Personal

In Search of the Elusive Adjective, and Sundry Other Observations

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When you meet someone socially for the first time and your new interlocutor asks you to describe yourself, what do you say? Do you identify by tribal affiliation (religion, ideology, ethnicity)? By career? By rattling off a string of descriptors? With a flippant aside, hoping to change the subject?

If someone were to ask me who I am, I have to admit to a degree of conflict. Not in a emo-angst way, mind you, but in a more phenomenological sense. For, you see, I like to think of myself in terms of skills and accomplishments rather than OMB-approved check marks, but I realize that lately I’ve not been sharpening the saw with sufficient diligence to make my string of adjectives sound convincing.

I used to be a scuba diver, until I stopped. I used to study martial arts, until I stopped. I used to be a cyclist, until I sold my bike. I used to be a runner, until I got sick and got horribly out of shape. I used, I used, I used. But now? Now, those adjectives are more elusive.

I suppose it’s a good kick in the pants, a form of motivation to get back into gear. But still, to reflect on the last few years, I can’t help but feel a sense of lost opportunity.

On a more chippy note:

  • As of yesterday I’ve hit the “lost 20 pounds” mark since returning from Tony and Jen’s wedding in late April. Not bad, considering that most of June was flat. I have a goal for my birthday in September (below 200), and another goal (my target weight of 160)  for the end of the calendar year. Both are eminently achievable.
  • Next week I’ll be in Miami Beach to attend (and present at) the 2011 Joint Statistical Meetings. Should be interesting.
  • Lots of changes at work — I have a new boss, same as the boss before the old boss. And the Wheel of Time turns ….
  • The Great Heat Wave of 2011 was much less enjoyable given that the house isn’t properly wired for the electric load of an air conditioner. I may pick up a freestanding portable unit, though.
  • I managed to sunburn the sole of my left foot by letting my foot soak up the rays while I was smoking a cigar on the back porch.

Ciao!

Personal

Waving Farewell to Fictional Friends

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This past week I bid a fond farewell to a pair of fictional friends — Harry Potter and his friends, and David Tennant as Doctor Who. I must admit to having been a wee bit melancholy to know that I’ll not see anything new of them, ever again.

First, young Potter.

I never read the books. Don’t intend to. But I saw each film, and loved them all. I remember my first H.P. experience. When the first movie was released, I watched it in an almost deserted theater in Kalamazoo on Thanksgiving Day. I expected it to be OK but I wasn’t prepared to be swept away by the sense of magic and wild-eyed wonder that the film evoked. As the series progressed, the characters became more complex and the plots, darker. Yet enthralled I remained, until I watched the final scene of HP7.2 yesterday with more sadness than joy.

As for Tennant, all I can say is that his mannerisms and adventures made him the archetype of the Doctor. I watched both the end of Series 4 and “The End of Time” movies, and seeing Tennant’s Doctor engage in his valedictory lap, complete with companions of old, made me feel like I was losing a friend.

I don’t normally react to film or television like this. Sure, there are some programs and movies I’ve enjoyed, and some that have moved me to tears or laughter or anger, but I generally dont’ experience a sense of loss (albeit mild) when a fictional character reaches his retirement.

I must be getting all mushy in my old age.

Personal

A Day Hike on the NCT

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Fifteen miles walked, six hours burned, 60 ounces of water consumed and one tick bite suffered — thus are the outcomes of my day hike on a section of the North Country National Scenic Trail today.

I chose to walk a NCT segment at Manistee National Forest in Newaygo County,  between the Nichols Lake South trailhead and Big Star Lake Road. Because I went alone, I hiked only to 16 Mile Road and then returned to Nichols Lake, which yielded roughly the same miles as the complete section would have.

The weather cooperated; it was in the low 80s and sunny, with normal Michigan humidity but enough of a breeze to occasionally swipe the bugs away. Plenty of birds and squirrels and toads, and I came very close to a deer. Lovely.

