It was our last night visiting our son, Ben. He lives in a crowded, noisy, hot city in Sicily, Catania.
We decided to stay in an Airbnb together in the heart of downtown, to give him a break from his normal life.
Problem: there’s literally nowhere to park.
The main parking garage is blocked in by the outdoor market. You can only park there if you arrive before the market stalls are set up or after they are taken down – and the stalls are up for most waking hours.
We finally found a spot, after looking for 20 minutes. Ben stood in the opening so I could drive around the block to access the spot. But then my lack of directional sense meant I could not get back. (A maze of one-way streets conspired against me.)
Ben, who is totally used to living there, was almost as frustrated by the situation as I was.
The moral of the story is, how do I deal with frustration and disappointment?
In this case, things worked out, and afterward, our frustration eventually died down.
(Ben met me in a place I shared via a maps app and then navigated me back to the aforementioned slot, which quite miraculously was still open. )
But a better reaction would have been to just relax and not worry about how long it all was taking. After all, we were on vacation together!
I read murder mysteries on my Kindle some nights, just before drifting off to sleep.
I listen to murder mysteries via CDs that I check out from the library during my car commute.
My problem is that those two running plotlines sometimes blend.
And then, if I add in two or three nights’ sessions of an episode of Midsommer Mysteries on Acorn TV, it gets even worse.
Definitely a first-world problem.
Collage created from two Unsplash images by Yaroslav Кorshikov and Alejo Reinoso. Copyright and used under Creative Commons license.
My dad died 30 years ago this month.
I miss him.
A few weeks back, I dreamed I was traveling home from somewhere, and my dad picked me up. I told him how great it was to see him.
I don’t put much stock in dreams, but that was a great dream – and a nice thought to wake up with, circling around the corners of my consciousness.
I miss sharing my kids with him. He loved kids, and I know he would have loved mine (as well as the kids of my sisters – and the dogs of my brother).
I am sad he never got to know my wife. She met him very briefly as a brain tumor was taking over his life.
I’m sorry I never got his advice on some of the more adulting things I’ve traveled through over the last 30 years.
If your dad is alive today, give him a hug. Tell him how much you love him.
My dad was about the age I am today in this photograph.
The 2020 Kia Telluride is ugly.
But you may like it.
I know it’s rugged looking. I know it carries visual themes from the Hummer and Jeep Wrangler. I know it can perform mild off-road tasks. And I know that Telluride is a beautiful town in my home state, Colorado.
But the design just does not appeal to me.
I realize that I’m hopelessly old-school, but I find the sedan and its wagon variant attractive. They are lower to the ground, corner better and have enough room for most daily uses.
For the same money, one could buy a really nice used Audi A4 wagon with all-weather capability but no off-road ground clearance.
The photo is courtesy of Kia USA.
My body works backwards.
During some winter months, Heather and I join a cross-fit exercise class at our local rec center. Most of the exercises are challenging because, well, if they weren’t, why would we want to do them?
But some of the exercises are challenging to me and not most of the other participants. When we’re supposed to take our right hands and touch our left feet, I typically take my right hand and touch my right foot. And similar things happen with other exercises.
I call it body dyslexia.
“Disabled” is not a good word, because it’s a label. A person living with a disability is a better way to describe those of us who are challenged in one or more areas because that’s only a part of who we are – not the whole.
I’m living with body dyslexia.
And dancing? Impossible for me.
The “DANCE” photo is courtesy of Georgia de Lotz via Unsplash. Used under a Creative Commons license.