four haikus from twelve/
photos of the twelfth again/
at squamloon.com
Another twelfth, another 12 of 12. To change things up, this month I’ve split my 12 into four “haikus” (quotes added to denote their distinct lack of true haiku-ness).
despite gym gadgets
post-summer data belies
gym-mirror belly
SquamLoon feels that a pluot by any other name would taste as sweet.
And have a better name.
Here’s my 12 of 12 for August—summer’s endgame.
For those who don’t know, 12 of 12 is an internet photo project—started by a guy named Chad—whereby every twelfth of the month, one collects twelve photos of the day and posts them. Here below is my 32nd consecutive twelfth. I continue to find the process to be a useful self-reflective dipstick.
By the way this month I’ve decided to cheat, sort of. While these are the twelve I chose, almost every caption has a link to another photo I’d've liked to include.
6:12am: I set my coffee and electric toothbrush on my Mac in front of the recently painted front door as I ran back in to grab my cell phone and say goodbye to the SquamDogs.
7:10am: I participated in a training in Keene all day every day this week. My drive on this morning was made more interesting by the fact that this pickup truck forced me to follow two convoys like this all the way down NH Rte 9.
8:03am: Having notwithstanding arrived at Antioch on time, I grabbed my class materials from their spot in my immaculate and organized car among my camera, CPAP machine, Malcolm Gladwell audiobook box set, and boat bag.
8:35am: These are the people with whom I spent a truly transformational week with Kim Carter from QED as she trained us to be Critical Friends Group coaches. The only one not pictured is in this shot from later in the day.
11:14am: Since my camera was next to J while I was presenting, she was kind enough to take a few shots of me unawares. Here I was in the midst of an Issaquah protocol around solving one of my bigger professional dilemmas. The best part of this protocol is that you end up with a pile of Post-it notes written by the group containing probing questions to ponder.
12:50pm: Lunch hour was always a welcome respite from some very deep thinking. Here we are giddily rushing back after a great meal at Keene Fresh Salad—recommended to me by a former student. (I ate there twice this week.)
4:53pm: Lucky for me, friends D&S live only twenty minutes from Keene, so I saved myself a few long drives by spending Tuesday and Thursday nights at their house. I arrived just as D was finishing up his workday in his home office…
5:09pm …and S was finishing up typing her lesson plans for her first week back at her high school teaching job. She jokingly scolded me that my stay two nights before had gotten her back in school mode.
5:10pm: This is the view of Mt. Monadnock that one wakes up to in D&S’ guest room. A five-star B&B. Bonus shot: a side view of the mountain from the drive to their house.
6:47pm: While D cooked, S and I agreed on how lucky we are to be able to stand around while our spouses cook amazing meals.
6:58pm: We had good conversation as always over D’s pasta primavera with sausage, and then postponed doing the dishes to watch…
8:58pm: …the finale of So You Think You Can Dance. It was a must-see in their household, and it didn’t disappoint. There were some truly powerful routines.
Voilà. See you in the school year.
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Nestled in my busy annual teacher’s summer vacation, there is always a sacred week when the family lake house is ours and ours alone. For the third year in a row, I’ve taken this time to set aside my BlackBerry and my laptop and disconnect from the world outside.
It just so happened that the twelfth fell on the first day of that week. And interestingly, even though I was cognizant of it being 12 of 12 day (my 31st consecutive!), I ended up with fewer pictures of it than I usually do. Luckily, I managed to scrounge up twelve I like.
Summer vacation for this teacher perhaps, but not for my wine-rep wife. While I was beginning my idyllic vacation-week-within-a-summer-vacation, her computer went on the fritz, she dropped her cell phone in the toilet, and her brakes froze up in the driveway as she was leaving for work.
So I told her to take my car, and asked my sister to come get me and all of the stuff I was taking to Squam for the week. It was not a good day for our driveway however, as the truck that AAA sent to take the car couldn’t make it up, and my sister’s Volvo was already so laden as to be unable to clear it either. She generously hiked the driveway three times to help bring everything down.
I have three sisters, born ten, nine, and five years before me. That was the eldest who rescued me, and this is third. They were both staying at the house next door.
My grandparents bought the Squam property in the 1930s, and they had powerboats there up until about 1972—when I was eight years old and my sisters were teenagers. Most of my parents’ generation, however, had a different mindset, and thought the lake should be experienced by sailboat, canoe, kayak, or rowboat—and once in a great while by the 7.5-horse putt-putt outboard. So for nearly 40 years, unless I’ve had a full day to paddle or putt, I really haven’t had an opportunity to fully explore the expanse of Squam’s 6800 acres.
Until now. That pretty boat at the dock, a 2003 Silverline 1705 with a 130-horse stern-drive Mercruiser, became mine at the end of June. I’ve christened her (him?) the Invictus.
Never in my life have I been happier about a purchase.
“We can go to the other side of the lake, like when we were kids!” said the middle sister over the phone when I told her the news. And indeed we can. Daily. At 40 miles per hour if we like. (By sheer coincidence, that’s both the posted speed limit on Squam and what the Invictus tops out at.)
Since Kasey and my SquamDogs haven’t yet learned to get along, mine stayed home for this ride. If you look closely, you can see my oh-so-well-trained pooches waiting for our return. Atop the the dining room table.
Prompted by a FaceBook suggestion from stepdaughter T2, I decided I really wanted to re-create the scene that my grandfather painted in 1971—a painting that hung in my childhood bedroom. I took this picture from the attic crawlspace, where I had hoped to find his easel, but didn’t. What I like about the shot, though, is that the blocks and the rocking horse were made by him, and I believe that the steamroller on the lower left was his childhood toy as well.
Since there’s no longer a mooring, it took forever for me to get the sailboat in anything close to the right position, especially given the wind direction. Grandpa’s perspective was definitely off, and he took a great deal of license on the mountains, but it’s still fun to see how level the bench used to be, and nostalgic to note the old Mouse Island boathouse.
P wouldn’t be joining me until the following night, so the SquamDogs and I had a solitary evening. We took a sunset cruise…
…and I grilled up some pre-packaged ribs and read some more of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.
I finished the day with a swim beneath the stars, and thanked my parents’ parents for the ten thousandth time for the choices they made nearly 80 years ago.
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SquamLoon will be fully disconnecting for a week beginning at 10:00 tomorrow morning.
SquamLoon has finally donned his toolbelt and ascended the ladder to finish last summer’s gutter installation.
SquamLoon has discovered that driving a boat while standing is actually a good workout for the legs and core.
SquamLoon is currently breathing through a snorkel.