A few observations:

  • DEET: Buy it, wear it, love it. Without it, I would have lost 5 gallons of blood to the damned mosquitos. With it — not a single bite. Well, except the tick.
  • Even if you are on a well-blazed trail, it pays to keep a map and compass. And by “map” I mean something that you can navigate with, not something you print off Google.
  • Whatever you think would be appropriate for water, double it. I had three 20-ounce bottles of water and by the time I was done, I had emptied all of them.
  • Take the time to look up, and around. The sights on the trail are well worth watching. And look down, too — so you don’t step on the toads. Every now and then, just stop. Appreciate the diversity of ecosystems within a single forest, all within a few miles. I passed through swamps, deciduous forests, pine thickets, fields of fern and grass. Each has its own character — relish them, each in turn.
  • Listen. Half the beauty of the trail is auditory.
  • Plan your gear carefully. Of first importance: Footwear. Think “ankle support.” Think “adequate coverage to foil ticks.” And don’t forget a little bag so you can pack out your trash.

Oh, and yes — I’ll be returning to the trail. Soon.

Personal

Finding the Right Purpose

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‘Twas an interesting weekend.

Saturday, I mostly relaxed a bit. Tried to write, but didn’t “feel it.” Watched a bunch of Netflixed online episodes of series one of the BBC’s Torchwood. Ate some Lean Pockets and read some magazines and visited my mom and played with Gunner. Largely wasted and chaotic.

Today? Different story. Spent six hours in the office this morning and got a ton of stuff done. Went home, did laundry, cleaned, did the dishes, blogged, edited, paid a bill, sorted a week’s worth of accumulated email, got caught up on Facebook messages. Accomplished everything I wanted to get done, with a little time to spare.

I think a big part of being successful is finding the right purpose. Purpose provides meaning, and meaning provides motivation.

Of course, when your attitude sucks, you cannot connect with purpose. When you let stress get the upper hand, inertia sets in and water-treading becomes the norm.

The older I get, the more sensitive I am to the overwhelming significance of good attitude as the most important contributor to personal success. When you let one thing get you down, everything else collapses as well. But when you make the effort to achieve, and to thrive … well, that’s the beginning of success.

Personal

Birthday Bash

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“The Gang” celebrated Tony’s 34th birthday yesterday in the fair city of Grand Rapids. Tony and Jen stayed overnight at the Amway, as did Jon and Emilie, so the five of us made an evening of it.

Itinerary:

  • Drinks at the bar across from Amway’s hotel registration area at 5 p.m.
  • Dinner at The Chop House.
  • Cigars, dessert and cocktails at the cigar lounge below The Chop House.
  • An hour or so at Mojo’s enjoying more cocktails (the place was infested with bachelorette parties, but was otherwise tolerable).
  • More cocktails at Cygnus 27 at the top of the Amway.
  • Attempted 1 a.m. chicken strips run at TGI Fridays; thwarted by a closed kitchen.
  • Burgers at Z’s Bar and Grill. Tony and Jen both spilled their sodas, and were rewarded with “sippy cups” from our good-natured waitress. We tipped her generously.
  • Retired for the evening around 2:30 a.m.

In all, a good time.

A few highlights:

  1. We had no idea Chop House had a cigar lounge. Woohoo.
  2. Jon and Emilie picked an excellent bottle of wine with dinner. My grilled swordfish steak was quite tasty.
  3. Cygnus isn’t too bad. First time I’ve been up there since the remodel. Tony ran into one of the band members from the Bob Seeger concert and got an autograph.
  4. Mojo’s will make you deaf if you stay there long enough. That said, the server’s adding a few cherries to my tall Sam Adams Cherry Wheat was a nice touch.

I’m glad I was able to spend time with Jon and Emilie and Tony and Jen — they’re a great group of friends.

Personal

One Month Later

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Wow. I haven’t posted in a month. Sorry about that.

