Catching An Edge

I spent the better part of the weekend down in town at my parents, camped out in front of the computer, watching the Minnesota High School Boys Hockey Tournament. It was some of the best tournament action in years and we even had the pleasure of having a northern team to cheer for in both the Class A and Class AA championship games.

When you watch a lot of hockey, you notice a fair amount of players take spills to the ice. Most players who end up falling are checked or bumped by other players, but every once in a while you see a player skating along, seemingly uninhibited, suddenly topple. In the world of hockey, we call it catching an edge. A hockey skate is sharpened to have two edges: the inner and the outer. The edges allow you to turn easily, but once in a while you'll be skating on the flat of your skate only to turn your foot just so an edge grabs the ice and throws off your balance. Down you go.

This weekend ended with me catching the proverbial edge. Nothing heartbreaking, nothing terribly life changing, just a bad break.

As a former hockey player (did you know?), I can assure you that catching an edge is embarrassing, always untimely, and never without consequences. But I've caught a few edges in my day, both on and off the ice, and I've learned from those many tumbles.

When you stop sliding down the ice, you've got to pull yourself to the your feet as quickly as possible. Sure you might be a little behind the play now. But if you skate hard enough, you can make it seem like it never happened. And sooner or later, you'll get a chance to catch your breath.

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A Whole Lot of Static

Things have been feeling a little static around here lately.

I couldn't figure out why time seems to have been going so amazingly fast since the new year.

Then I realized the weird passage of time so far this year might have something to do with the fact that this picture (taken January 2, 2011) could have been taken yesterday. No wonder I'm always surprised to find that we're suddenly at Thursday again each week. When there's so external indicator of time passing, each flip of a calendar page can be pretty surprising. All that static really messes with your senses.

I have hard time gauging progress when the world around me is buzzing with static. It's easy to feel like I'm not doing enough. Making kind of absurd goals like writing 50,000 words in one month, starts to sound like a good way to anchor myself in the present.

But even if the world is frozen and snowy and spring seems a long time off, time is passing. When I really look at things, I see progress and accomplishment.

So when I woke up on Tuesday morning with the stomach flu that Andy'd had a couple weeks back which I was so sure I wasn't getting, I tried not to feel too bad about what that meant for my 50,000 word count goal for the month of March. Instead, I gave myself permission to nap, to rest up a little bit.  I can't sleep until the spring thaw comes, but I can grab myself a little more energy to deal with winter's lingering static.

Stomach flu or not (hopefullly not!), I hope you're all giving yourself plenty of permission to nap during this late winter too!

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Getting Your Feet Wet

Over these days off our friend Andrew is up for some canoeing, bbqing, and general Northwoods hanging out. This morning, Andy and Andrew decided to go down to fish lake trout in a nearby lake. Although I had plenty of work to get done at home, I decided to tag along.

Once we got to the canoe launch, I decided I didn’t want to get my feet wet. Although I had perfectly fine water proof sandals on, the thought of plunging my feet into mucky, cool water just didn’t sound pleasant. So I perched precariously on a small rock and tiptoed into the canoe while Andy and Andrew rolled their eyes.

The whole process reminded me of what I do every time I get a new freelance assignment. I’m always hot to trot with a new assignment, but when it comes to that initial phone call I hem and haw. I think of perfectly legitimate reasons to procrastinate the start of the project. I do whatever I can to put it off. I’m happy to do the assignment once I have all the material, it’s that first hurtle which poses the biggest risk to my success.

Back on the lake this morning, we paddled down to the east end of the lake and portaged into a designated trout lake. We set our lines and trolled down the lake. I succeeded only in hooking Andy’s line.

With no fish biting, we decided to head back home for the afternoon. At the portage landing, a swim seemed in order. So I stripped down to my swimsuit and jumped right in. Now how hard was that?

On the way back, it took all three of us paddling against the strong west wind to get us back to the car. As we cursed the wind and struggled to keep the canoe on course, I never once thought about my wet feet. If you’re willing to jump in, it seems the stuff that’s really hard isn’t so bad at all.

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Like Fishing, Like Life

I’ve heard it said that there are two great metaphors for life: a river and a garden. Last night I decided there might be a third great metaphor for life: fishing.

You know, you make sure you have everything ready, you hope everything works, and then you head off, knowing that anytime, your motor may fail, forcing you to paddle back to shore. Once you’re out on the water, you throw in your line, bob around a bit, and wait for something to come to you. Maybe not a metaphor for the most proactive of lives, but a slice of life, nonetheless.

We weren’t the most patient fishermen last night. We caught a lot more snags than we caught fish (okay, so there wasn’t even a nibble), which was fine by me. After a busy and sticky hot day at work, I was happy just to be floating about in a boat, enjoying the light breeze and the cooler evening temperatures.

After the relaxing time in the middle of the lake, we came back home, where I made popcorn over the stove and managed to get a potholder on fire. Nothing like starting off days off with a bang. The popcorn was really good though, and the flaming potholder was immediately flung into a basin of dishwater.

Today’s my first day off in eight days (I realize that since I work increasingly as a freelancer, days off are a highly arbitrary concept) and while that fact doesn’t exactly signal “the end of the world,” I’m looking forward to not spending the next two days at work, per se. There are blueberries to pick, a commentary or two to write, some fishing, and a baby loon in the bay to watch grow up.

It’s heating up to be another scorcher outside. Better add swimming to the agenda.

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