Sylvia's Journal

Yesterday and today we are ‘retreating’ with our center for leadership and management. It is a retreat in order to advance, much like taking a few steps back to get more speed for a big jump. The big jump is about figuring out how to stay sane while taking on an ever increasing workload especially for the aging baby boomers like some of us are, the grey hairs as Alison calls us (even though hers aren’t really showing and the guys have less and less of it). We pretend to have the same stamina but we don’t. It is about working smarter rather than harder and better use all the young energy and talent that is around us.

I rushed out of the session I was facilitating, hastily handing the wrap up to a colleague, to show up in time for my pre-op appointment with the carpal tunnel nurse only to be parked in a waiting room for an hour. It is the same nurse I saw over a year ago and she asked me the same questions and we had exactly the same conversation. It must get tedious doing this over and over again but if it was, she didn’t let on.

When I got home the clouds that had hovered all day over Boston and the north shore had lifted and Lobster Cove was at its best. Axel was anxious to get out of the house. The clutter, dust bunnies and mold that is growing in the basement had gotten to him; he was having an allergic reaction that had made him grumpy; all this came on top of having spent the day doing his least favorite things, paying bills and doing homework. My arrival gave him someone to complain to; going outdoors seemed like a good idea for everyone. Armed with a pumpkin beer I followed Axel to the rocks at the mouth of the cove for a brief fishing expedition before sunset. I usually don’t come along on these outings because I find fishing boring when nothing happens and way too exciting when a fish is caught. I cannot stand to see the poor thing with the nasty hook in its fragile mouth struggling against the hard rocks to get it out.

To everyone’s surprise Axel caught an 18 inch striper. He couldn’t believe it himself, shouting omigod, omigod, as he reeled the fish in; and then I had to sit there and witness exactly the part I don’t like. I kept asking to be sent on an errand to the house for something so I didn’t have to sit there and sympathize with the frantic fish that was hitting itself on the jagged rocks and losing scales left and right. I stayed occupied as the official event photographer, since otherwise no one would believe that he actually caught a fish. It was too small to be a keeper.

The agony did not last long and soon the fish was back in the water, probably sending out SOS signals to all fish a mile around to stay away from Lobster Cove. Axel casted a few more times hoping for a repeat but the sun was setting. Besides, Tessa was serving dinner, chicken pie, no fish this time.