Sounds fancier when you add a definitive pronoun, don’t it?
Point is, today’s overwhelming feeling of the day was the anticipated joy and joy of anticipation of resuming.
Perhaps it is no coincidence that many across the country are feeling the same about summer and the success of the vaccination campaign in the United States. With the CDC’s proclamation that masks are unnecessary for those who have been vaccinated, many are excited about the return to a semblance of normalcy.
Likewise, my albatross wasn’t the pandemic, so much as the transition across the country, the monster move and process of essentially starting a whole new way of life.
Thus, today, as I unpacked our books, reassembled a labyrinthian secretary’s desk, created a couple of shelves for our games cabinet, I felt exuberant about resuming all those things we have not done for months. Here’s my short list:
1. Read again. I love reading bedtime stories to the kids and feel it has been far too long since we last sat and read together. Moreover, I’m looking forward to having enough energy at the end of the evening to read to and by myself for an hour or two.
2. Cook again. Luckily, we have two good cooks in the family, as Chelsea has been cooking everyday for the last couple of months. Now that our cookbooks are out of boxes and back on the shelf, and our kitchen is a little less crowded, the prospect of reading a few pages from our collection of cookbooks from America’s Test Kitchen and trying out a new tip or recipe is exhilarating.
3. Run again. For a good six months or more I’ve had no need to exercise. All the packing and packing and packing and then unpacking, not to mention shoveling and rock lifting, garage dumping, furniture moving and constantly moving have fulfilled any and all prescriptive movement. Nonetheless and allthemore, I miss running. So, I’m looking forward to that magic moment when there’s nothing to unpack or organize or assemble, because at that moment I’ll likely put on my sneakers and go for a good run through one of our arroyos.
4. Write again. Albeit I’ve made an earnest effort to write stories about our fantastic journey every day, I haven’t written or edited or created a book in all too long. I’ve authored 12 books of photography, poetry and prose already, but have been an artist-in-hibernation for almost a decade, or at least one that has not produced a solid collection of published work in nearly ten years. Time to make up for paradise lost, getting sucked down into the parental rabbit hole and for sleeping on the job that God and the fates have assigned me - time to get back to work.
5. Play again. Finally, I’d have to say that I’m overjoyed at the prospect of having to play nightly games with the kids. Tonight, we played a few rounds of dominos and although we sat in the floor because we don’t have a proper table yet, it was nice to do something other than veg before the tell-ee.
Equally exciting is the resumption of playing poker on an irregular basis with the boys in the hood. Since 1994, I’ve hosted regular monthly games in New York City, New Jersey and Peekskill, and now I’m thrilled to resume the game here at The Shed at the top of Horny Toad Road.
We’ve got decks and decks of cards, custom-made ceramic poker chips, and I recently purchased six vintage chairs, as well as a folding poker table, which my felt poker table top will fit perfectly upon. So, the venue, liquor cabinet and game are all set, we just need to set a date and round up a few good men.