Annotations - 7/13/99

Well, clearly July is bad for journal writing.

It's a combination of things, really. First and foremost it's teaching. Teaching is taking my creative juices (hereafter referred to as my Mojo) and applying them desperately to keep jaded teenagers entertained. To date, it works. I've gotten very high marks from my kids so far, and it's a lot of fun to teach the class. But it drains the precious bodily fluid from my body.

Wow, there's a nice early morning image for you, the home viewer.

Secondly, it's the hours, which is teaching again. Specifically, it's All-School, which is a daily series of announcements and the like at 8:30 in the morning. Two days out of the week after that, I have a 9 am class to teach.

I write this journal first thing in the morning, usually. It's a way to help my brain boot up. A way I can get started first thing in the morning and clear my head of the day before. That's hard to do when I need to be doing other things first thing in the morning. And the rest of the day? The rest of the day is class prep, team meetings and (gasp) my normal job as a Manager type.

Little room for journalling there.

Then there's my social life. Of which I do have one, thank you. Last week, I was out more nights than I was in. The week before, I was out more nights than I was in. When I am in, I'm usually either tired and very zoned, sitting in front of a television or a web browser, or I'm hanging out with Mason. I'm not being creative, and I'm not journalling.

Which brings up another point. Mason. Mason and I are good friends. Very good friends. He's an utter blast to have around. We do things like cook. (Well, he cooks. I toast plates when I try to cook). We drive down to Portsmouth and see movies. We head out and shop, or do other stuff as friends are wont. Being social doesn't hurt, not one bit. Granted, we're not sharing a tiny apartment any more (which was a bit tough as, well, I have no walls in my apartment). But we still hang out together very often, and that's cool. Tonight after work we're cruising to Portsmouth, for example. Mason is good for my 'getting out' quotient.

But that's pulling me out of my insular life. Which in turn means less time to journal, especially on the weekends.

So, when I said at the beginning of this thing that I would miss days or even weeks sometime? We're here. Aren't you happy to know that? This should settle back into a routine after the class finishes.

Last week my folks needed to be picked up in Rockland, so I took a ride out on Wednesday.

Rockland, for those who don't know, is in Maine. Specifically, Midcoast Maine. Midcoast is a beautiful area where the foghorns play and the way of life reflects storybooks about my state. It's a nice place.

I, however, don't live in Midcoast Maine. I live in New Hampshire. Eastern New Hampshire, yes, but New Hampshire. Midcoast, specifically Rockland, is a good four to four and a half hours from Wolfeboro.

So, I taught that morning, managed to get out of a meeting that was important (I typed my opinions up and gave them to Alan, who agreed with them and had my support in writing so that worked up), and hit the road. It was a gorgeous day to drive. I listened to Garrison Keillor tapes and enjoyed the sunshine... which is good, because it took half of forever to get anywhere. You'd think Wednesday would be a safe day to drive, but by gum there were tourists out. Tis the season to not get anywhere, I suppose.

I made it to Rockland, finally, and found Mom and Dad on their boat.

Which begs a story.

We are not wealthy people, or so I believed. Dad was a professor and dean at a small state university. Mom worked at the same university as a director. Fort Kent, Maine is not even a large town. Buckets of cash simply were never an issue.

But they're canny. They socked away large amounts of their money for a rainy day. They were wise on how they did it. And they kept their credit rating high without carrying lots of debt.

They got a second hand boat for a song, and this became their "Summer Home." They liked it an awful lot. But it wasn't big enough.

So they traded it and got a new boat. A new thirty-eight foot sloop with all the tricks. Autopilot (which Mom loves), radar, integrated control panel at the wheel, navigation chairs, two staterooms, a huge common room with parlor seating, and it's all bright and open and beautiful.

We're wealthy. I didn't know we were, but clearly we are. Poor people don't get boats.

By we, of course, I mean 'they.' They're wealthy. The wealth of frugality until they could afford to live the life they wanted in their retirement. Which means they're not 'saving it for Kris and I after they die.' Which is good. I have retirement savings of my own. More than most people at the Academy, I'd add. My needs are small. And Kris? Kris really is wealthy -- the wealth of a husband in a lucrative field who's worked hard and now is beginning to reap the benefits of an education and a set of knowledge that's needed. And Kris earned that wealth too -- she and George met in college and married not long after. They've had lots of small places and made homes that were cheerful and bright when money was tight, while George did Medical School. And Kris works hard now. But she also is secure, as a result, and so are her children and family. Kris and I don't need to hope for a good inheritance.

In which case, I'd rather Mom and Dad get a boat. Especially this one. It's so cool. I can't wait to go sailing later this summer.

We didn't sail that day (for one thing, I taught the next morning, early. This was a mission, not a pleasure trip). I let dad drive my car while I napped with the dog in the back. Buddy, it should be mentioned, does not like the boat, does not like sailing, and does not understand what kind of fools his parents have become here. He wears a little harness on the boat in case he needs to get hauled out of the water with a boat hook, and he doesn't like that either. But he tries to be a good sport. He's such a good natured dog. However, it was some time before he got his usual rate of speed back.

We ate in Wiscasset, at a place called Sarah's. Excellent food. I had a "whaleboat," which was a kind of pastry with chicken, ham, cheese and vegetables in it.

I got in quite late, rather totally exhausted. Mason (who was still there for internet access purposes at the time) was very nice to me. And then I slept.

A good, if very long day.

Managed a significant update, including the Archives page (finally up to date) and putting a new Journal Link on. (Kate, who deserves greater introduction than I have time for right this second. Read her journal and learn more than I could say.) So, enjoy.