Insidious Adaptation

“I hate peas.” As my wife stirs the vegetarian ravioli inside the deep skillet. “I mean, why do they have to put peas in there, just because it’s vegetarian?” Silence   As I am writing this it just dawned on me that peas have pea protein, and for vegetarians maybe besides the cheese in the ravioli, it was a protein source, ahhh…   I am going to make my own vegetarian meal, eggs, butter, and spinach leaves. The time is 5:45 PM. As one last episode of Bob’s Burgers, plays in the background, a familiar phrase indicates the show's closing, my wife and I prepare dinner to continue with this habit of “dinners together.” I personally love it. Even if most of the food we make for our 2-going-on-30 daughter goes in the trash, it is so nice to sit together for even five minutes. A lot of work, but nice. “This is nice” my wife confirms my own thoughts, challenging my acceptance for comfort and fighting the desire to throw in a sarcastic joke. An old tendency to ruin that which is pure, ...

This might be the worst, most despicable time of the week. We are just enough in, yet not far enough to see the weekend. For it is the " weekend," that seems to be the ultimate goal to the week, hope a Saturday or Sunday provides, more potential, more freedom; those 48 hours, a sunnier, warmer time. If Monday is cold, Tuesday is luke-warm at best. A bathwater feel as the time lingers on. The day exhausted, yet there is more left, the gas tank has to remain mostly full for there is so much journey ahead.   I try to be mindful and appreciative of all times, for none has to be better than another, however there is this undeniable connection with the weekend that a person appreciates and looks forward to, only to start all over again the next week. Man wants freedom, we want the availability to make our own decisions, outside of the confounds of this desk, this window, these people, this schedule, yet if I had all the time in the world, work would be my escape. I see the...