Some updates:

  1. Weight loss 2.0 is proceeding in good order — as of this morning, I’m down 17 pounds since I started. Woohoo. Only 50 more to go. I’ve been pretty good about monitoring calories and doing at least 30 minutes of cardio most nights each week.
  2. I’ve been watching the reboot of Doctor Who, and I love it. Almost done with Series 2. Will probably do Torchwood next.
  3. Last Monday, I hosted an all-day, offsite retreat for my department. All eight of us spent the day at Casa de Jason. Ronda brought fillets (which Christian grilled to perfection); Pat brought asparagus; Pam brought potato salad; Keron brought Logan’s rolls. Shannon and Alaric brought themselves. We had a good time and got a lot accomplished.
  4. Last Sunday I invited my mom and grandmother over for dinner — lasagna, brownie and salad. We had fun, and Jess’s contributions were invaluable.
  5. Tony stopped by a while back; we had tasty cigars, yummy Uccello’s pizza and fine Scotch. Yay.
  6. Speaking of Scotch, my preferred purveyer of perfect spirits sold me an $84 bottle of Ballentine’s 17-years-old Scotch whisky. This is the exact same Scotch that Jim Murray — editor of the 2011 Whisky Bible and world-famous expert on the brown spirits — delcared the No. 1 whisky in the world. It compares favorably to the McCallan 30-year, which retails at $1,100 per bottle in Michigan. And let me tell you — sipping the Ballentine’s 17 is an almost orgasmic experience.
  7. I installed Windows 7 on my netbook, slipping away from Ubuntu Linux. I have access to an Exchange server, so I’m standardizing my entire networking platform (including a more robust homegroup) on Windows. Next, I’m going to dump my Samsung Epic, with its Android 2.2 OS, for a Windows Phone 7 from one of the carriers. Maybe I’ll finally drop Sprint, since the network in West Michigan has been erratic since January.
  8. I’m enjoying the shellacking Barack Obama has taken from Israeli PM Benjamin Netanyahu in recent days — whether it’s addressing the world with half-baked ideas about Israeli security or flubbing a toast to Queen Elizabeth, the president’s gaffes have been a source of constant amusement.
  9. I finally did finish one of the two planned bookshelves for my office. It’s 6′ tall, 4′ wide and 12″ deep, with 2×2 pillars between shelves to provide additional structural support. I like it; it looks good and is structurally stable.
  10. My poor truck is dying. Something with the transmission (or perhaps the torque converter) is on the fritz. Will probably need to get a new vehicle sometime this summer.
  11. Planning to be in Miami Beach in early August for a conference. Yay.
  12. Looking forward to celebrating Tony’s birthday tomorrow with Tony, Jen, Jon and Emilie. They are all staying in Grand Rapids, for once.

Ciao.

Personal

A Flip of the Switch

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… and just like that, things are different.

I’m not sure what the real trigger was. Perhaps it was being in Las Vegas and seeing the beautiful people, or the stress release now that Vegas is over, or seeing my friend Josh from the dojo at Buffalo Tobacco before I left, or what. But the switch flipped again, and I’m back on the diet-and-exercise wagon.

‘Tis eerie, actually. For months I’ve strugged to remove the weight that got larded back on from the infamous Vitamin D problem, but to no avail. I’d eat OK for a day and then — mmm, donut.

The day after I got back from Vegas, I was just “on.” For the last four days I’ve consumed fewer than 1,500 calories and have used my exercise bike religiously again. What’s more, there’s a certainty within that I’ll get back to around 160 by Christmas. Not, “well, I’ll try,” or “maybe I can do it,” but absolute certainty like that which hit me in January 2005, before my loss of 11o lbs.

Heck, I even have a basket of chocolate in my kitchen and absolutely no desire to have even a single piece.

Amazing, but overdue. Skinny Jason is on his way back home again.

Personal

Skeleton Keys

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A few weeks ago I decided to fix all the indoor locks in my apartment. I live in a Heritage Hill-style house that’s about 115 years old and there are parts of the interior (especially the gorgeous curved-glass windows in the living and dining rooms) that are still original.

