2010: Chopped locks and snakeskin

I seem to be having some sort of 1/4 life crisis. Or maybe it's closer to a 1/3 life crisis by now (108 might be pushing it...81's not so far off). I'm not sure why the crisis - and by "crisis", I mean something more akin to bemused contemplation - but it is manifesting itself in expensive and perplexing ways. While back in the States during the last month, for instance, I paid a non-negligible sum of money to: chop off all my hair into some hypothetically chic new do, buy skinny jeans, purchase a bathing suit with a pattern reminiscent of snakeskin, and buy a pair of designer glasses with impressively vivid orange temples. Not exactly monumental events in the grand scheme of things, true, but they all have one thing in common - they are way too cool for me.

Fortunately, I have recently returned to Uganda, where such indulgences are harder to come by, thereby helping to protect against the hazards of a misguided sense of your level of cool. However, the "change" theme continues in its insignificant but relatively rewarding and slightly more affordable ways.

Example A: I came home to a new dresser. This was not a surprise, in that I actually went back to the same side-of-the-road workshop that did my bed and bedside tables and ordered the dresser before I left for Christmas, but it was only delivered while I was away and I was rather delighted to find it already settled into my room upon my return. There was no real reason for its purchase, other than that I wanted more surface area on which to deposit my daily debris, and have some nonsensical yet deep-rooted conviction that all bedrooms should have a proper dresser, even if it takes nearly a year before it is inaugurated. However, it is a rather imposing piece of furniture, approaching the height of myself, and juts out obstructively into the middle of the floor as if to stake its claim, which is why I am no longer allowed to design my own furniture. Or make any decisions involving measuring tape.

Example B: Starting yesterday and concluding, for the most part, today, HCP moved offices. Granted, I cannot take credit for this, as it is a merely a reflection of our expanding staff size and need for more space, but it is still a welcome change for 2010. Whereas the previous office was a hop, skip and a jump away, the new building is a hop, skip, and three jumps away - still less than a 5 minute walk. It is bright and airy and big, with the exception of my office, which is bright and airy and small (a relief that it is not home the dresser). Still, the rest of Plot 15 Binayomba Avenue feels a lot like a mansion, so I scuttled around productively checking out everyone's new digs and making the office at the top of the stairs my own, happily rediscovering my books and manuals and binders and folders and posters and office supplies after more than a month away. As all rags and paper towels had disappeared into the black hole that is the backdrop to any moving day, I dusted off my professional life with bare hands, which only became a problem when I realized we were not yet connected to the water supply.

Example C: I swam in our pool tonight. Not just a typical dip-in-and-cool-off, swim, which itself only happens once in a blue moon, but a nearly proper swim with something suggestive of laps. Our pool is little bigger than your average bathtub, but I discovered I can get in a solid 7 and a half strokes before running into the wall. Between this discovery, the bike I own and rarely use (ignore that, Julia and Kenny), and the inaccurate yet addictive Nike + iPod running sensor Mitch got me for Christmas (it registered a 34-minute mile the other day, whereas the treadmill clocked just over 7), I have high hopes for dysfunctional do-it-yourself triathlons in the near future.

Example D: I rode down the street to get dinner on the back of a bicycle boda-boda tonight. I realize that, given the last blog entry, I am not supposed to be riding boda-bodas in any form any longer, but old habits (and blog titles) die hard. Why I took the bicycle version rather than the motorized version I have no idea, other than the fact that it was something new, which I apparently can't get enough of. However, I think its newness has already become and will remain part of my past, as it was considerably more precarious than your standard boda-boda.

(Image stolen from www.hobotraveler.com/travel-journal/boda-boda-made-in-india.html)

Of course, no blog entry with the theme of change written in the month of January can go without reference to New Year's resolutions. This year, I have decided that if I resolute in a public electronic space, I may be more inclined to follow through. They are, in no particular order, to:

1.) Climb Mount Kilimanjaro. Plans are in motion with Kay and Matt (my sister's beau) for a trip sometime in May/June, give or take some number of months. While home, I stocked up on ugly hiking gear (boots, wool socks, TechWick base layers, trekking pants), all of which were pretty painful purchases, as I live in near perfect summer weather and will use said gear for 6 days of my entire life. Or perhaps I'll become a hiker.

(Image stolen from somewhere on http://www.watanzania-roma.blogspot.com/)

2.) Invest. In something. Albeit a slightly lesser amount than originally anticipated, given the snakeskin swimsuit shopping spree. Make contact with a financial planner - check.

3.) Be in better touch with the Baltimore office. Yes, Baltimore, you heard it in public electronic space here first. I hereby vow to send work updates - or at least CC you - more than once every 9 months, which I believe has been my track record over the last 2 years in the field.

4.) Master a level one piano book. Those 8 years of violin lessons may not have been completely in vain. Kay and I sat down at the Gardner's piano on Christmas Day, and made our way through the book of beginner Christmas carols. Unless it was a Christmas miracle, I can still read music. I have no idea what to do with my left hand, and my right doesn't like moving from the home row (insert the correct word for the piano equivalent of this typing position), but by Jove, I'm determined to be musical in some sense of the word. If only I hadn't left the book in Baltimore.

5.) I'm not sure yet, but feel like there need to be 5. I'm open to suggestions. At the risk of whatever relationship you and I may have.

Happy New Year, oh loyal readers, sporadic fans, and former broomball teammates that greet me at unexpected times and in unexpected places with unexpected yet welcome rebuke for my failure to blog with any regularity. May 2010 bring you all a mammoth piece of impractical furniture.