November 14th, 2008
Washing machine shaking. Wiggles singing on the television. Little Man singing and dancing along with them. Taking time to run down the hallway every two minutes to burst into the office and say HI DADDY, or RAAAAH, or PEEK-A-BOO! Already, we've played on bikes, raced around the remote control truck, ran around the back yard, checked the tire pressure and oil level in the pickup, checked the pipes under the house, did dishes, swept floors, taken care of the dogs and cats, and got the laundry going. And it's not even ten o'clock.
It is Friday. I feel like plopping on the couch. Shutting my eyes. Drifting away to la-la land. At least for a little while. But that's not an option. And there's no sense in doing nothing because when I do nothing I tend to think too much. And thinking is something I'd rather not do today.
Have been thinking too much for 35 years. I'd like to take a little vacation from it. Stop reading papers, watching news, reading books. Would like to stop watching good movies, listening to talk radio, and rummaging around the internet. Would like to go on sabbatical for a while. Hide away. Write. Take care of the family. Take care of myself. And emerge in two years. With a new book finished. Ready to participate in the world again.
But that's not reality. And it wouldn't do me much good to shut down for so long. So instead, I'm doing it little by little. Stealing away time throughout the week to sit here and write. Fighting to maintain balance. An alert mind. Clean spirit. Healthy lifestyle. So that I set an example for Little Man. Am a good, reliable husband for S.B..
This weekend will be three weeks since I've had a drink. Not a big deal, but another little step in the right direction. Craving a beer at two in the afternoon probably wasn't a good thing. And the longer you walk in a direction the harder it is to turn back, so I'm going to stick to this sobriety as long as I can. I'll never be a teetotaler. I will always appreciate a fine drink. But for now, especially this time of year when I used to spend so many evenings bellied up to the bar, it's important I keep clean.
I figured I was headed this way when I made the decision to commit to this new life. And little by little I've made the right steps. No more bars. No more late nights. More early mornings. Miles on the treadmill. Water in my body. Words in and out. And as I go about this path, I'm discovering the obvious. The more good you put in, the more good you get out. A no-brainer. But like I've said in the past, I have a tendency to learn the hard way.
This book, these blogs—A Year In This Life—will soon come to a close. Near the end of this month, I'll wrap up and get to the hard work of editing. This is not to say that I won't continue to write. I'll have to do that. But the next phase, the next book, may take another angle. Be stripped down. A little more raw.
In any case, I feel the closing of this book close at hand. Much like I feel the year, the season, this stretch of life coming to an end. There is more to come. There will be more to learn. To give. But I definitely feel the internal gears, as they click, engage, and begin the shift.
Best to you and yours.
(copyright © 2008 by K.J. Stevens)