Several of the interior doors, complete with cartridge lock that requires a skeleton key, are also original, but over the years the bolts had been painted over and the locks themselves don’t appear to have been used in decades. So, I fixed them. I removed each cartridge from the door frame, opened it up, and scraped away the paint. I purchased a few skeleton keys from Home Depot and *presto* — most of the interior doors now properly lock.

What amazed me about the whole experience was the elegance of the internal mechanisms. The locks predate the pin-and-tumbler style that became popular in the United States during the 1940s. The skeleton lock was simple to operate, easy to clean and durable. How many pin-and-tumbler locks that are 70 years old still function adequately?

This story probably admits to many different lessons — about the virtue of simplicity, the value of old-fashioned durability, etc. — but what struck me the most was that I could fix this lock on my own with no external assistance (barring, of course, the fabrication of a broken part). How many of us could fix a broken lock today? How many of us would bother trying?

As the tools around us become more complicated, the average person loses the ability to single-handedly control and maintain his environment. In the mid 1990s I used to build my own computers from the component pieces; today, I’d be lost. A century ago, any homeowner could repair his own locks; today, a locksmith must do it.

There are definite security advantages to pin-and-tumbler locks compared to the old skeleton locks. But we must recall that not all that is new is necessarily better in all respects.

Personal

The Wedding of Tony and Jen

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My dear friends Tony and Jen celebrated their nuptials last Sunday, April 17, at 1 p.m. PDT at the Las Vegas Country Club. I was privileged to be a part of that blessed event and the activities surrounding it. As my way of helping to preserve and honor the memory of the occasion, I shall transcribe the details to record.

Background

I’ve known Tony for nearly 14 years. We met at Western Michigan University; we served together in the student government and in the College Republicans. I have been acquainted with Jen for nearly as long — I first met her when she was “studio support” while Tony and I filmed Love Chat, a call-in cable-access TV program in Kalamazoo. Although I didn’t know Jen nearly as well at first, I’ve gotten to know her much better in the last few years; she is a first-class lady and Tony is very lucky to be marrying up. On a personal front, I’m happy that I can consider this union as “my friends Tony and Jen got married to each other” rather than “my friend Tony got married to some blonde chick with a nice rack.”

Tony and Jen dated three times over a decade or so. The third time was apparently the charm. Although the happy couple had talked marriage for nearly a year, Tony finally bought the ring and popped the question about six months ago, when the two of them went to Las Vegas for a mini-vacation.

Chronology

Thursday, April 14. Arrival Day. Tony, Jen, Tony’s parents Ken and Cindy, Jen’s brother Joe, Jen’s mother Barb and her escort Mike, and I all arrived in town at varying times on Thursday the 14th. I left Grand Rapids at 1 p.m. EDT, arriving in Las Vegas at 3:15 p.m. PDT with the briefest of layovers in Minneapolis. When I got to town, I shuttled to the Stratosphere (where I spent the next five nights) and got settled. After that, I walked down the Strip to Caesar’s Palace to connect with Tony and his parents. From there, we walked to the Mirage, where everyone who was in town for the wedding assembled for dinner at the buffet. After that, a group of us went to the bar on the gaming floor at TI for drinks; Tony and I played video poker, enjoyed a cigar and sipped Scotch at the bar. Then Tony promised to drive me back to the Strat but sneakily shoved me in a cab instead.

Friday, April 15. Party Day. I took the monorail from Sahara to Harrah’s and enjoyed Harrah’s buffet breakfast with Tony and Joe. Then we traded Joe for Jen  and ran errands in Tony’s giant boat of a Crown Vic Police Interceptor — including taking me back to McCarran to get my own rental car, a Hyundai Sonata, and grabbing a few bottles of wine and some distilled water. Then we met Emilie and Jon and her parents John and Susan at the airport and drove them to Treasure Island for their check-in. After that, Tony and Jen obtained their marriage license and took engagement photos while Emilie, Jon, Susan, John and I went to Kahunaville at TI for drinks and snacks as a lead-in to a formal dinner for the entire wedding party at BOA Steakhouse in Caesar’s Forum Shoppes.

