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Just where does the energy come from?

by John on June 6th, 2010

This weekend has been a strange one. It’s hardly the last weekend that I’ll have with a Saturday night gig, but it was the first. And, because of the gig (and the great-unknown that was my opportunity to nap), I chose not to work out. Well, I walked the dogs with the kid attached to my chest (see picture, right), plus my “everyday regimen” or situps & pushups, but that was it. It was threatening to rain all day, but I actually thought it would have been a good day to bike. With me needing to stay up until weird hours of the morning, though, the physical activity was minimal. I did not get a chance to nap.

I went to the gig, and rock, it did. The thing about gigs is that they’re actually a workout in themselves. I mean, there’s the unloading & setup, there’s the actual playing. Despite the fact that I’m always drinking a beer, performing takes energy. Those of you who have seen me play know that I’m not somebody who “just sits there”. I physically can’t play if I’m not moving, and moving a lot. Performing always makes me work up a sweat.

Anyway, the gig isn’t the point of this entry (again, many of you may be asking, “there’s a point?” . . . screw y’all, I’m getting to it), it’s how the rest of the weekend played out.

The horrible case of the missing CJ

I truly feel bad about this one, and it should probably be put on the “parent blog”, but more of you read this blog & I think you’ll enjoy the story.

I pull in a little after two AM, unlock the front door, & the dogs go crazy (as they’re wont to do). I go upstairs to take a look at the sleeping situation. Duffy was asleep, the three dogs were lying down, and CJ was asleep in the bed.

Seeing as he was out cold, I went to put him in his crib. But, as I was still a bit amped up from the gig, I decided to head to watch TV downstairs, rather than wake up my wife.

Well, just as I’m walking down the stairs, I hear a very worried gasp from the wife. Somehow, she had managed to sleep through me walking into the house, the dogs going absolutely crazy, me picking up the kid & delivering him into the crib. Yet, something woke her randomly after all of that & she was convinced that the kid had crawled off the bed or something.

So I finally managed to convince myself to go to bed around 3AM, though I was likely awake until 4. There is no greater high for me than playing in front of a crowd, and getting off of that high takes time. So I only had an hour or two of sleep before CJ started crying.

I got out of bed, threw a bottle in the bottle warmer, changed the kid, and fed him. It didn’t take long for him to fall back asleep (maybe I should stop spiking his formula with Ambien?), and I managed another hour or two of sleep.

Right after 7AM, the dogs started wrestling. Well, Hobbes was trying to lick my face / get my attention because he wanted a walk. Snickelfritz was on the floor wondering why I hate him as I won’t get out of bed to throw a ball. Cosmo was busy leaping-at and landing-on Hobbes from varying angles of the bed. Somehow, the rib & the kid slept through all of this.

So I walked the dogs around the park a few times.

When I got back in, Duffy had to head out, so I got daddy-duty. CJ & I played. I fed him (at one point, he somehow grabbed a hold of the spoon I was using to feed him & flung sweet potatoes & peas all over the place . . . even had to clean some off of the ceiling), we played some more. He’s teething & very fussy . . . but, considering the cute factor that “hold me all of the time” mood isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Eventually, he finally went down for a bit of a nap, & I tried to follow the fabled “sleep when baby sleeps” advice. I really did try, but the end of The Evil Dead was on, and I love that movie. I finally managed to close my eyes about 25 minutes after CJ fell asleep, and two minutes later, he was up again.

Then I got hit by a cleaning bug. I should state, up front, that I’m pretty goshdarn messy. I actually have a grand-plan to keep everything orderly & organized, but if I don’t have the time to actually do things right, I avoid cleaning. Well, my basement (and there is no complaint to me ever calling it “my basement”) was bordering on dangerous to navigate. So, I cleaned it — started at the desk, then worked my way through the rest of the area — throwing out what I didn’t need, ensuring that anything I did need was in a proper place, and then dusting & mopping (a few years ago, I replaced the indoor/outdoor carpet with rollout “garage flooring” so that any cleanup would be as simple as a pail & a mop). It took several hours. I felt better.

The saga of the baby raccoon

Right at the beginning of my run, I got startled as something moved quickly as I ran past a wooded area. I jumped to avoid whatever it was, stopped, & saw a wounded baby raccoon acting incredibly erratically.

I stopped my run & called 9-1-1.

While I waited for the police to arrive, the owner of the house across the street from where I was standing came out . . . he told me that he’d wait for the cops & that I should get my run on. So I did.

Now, the trail that I run allows me to view the woods that I passed for about a third of the track. I saw the cops arrive as I finished up my first lap. Once I could no longer see what was going on, I heard a gunshot. Cops were still there after my next lap, but they were gone by the time I completed my fourth lap around the park.

I ran four miles in heat & humidity. I was hoping for between seven & ten miles (no real reason for such a goal), but with the early detour (see sidebar, right), the heat, and the realization that the grass was likely mostly dry, I packed things in and went home to mow the lawn.

So, for those keeping track at home: little sleep, hardcore basement cleaning, four mile run, and now I’m mowing the lawn. I really had to question what was up with me. All I can think is, being active leads to your body wanting to be even more active.

Today, I’m at work, and I haven’t a clue where my weekend went . . . skipped my morning workout because, well, I just wanted more sleep, but I’m going to plan to finish the lawn (the sun went down as I finished up slaughtering about 2/3 of the damn grass that insists on growing back). I’ll see about morning runs and/or bike rides for the rest of the week, but won’t be biking into work, just in case “that call” comes in.

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  1. What? Are the cops allowed to shoot animals?

  2. Allison – my writing is probably failing me, but this animal was a public menace. It was walking on three legs, snarling at anything that came close to it, lashing out at anything that moved. If a dog had gotten loose, it would have attacked. Considering it was acting like I'd imagine a rabid raccoon acting, it had to be done.

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