever rank among the scariest days of my life, but I haven’t yet fully conveyed the true terror of the incidents, even after many times telling the story. At this point, I’m not sure I even believe it myself.

Find out which choice this chooser chose by choosing to read more!