Dinner at BOA included the bride and groom, Ken and Cindy, Barb and Mike, Jon and Emilie, John and Susan, Tony’s friends John and Maliegh, Jen’s friend Heidi,  Jen’s friends Cary and Deb, and Joe and I. I had a delicious petite filet mignon with sauteed mushrooms and herbed potatoes. Joe had a filet and a lobster tail the size of his head.

The wedding party split after dinner; Emilie coordinated the bachelorette party (after having her carefully laid plans thwarted by the clock, she recovered with quiet and skillful dignity) while Tony, Joe, Jon and I split off for the bachelor party. We ended up hoofing it to KGB for drinks (best. White Russian. evah!) then checked out the bars at the new Cosmopolitan. Cosmo was pretty but stuffed to the gills with Jersey Shore-style clientele, so we ended up making a gambling-and-drinking circuit among Bally’s, Flamingo and Imperial Palace. The IP is Tony’s favorite casino for reasons that remain unclear to the rest of us. Amidst our travels, we did have to hop a fence and walk into oncoming traffic, but the razor-sharp steel on top of the fences did not snag anyone’s testicles (yay). We returned to our respective hotels by 4:15 a.m. PDT, having outlasted the women by a comfortable margin.

Saturday, April 16.  Recovery Day. Tony and I had a fabulous buffet breakfast at the Wicked Spoon at the Cosmopolitan — notable for the extraordinarily high quality of the bacon. Then we hoofed it to Bally’s for a video poker marathon. Unfortunately, neither of us hit the Royal, but we tried; we did, however, enjoy some quality time smoking Cuestra Rey cigars, drinking Bacardi-and-diets and gambling. When we tired of offering sacrifices to the gambling gods, Tony and I picked up Jen, Emilie and Joe and drove to the Las Vegas Country Club for the wedding rehearsal (I got to play the priest). When rehearsal was complete, we ate at the BLT Burger at Mirage (having swapped Emilie for Heidi) for delicious burgers and beer, then did some light gambling at Mirage before calling it a night a bit early.

Sunday, April 17. Wedding Day. I picked up Jon and drove us to Mandalay Bay. Tony and Joe surprised us by being five minutes early, then Tony treated “the guys” to brunch at the buffet then took us to The Art of Shaving for a royal shave — his gift to us. The royal shave is a 45-minute experience complete with two passes of a straight-edge razor, a facial mask, a massage and multiple hot and cold towel compresses. I picked up a handful of Davidoff 2000s as a gift to Tony. Then Jon and I picked up John and Susan and we proceeded apace to LVCC for the wedding.

The ceremony itself was beautiful. There were 15 guests in addition to the bride and groom and Joe and Emilie (best man and matron of honor). I was thrilled to sit in the front row with Tony’s parents, cracking jokes with Cindy and escorting her in her high heels down the steep grass embankment for the posed photos. Fr. St. John offered the short form of the wedding ceremony, then we had photos and then dinner. The salmon was baked to perfection — a truly delicious wedding meal. The folks at the Las Vegas Country Club did a great job, and Jesus with his absurdly long trilled Rs provided excellent table service. The string quartet was fabulous and the photographer (a high-energy skinny-jeans dude named Jason) had a great set of people skills and a decent eye for framed shots.

