(SIDE NOTE: We have new paper. Who needs a bucket list, really?)
“I think we have to pound that in a little better.”
I have no idea what The Wife is talking about, though it’s not that far off from the typical Sunday morning chatter around here. That said, I’m glad to be home.
You don’t appreciate the mundane routine in your life until you are broken from it for a few days. Not that The Wife and The Kid are mundane. Quite the opposite, actually. As I was typing this, The Kid picked the least passable route through the kitchen to go from point A to point B while bellowing “Let It Go.” That route, by the way, was in between me and the dishwasher — a space of about 8 inches — and involved two sharp elbows to my kidneys. The grocery list is assembled and now I’m contemplating whether to change out of my sweatpants into shorts or not.
It’s these routines that I miss while I am gone. Do I regret the five days I spent in the Washington, D.C. metro area? Not in the least bit. I had a chance to catch up with Mary Kate, one of my longest and closest friends. I went to Founding Farmers twice (I had fried chicken and waffle both times. I’m such a little piggyboy.), one time with this crew of people:
While we chat on conference calls or by email, I only get to see these people once or twice a year. These are my colleagues from across the country that spend their days working on advancing our cause at the Alzheimer’s Association. A couple of them are based on D.C., but these are leaders from Minnesota, Arkansas, Oregon and South Carolina. They are tireless advocates and activists for our mission, and I have grown to not only respect them professionally, but find them wonderful people to hang out with. Spending the evening laughing and drinking together while eating some awesome food gave us a chance to do something that we rarely do: get together and not talk shop. It was quite nice.
I was introduced to Jaleo on this trip and had the chance to revisit Matchbox, our annual post-Capitol Hill haunt. For the past few years, my boss and I take our volunteer advocates to the flagship location for this citywide chain for gourmet pizza and beers. We debrief, relax and ramp up for the anxiety-riddled trip home. (Side note: United Airlines is terrible. They never cease to disappoint. If they were really “sorry for the inconvenience,” they would figure out a way not to suck.)
But, it’s good to be home to The Wife and The Kid. To my desk and my couch. To my bed. To my routine.