Magnosticism

I was travel-challenged this week. First, I left my phone adapter at home for my trip to Milwaukee, so my mobile died on day 2. Then, I left my laptop power cord at the client site, which combined with the 30-minute capacity of my Vaio battery left me very unproductive on the flight home. Losing your cell phone and your laptop capabilities in the same day is very humbling; I was instantly antsy at my inability to connect, to log in, to download. I was reduced to a passive state, reading a newspaper and wondering what was happening that I wasn’t aware of. Troubling.

Apologies to my small but loyal readership for my horrific drop-off of posts to this space. My editorial consulting biz has been hurtling along at about 150% capacity since September, and I recently added a new twist (literally) by tearing the ACL in my right knee, which knocked my productivity for a loop. (Those of you expecting an adventurous tale of derring-do or sports-related heroics regarding the injury will be sadly disappointed: I blew out the knee scrimmaging with my daughter’s U-12 soccer team.)

You’d think I’d have quite a stockpile of blog ideas after blowing it off for so long, but that’s not the case. I’ve been staring at my home page off an on for days with no fresh ideas on what to write about, just an increasing sense of frustration over the moldy headlines. Seems like I need to retrain myself to blog, just like I’ll be retraining my knee to act like a knee again.

All in all, very frustrating. Part of the draw for starting my own business was so I could tend to things like this blog without the weight of a corporate job dragging me down. Now I’ve overextended myself to the point where I can’t spend the time focusing on the things that are important to me and my business (beyond paying the bills). May be time for a reset. Or maybe it’s just the meds talking!

Interesting day at the airport. The US Air self-service kiosks didn’t allow me to check myself in, so I stood in line for a half-hour to speak to an agent. Got to the agent, said the kiosk didn’t work for me, and she asked (without looking up, of course), “Why not?” (I’m pretty sure she was joking).

Next, security. Another half-hour wait. At 1:15 pm, feeling a little dizzy, I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything yet today.

Through security, time to find some grub. Stood in line at a sandwich kiosk. Grabbed a tuna sandwich, a bag of Route 11 Salty & Spicy Potato Chips (highly recommended) and a Poland Spring. I put my items on the counter, and the check-out clerk writes the price for each on a piece of paper as the manager/owner stands next to her, frantically imploring to someone on the other end of his cell phone, “Please reboot the server!” This is not good. The math-challenged server pauses and stares for a few seconds at the numbers she has written on her pad, before tallying the first column:

$7.28
$2.17
$2.17
———
       6

That’s as far as she gets, and now seems stuck. The line behind me grows. The manager is poking his clerk in the arm and pointing to the handheld calculator next to her writing pad. She ignores him. I hand the woman $15 and say, “How about we say $12 and call it even?” She seems to like this idea, and gives me $3.

At the gate across from me, a US Air agent has taken on the role of carnival barker to convince three passengers to bump to accommodate their oversold status. “Step right up, we need three volunteers to give up their seats, better incentives than ever before and a great weekend in DC!” No takers.

The airline just paged Thomas Edison.

My wife Kathy and I ditched the kids with my brother and sister-in-law last week to celebrate our 20th anniversary. We spent two nights at the Stoweflake in Stowe, Vt., better known as a ski town but a semi-interesting summer destination as well. Best part (other than being by ourselves for two full days) was the balloon festival, held on the Stoweflake grounds. I haven’t been around so much hot air since I worked for McKinsey (rim shot).

Back to work tomorrow.

Father’s Day is bittersweet around our house, since my dad passed away in 1992 and my wife Kathy’s father died a few years later. My kids never got to know their grandfathers, and in a way I never got to know these two men as well as I should have.

I was 31 when my dad, Patrick Pearse O’Regan Sr., died of cancer and congestive heart failure and hadn’t yet reached that stage where I truly appreciated - or thanked him for - all the things, large and small, that he did for me over the years. Neither of us were big talkers, so we didn’t share a lot of Hallmark moments between father and son. (Our sex talk came when I was 17 and had been dating a girl for a few years. One night he asked, “Are you sleeping with her?” “Nope,” I lied. “Good,” he said. “Don’t do anything stupid.” That was that.) We called him The Big Guy, and he led by example, not by words. Not all of his examples were the best, but he taught me the value of hard work, the benefits of a sense of humor and, indirectly at least, the importance of family.

Robert “Dave” Davidson, my father-in-law, was both gregarious and laid back, two traits you might expect from a Californian. Our physical distance - Kathy and I lived in San Diego for a few years but moved back East in 1986 - kept “Mr. D” and I from bonding, but I always enjoyed his company and his perspectives, and he seemed happy with his daughter’s choice of a husband. Dave was healthy as a horse and amazingly active with his wife Helen until multiple myeloma took him swiftly and shockingly. I wish I had the chance to get to know him better.

So now I try to spend more time with our three kids, asking them a lot of annoying questions, coaching their teams, driving them everywhere, and just being there if they need me. We had a good Father’s Day this year - waffles for breakfast, a day game at Fenway Park, a quiet night at home. Somewhere, I hope the Big Guy and Mr. D are happy with what they see down here.

Off to the Redneck Riviera for a family wedding/reunion, which I am looking forward to on many levels: celebrating the nuptials of one of my nephews and his Southern belle; seeing my brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, and inlaws in the first official family reunion since my mom passed away in 2002; detaching from work for a couple of days; and being on a warm beach. Will be back online next week.  

April showers bring … school cancellations. Sigh.

Winter has finally reached New England, as our first Nor’easter of the year rolls in. A foot or so of snow is expected, possibly with some freezing rain mixed in. The kids are excited about their first snow day of the year, though the younger ones are missing their Valentine’s Day parties at school. All in all, I’d rather be golfing in Myrtle Beach, but it’s nice to finally see some snow.

Back online after spending much of the past three days without power thanks to Monday’s ice storm across southern NH. No electricity, no heat, no water, and ohmigod no broadband for part of Monday, most of Tuesday and half the day yesterday. My daily routine was replaced by frequent trips to Home Depot and the neighborhood Benson’s Hardware in search of portable heaters, propane, flashlight batteries, Duraflames and (finally) a backup generator to keep the pipes from freezing as temps dipped to a toasty 1 degree yesterday morning. The house held up pretty well; the owner is still recovering from Tuesday’s all-nighter spent stoking the fire, changing propane tanks and adding extra insulation to the pipes in the basement.

An ice storm knocked out power across southern NH yesterday. Ours was out between 11 am and 5 pm, then again between 7:45 and 10:15 pm - cruelly encompassing the entire 2-hour, second-night season premiere of my beloved 24. No on-demand options that I can see from Fox, which relegates me to reading the text-based synopsis on their site. Life is cruel.