After the wedding I took Jon, Emilie, John and Susan back to TI, where we enjoyed some cocktails at TI’s Breeze Bar before changing and heading to the Venetian for a wine reception in Tony and Jen’s room. Their suite was larger than many two-bedroom apartments and luxuriously appointed with a great view of the Strip. I served as bartender that evening but made a measly $10 in tips. Guests included the newlyweds, Jon and Emilie, Ken and Cindy, Barb and Mike, Emilie and Jon and Joe and I — and I managed to snap some decent photos of the reception between uncorkings and topping off glasses. We ended up skipping a planned dinner at Delmonico’s in favor of heading as a group to Imperial Palace for karaoke and adult beverages. IP was a great time (it can be hit or miss) and I even managed to break my karaoke cherry by singing Kenny Rogers to Tony’s Dolly Parton for Islands in the Stream. We looked like idiots but after enough Bacardi-and-diets you don’t much care. Tony also got Emilie up on stage for Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves. We stayed there until the karaoke closed at 1 a.m. PDT; the whole group except Tony’s parents and John and the four-months-pregnant Maliegh attended.

Monday, April 18. Vacation Day. I picked up Emilie’s dad at 9:30 a.m. and we drove to the Hoover Dam for the full dam tour. It was a great day for it — and John has a delightful sense of humor. He paid my admission and I bought us Burger King afterwards. I’m glad we were able to get away for a nice chunk of the day.  Then I spent less than an hour with Tony and Jen, wandering the gaming floor of the Venetian, before heading back to Stratosphere for a nap, dinner, packing and the acquisition of souvenirs for the folks back home.

Tuesday, April 19. Travel Day. My flight left McCarran at 7 a.m. PDT. I got up at 4, showered and returned the Sonata. The travel experience was mostly smooth and painless. No long waits, except in Minneapolis; the outbound plane to Grand Rapids was delayed coming into MSP, so I had an extra 75-minute pause. That said, the flight to G.R. was empty enough that the flight attendant let me move to an exit-row window seat, with the entire row to myself. Got back around 5 p.m. EDT and took The Rapid back home. Made a quick Meijer trip for groceries then settled down to watch TV and eat before going to bed around 10:30 p.m. EDT.

Reflections

No chronology would be complete without a bit of supplementary analysis. Here you go:

Wedding.  The ceremony and everything about it was beautiful. The bride’s dress was elegant, the setting was perfect (and we spent a good deal of time outside despite the 93 F temperatures) and the service of the LVCC staff was impeccable. Being invited to attend a small wedding is a high honor, and being seated next to the groom’s mother for a front-row seat increased my level of privilege. Emilie and Joe performed their respective tasks as matron and best man with great skill and high success.

Stratosphere. In retrospect, booking the Strat was a mistake. Although the distance from TI/Venetian wasn’t an issue, the fact that a big chunk of the distance between them was a no-mans land of homeless people and construction didn’t help. I was not impressed by the Stratosphere. The gaming floor was nice, but the room was interchangeable with any mid-market Holiday Inn. The shops and bars there were decidedly downmarket (Hello? Auntie Annie’s Pretzels?) and I think I heard more people talking in Russian and German than in English. I can’t imagine why the Strat would be a destination hotel/casino on the Strip, and with the soon-to-be-closing of the Sahara, I don’t think the future looks too bright for this icon of Las Vegas Boulevard. That said, I was only there to sleep and shower, and I had a car, so my accommodations did not distract from my enjoyment of the Las Vegas Wedding Extravaganza.

Driving. No doubt about it — renting a car is the way to go in Sin City. You can valet for free everywhere. As long as you are smart enough to avoid driving directly on the Strip (using Paradise Road for most north/south travel worked well for me) you can get places quickly and easily. Just be sure you and your vehicle are capable of aggressive driving. Safe, slow drivers will be shot on sight, or locked forever at a curb with their turn signal blinking uselessly.

Fashion. You can spot the Eastern European tourists — they are typically dressed in some sort of high fashion, but at least one thing is just off. Like the Diesel jeans hiked too high, or the odd choice of sunglasses, or curious color pairings. In West Michigan, youth culture favors athletic wear or the Abercrombie/Hollister brands, but in Vegas you could go for hours without seeing anyone who dressed like a Michigan native. Vegas social apparel tends to be much more urban trendy than anything you’ll see at a bar or club in Grand Rapids or Lansing. Also, you see many more tattoos on the guys — I daresay a decent majority of men under 40 sported ink in some way — and significant female tattooing was frequent enough to be unremarkable.

