The other day, the company for which I slave… I mean happily
work… had another “Lunch and Learn”
These are fairly regular casual times, over lunch, during
which a very nice lady named Roni comes by and patiently tries to teach a bunch
of old dogs some new health, dietary, and wellness tricks. A bonus is, that as
the name implies, there is food. Our
Human Resources department adheres to that time-honored adage of PTA’s, church
rummage sales, and political fund-raisers: “If you cook it, they will come.”
There have been a variety of topics; how to make sense out
of nutrition labels on food packaging, controlling hypertension (in the old
days, it was called “high blood pressure”) without a truckload of
prescriptions, to healthy snacking. An oxymoron if ever I heard one.
The most recent was quite intriguing: How to Reduce Stress.
Although determining alcohol was not part of the regimen, I signed up
anyhow.
How apropos that the day in question was one rife with
stress.
Our senior dog, Mimi, gently awakened me conveying her need
to go outdoors. I sleepily groped for my
glasses, shoved my feet in the ugly dog-walking Crocs, and hoisted Mimi up.
Making our way down the stairs, I absently hoped my pj pants would stay in
place. While Mimi waking me is hardly noteworthy, at quarter past five in the
morning I did notice the paper carrier stopping at our neighbor’s, a car
running the flashing stop light at a nearby intersection, and a roving raccoon
snuffling around the dumpster.
Mimi must have been reading Pavlov’s laboratory notes as of
late, as she has determined that following going outdoors, she must have
breakfast; regardless of the time. She expresses her desire with a series of
short, high-pitched little yaps until I finally relent, plopping her food bowl before
her. Hmm… wait… she gets me up, gets me to take her outdoors, barks at me, resulting in me getting her food. I am beginning to pick up on a pattern here.
This commotion results in Ike being roused from his slumber.
He is demanding equal time, so back out-doors we go. The raccoon has satisfied
himself at the dumpster, and is now waddling into the tree line. Another paper
carrier stops by the neighbor’s, and I discover something on the ground I would
rather have not discovered. It confirms the Canada geese have returned. Coming
back indoors, Ike gets his breakfast, a couple pats on the head, and Mimi is
packed off to bed again.
I gratefully lay down for a restful 30 minutes power nap. An
hour later, I leap out of bed. In a breakfast less whirlwind, I prepare to
leave for the office.
Naturally, I was totally unaware this morning was “National
Drive Like You’re Going to A Root Canal Day.” Every vehicle I got behind was
cruising along at a leisurely 10 miles per hour BELOW the posted speed limit! Toss
in an unexpected school bus for additional giggles.
This on one of the few times I had a first thing,
must-be-on-it conference call!
I slipped in under the radar about 5 minutes after the call
started. Things just sort of continued to unwind from there. It was non-stop
phone calls, e-mails, “Oh! Can you help with this? Can you work on that?” Three
large bids I had been working on lurked at the side of my desk, silently imploring
“Don’t forget about us!”
Naturally, due to a last minute phone call from one of our
sales people, I slipped into the conference room about 10 minutes late. Roni
had soft music playing, lavender scented candles aglow, and the lights lowered.
Seated around the table were several of my co-workers munching away on wraps,
salads, soup and other goodies.
Following a presentation regarding several different ways
(no, alcohol was not one of them) to spur on relaxation and kick stress in the
chops, Roni offered to lead us in a visualization exercise we can use any
place, any time we are feeling stressed.
While we closed our eyes, she led us to a beautiful tropical
beach, white sand stretching for miles along a picture perfect blue ocean.
White combers rolled ashore, retreating with that mysterious hissing sound only a returning wave can make. Gulls
wheeled over head in graceful flight, their cries adding harmony to the melody
of the waves. The fronds of palm trees rustle in a soft, warm breeze; replete
with the salty, primeval fragrance of the sea. I sit upon a small hummock of
warm white sand, watching the endless advance and retreat of the ocean. I can
feel the grains of sand between my toes; I revel in the wild symphony of color
the setting sun provides. I feel dampness about my derriere. I notice the
dampness becoming a warm surging wetness. It is then I realize I had neglected
to visualize checking the tide table in the local tropical paper!
Yet, as the afternoon rolled on, I found myself taking
several visual vacations.
Along about 2:30, I was somewhat surprised to be walking
through a mountain meadow. The sun was warm upon my back, a blue sky dappled
with white fluffy clouds stretched far and wide. The chuckle and gurgle of the
wild stream played in my ears. My fishing rod felt good in my hands. I knew a
cut-throat trout was just waiting for me. Carefully, I affixed a 5 inch Pinkie
to the hook. With a flick of the wrist, the line arched gracefully over the
clear as crystal water; landing within 4 inches of that singularly perfect
trout’s lair. I feel the slightest vibration in the line as the wild fish tests
the offering. Easy, easy… wait, just a bit.. NOW! I set the hook, and the fight
is on. The desk phone in my creel on the stream bank begins to warble…
POOF… like that, a perfect Wyoming fishing trip gone!
I persevere with the matters at hand upon my desk, my
in-box, and lurking behind that nagging, diabolical, flashing “msg” light on my phone.
Oddly, about 3:45, I took a couple deep breaths, closed my
eyes for a moment… and… my Lovely Bride and I are strolling along the Champs
Elysees on a gorgeous Parisian spring day. The flowers are beyond description;
the colors so vibrant. We stop by a small café for a demitasse of freshly
roasted and ground coffee. With delight, we look over the shoulder of an artist
painting the Arc de Triomphe. Stopping by a brazier tended by an elderly man
who looks like he came from Central Casting; we are intrigued by the skill with
which he grills breasts of squab. In the distance, I hear the gendarme who
resembles Claude Rains*, with a voice similar to that of the boss, but with the
most charming French accent; “Hopkins, what in the world are you doing?” I am
astonished at the officer’s excellent grasp of English and being on a personal
name basis with him.
Roni had failed to mention that Visualized Vacations can
seem to be real; embarrassedly so at time.
I enjoyed little mini-trips throughout the evening. Skiing
in the Swiss Alps, strolling the streets of Old Jerusalem, watching lobster
boats return to port along the Maine coast; the list was impressive.
As I climbed the stairs for bed, I eagerly anticipated
tomorrow’s travel itinerary.
*Played Captain Louis Renault, Casablanca, 1942
