I swim in it, as in a sea.

I missed calling my father on his birthday yesterday.  He turned 74 and we were just remarking on how great he looks for someone whose life has occasionally been peppered with drama.  Birthdays have never been too big of a deal between us and the half heard speaker phone calls of my kids singing off key never seem warranted or appreciated.  Yet still I lament about it here.  Guilty fingers as well as feet have no rhythm.  Yet I bet I do dance again.

So 2012.  What is in store in this 43^rd year of my life.  Wife?  Check.  Two kids?  Check.  Health?  Semi check as I do think I either increased my alcohol intake last year, or, due to my 80-90 lbs weight loss, I drank the same, just felt the effect more severely.  In any event, the January detox has lasted two days, but with post basketball pints looming, it may be over quickly.  Job?  Check, although I must do something quickly to provoke some challenge, and by challenge I mean good challenge, not try to steal a computer or a work station on the weekend challenge, or try to walk the 300 ft to the bathroom with my penis out challenge.  Those challenges would be fun, but would definitely not serve the same career path focus that is needed to keep the dream alive.  What is the dream?  To not get fired naturally.  To excel from a public relations aspect, not just a people relations aspect.  To feel a sense of satisfaction from not just the end result of a glowing piece in a major newspaper, but an ongoing program of success, that may start organically, yet turn into something that drives sales over the long term.

Wow – that was the most I have ever written about work.    Just changed font and font size to keep the page alive and open to receiving more words.    It’s tricky.  Tricky, tricky, tricky.

The holiday season was pretty sweet.  10 days off in a row for the first time in my professional life.  Eight days spent up north at Three Mile Lake, first with lovely sister and family and then with lovely (mostly) friends.  The boys were spoiled by both Santa toys and parental attention.   I was able to sit on a quad lift with my three favourite people and, while only suffering a mild hangover panic attack, make it to the top of the small hill. I then weaved this bowling pin body down to the bottom without tearing an ACL or crushing anyone waiting in line.  Thumbs up!!

The food was fantastic and we spent way too much money ensuring the meal plan was both abundant and a mix between homey and gourmet.  We had a huge pot of corn and bacon chowder and of course my chili and jalapeno cheddar scones for all to have over the multiple mid afternoon munchies.  The NYE dinner was prime rib with nasal clearing horseradish, Yorkshire pudding, roasted red potatoes and grilled carrots with ginger and maple syrup.   Oh, and it all started with a mixed green and grilled shrimp salad to cleanse everyone’s palate before the slab of meat met the plates.   We had brilliant bottles of red wine and even a couple of huge magnums of blush to keep everyone honest.  I mixed vodka, triple sec and cranberry shots and poured them from the mouth of a chicken pitcher, and yet there was not one cock joke to be found.  The morning was hazy and lazy, and even with some high school drama, we all managed to eek out a few more laughs before the party ended on the 2^nd.   I even danced with my sons to Flo Rida.  And we fucking owned the floor.

We came home through a blustery and occasionally tedious snowstorm which Steph chose to be the driver.  Leaving me no choice but to hold the empty diet 7up bottle for Tasman to pee in as we trudged down highway 400.

Last night we took down the tree.  Another beautiful Graham/White rendition of white lights and ornaments we have collected over the 14 Christmases spent together.  Such a mixed bag; kindergarten creations, a star stolen from a centerpiece, a giant light bulb emblazoned with a Sharpie holiday message from a since split up couple, farm animals given as a joke, yet remained as tradition.  Other classics, from cheese to ornate, from silly to stunning, from eyes rolling to eyes tearing at the origin of each little historical trinket from Christmas past.    I can only imagine what it will look like in 20 years, added to by our grown boys, some past down from passed away parents, new friends making their mark by hanging their dinner party offering and old friends solidifying their spot in our lives with their own gift, their own holiday bauble.

It was a good holiday.   But now the tree is gone and the living room is back in order, old clutter back where new clutter once stood.  I changed Tasman’s room around as he was too close to the recent, bitter cold.  I like it better the new way and after a bit of time, Steph admitted she liked it too.   I rarely win these battles, so I was happy when she conceded.

I do love her.  I am lucky to have all these people in my life.

***

I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough,

To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,

To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,

To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment—what is this, then?

I do not ask any more delight—I swim in it, as in a sea.