Dining. Eating in Vegas requires elastic-waistband pants. Although we mostly did buffet — Tony’s favorite — there are plenty of fine restaurants and cigar bars on the Strip that offer excellent food at a decent price. I think I gained five pounds on a five-night trip.

Nightlife. Vegas night life is heavily centered on upscale nightclubs. One night, we passed the entrance line for Tao at the Venetian. The line was probably 300 people deep, and they were mostly dressed identically — revealing black cocktail dresses on the women, $1,000 outfits on the men, and not a single fatty in sight. There wasn’t a large amount of diversity on the Strip; buff, horny young men hitting on slender, slightly slutty women was the overwhelming paradigm. No real themed clubs — no cowboy bars, no leather bars, no gay bars. Yes, they exist, but you need to search for them; the Vegas Strip clearly caters to upscale young heterosexuals who like urban DJ spins.

Now that I have nattered on for 2,100 words, it’s time to abide. The Vegas Wedding is over; a good time was had by all, and I made it back safe. Success!

Tony and Jen: Congratulations. And thanks for letting me be a part of your wedding and your life.

Personal, Philosophy, Religion, Vices

Sabbath

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After returning home this evening from a laborious day at the office, I retired to the verandah to enjoy a cigar (A. Fuente Rosado Gran Reserva R54), a cocktail (a Sazerac — a rye-based drink with bitters, simple syrup and a hint of absinthe) and the current issue of Cigar Aficianado magazine.  While reading the feature interview with Matthew McConaughey, and especially the parts about the launch of his career, a thought occurred to me: The reason I so enjoyed the billowing smoke and sweet beverage and the early-spring sun was because the whole experience was, in a way, sabbath.

Yes, yes. I know; Sabbath — I can hear you say the word with a capital S — is a religious thing. It’s the stuff of Judeo-Christian tradition, whereby people don’t do manual labor on Sunday and … um … like go to church or something. It’s hard to argue with 3,000 years of recorded history.

Yet small-S sabbath is vital for one’s mental health. We all need downtime. We need to take time to escape from the worries and cares of the day to unwind and enjoy the moment. Too many take too few such opportunities, even if briefly.

I burned the candle from both ends in the wild and crazy days of my youth. I’d get up by 7 a.m., go to work, then drive 60 miles south for school, then return. One semester, I made the Grand Rapids-to-Kalamazoo trek twice daily. And through it all, rare was the day I’d be home before midnight. In those days such schedules were routine; I never had any extended and uncommitted time, and even my weekends were filled with work and church volunteering and sundry social events.

Six years ago I kicked that habit and downsized most of my day’s schedule. It took a full three months before I could come home at night and have no commitments and not feel stressed out that I should be doing something. Now I find that if I go too long without a break, I get surly and tired.

We need sabbath. We need periods of rest to recharge our emotional and spiritual batteries. We need to take time to enjoy the small things without the guilt pangs that come from thinking we should be occupied with that huge to-do list. Without real rest, we get stressed to the point when enjoyment of any kind becomes a fleeting thing.

I’ve been tinkering with the idea of taking an entire day each week, perhaps Sunday, to do nothing but vegetate. Read, go for a walk, go out for breakfast, watch the latest delight from Netflix, whatever. Just not anything I must do. That’s why this evening’s 90 minutes of relaxation proved so refreshing, because I had spent most of last weekend writing papers and running errands and otherwise being busy. As a wise philosopher once said, “No downtime and no beer make Homer go … something-something.”

It’s cliche to suggest we all should stop every now and then to smell the roses. Yet without sabbath, we never manage plant the rose bushes in our souls that allow us to enjoy the sweet fragrance in the first place. No one is so busy that he cannot profit from real and regular sabbath and learn to enjoy the moment before the moments worth enjoying become the unplumbed regrets of old age.