hppants
Well-known member
Overwhelmingly, life as a University administrator is pretty darn good. Ive got a corner office on the 2nd floor with 2 big windows overlooking the campus. Im fortunate to have a great career where I am challenged, respected, reasonably paid, and most importantly, given the authority and responsibility to administer my duties. The latter is a big one for Pants I cant have my boss sitting over my shoulder. My anal personality wont allow it. I tell others all the time that my professionalism is very selfish. I take ownership of my responsibilities to ensure I get to do them my way. My fear is that if I have to do it your way, I probably wont like it very much.
There are always trade-offs in the game of life and there are no exceptions in my work world. You are expected to deal with the questions that nobody knows the answers to. And with responsibility comes occasional stress. For a risk manager whos a self-proclaimed over-thinker with a little bit of paranoia, the boiling point is always within reach and Ive spent a good bit of time lately reigning in the pressure cooker. With maturity and experience comes wisdom. The world isnt always coming to an end. Every once in a while, you can pull the clutch of life without guilt because you know that when you get back, as long as nobody got hurt, everything else will get handled in due time.
Such was the case last week. The weather forecast was calling me one more itsy bitsy cool front reaching the gulf coast. Just one more north wind before the 6 month sauna over takes us. Its going to fall on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. I really should forget about this. Ive got reports due and an audit to prepare for. The in-box is exponentially higher than the out box and the secretary is constantly bringing me more crap to read and do. I get up and stand next to the window like a dog sitting in the car at the grocery store. He knows that the world just outside of that glass is paradise, where there are thousands of smells and people that will pet him and maybe even feed him.
But alas, the dog is forced to sit in this box and the waiting is the hardest part. I stare at a few co-eds recreating on the lawn in front of the dormitory. A couple are pitching the Frisbee. One is riding his bike along a wide sidewalk. Another one is lying down on her back reading a book peacefully. For 26 years, these young adults have fed me. They have the world by the balls and most of them know it. Their energy and happiness nourishes me, especially when I am craving it.
Staring out the window on that morning, I decide that I cant take it anymore. Thursday and Friday, Im playing hookie. I called my retired father and setup a fishing trip for Thursday. We were joined by a mutual friend, also retired. The 3 of us spent the day in the swamps near Stephensville, Louisiana perch jerking under the cypress trees. We caught around 50 bream and crappie and giggled like little boys making fart noises with their arm pits. We stopped and watched a momma bald eagle teaching her eaglets how to soar. Fifty feet up, they would peep at her asking for direction, and she would reply confidently that they were doing well. We watched them for 3 or 4 minutes in absolute silence, in sheer amazement that we were so incredibly lucky to witness this. I will never forget that moment.
On Friday, the weather continued as predicted and without the slightest bit of hesitation, I went riding. I packed a picnic lunch and my sandals, and left the house with no definite plan. The motorcycle is a wonderful tool for playing hookie.
I hope you enjoy the pics.
I left the house just in time for rush hour traffic. Normally torqued immensely by this, today I am patient as at least I know these peeps are rushing to work, and I am not.
Good things will come to those that wait
The traffic eases as I get on the I-10 heading East. I need to get across the Atchafalaya Basin swamp and the slab is the fastest way to do that.
The water is rising as the Spring rains combine with the snow melt from parts far north of here.
Near Grosse Tete, Louisiana, I get caught in some more traffic as the turntable bridge is opened for barge traffic.
The State identifies proper evacuation routes for Hurricanes to assist people in getting out. Thankfully, we do not have to worry about that any time soon.
Once the bridge opens, I pick off the slower traffic one by one as I am riding the twisty Hwy77. The FJR is running like the well-oiled machine that it is. I lean her left and right effortlessly, running 10-ish over through the countryside. At the town of Plaquemine, I decide to take the ferry across the mighty Mississippi River.
The earthen and concrete levees provide flood protection for the surrounding communities.
It would appear that we are all enjoying this gorgeous morning weather.
Soon the ferry appears and we load up. Riding across this floating gang way is interesting.
They put me first in line cool.
As we cross the river, Im entertained by all sorts of boat traffic.
Now on the east side of the river, I run the curvy road aside Alligator Bayou, then cross the Interstate near Prairieville. As I ride past my friend Redfish Hunters house, I think about him even though I know he is sleeping now as he is working nights. One day we will ride together. Hopefully his dad can join us too.
I turn onto Hwy 22 and ride along the Amite River.
The curvy roads in Louisiana always parallel a Bayou. When in doubt, find water and follow it.
In the small village of French Settlement, Louisiana, I stop for gas and a little shade underneath this 200-300 year old Oak Tree.
As I cross the Amite River closer to Springfield, I discover they are celebrating a regatta of some kind.
Everyone is enjoying the day.
There are always trade-offs in the game of life and there are no exceptions in my work world. You are expected to deal with the questions that nobody knows the answers to. And with responsibility comes occasional stress. For a risk manager whos a self-proclaimed over-thinker with a little bit of paranoia, the boiling point is always within reach and Ive spent a good bit of time lately reigning in the pressure cooker. With maturity and experience comes wisdom. The world isnt always coming to an end. Every once in a while, you can pull the clutch of life without guilt because you know that when you get back, as long as nobody got hurt, everything else will get handled in due time.
Such was the case last week. The weather forecast was calling me one more itsy bitsy cool front reaching the gulf coast. Just one more north wind before the 6 month sauna over takes us. Its going to fall on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. I really should forget about this. Ive got reports due and an audit to prepare for. The in-box is exponentially higher than the out box and the secretary is constantly bringing me more crap to read and do. I get up and stand next to the window like a dog sitting in the car at the grocery store. He knows that the world just outside of that glass is paradise, where there are thousands of smells and people that will pet him and maybe even feed him.
But alas, the dog is forced to sit in this box and the waiting is the hardest part. I stare at a few co-eds recreating on the lawn in front of the dormitory. A couple are pitching the Frisbee. One is riding his bike along a wide sidewalk. Another one is lying down on her back reading a book peacefully. For 26 years, these young adults have fed me. They have the world by the balls and most of them know it. Their energy and happiness nourishes me, especially when I am craving it.
Staring out the window on that morning, I decide that I cant take it anymore. Thursday and Friday, Im playing hookie. I called my retired father and setup a fishing trip for Thursday. We were joined by a mutual friend, also retired. The 3 of us spent the day in the swamps near Stephensville, Louisiana perch jerking under the cypress trees. We caught around 50 bream and crappie and giggled like little boys making fart noises with their arm pits. We stopped and watched a momma bald eagle teaching her eaglets how to soar. Fifty feet up, they would peep at her asking for direction, and she would reply confidently that they were doing well. We watched them for 3 or 4 minutes in absolute silence, in sheer amazement that we were so incredibly lucky to witness this. I will never forget that moment.
On Friday, the weather continued as predicted and without the slightest bit of hesitation, I went riding. I packed a picnic lunch and my sandals, and left the house with no definite plan. The motorcycle is a wonderful tool for playing hookie.
I hope you enjoy the pics.
I left the house just in time for rush hour traffic. Normally torqued immensely by this, today I am patient as at least I know these peeps are rushing to work, and I am not.
Good things will come to those that wait
The traffic eases as I get on the I-10 heading East. I need to get across the Atchafalaya Basin swamp and the slab is the fastest way to do that.
The water is rising as the Spring rains combine with the snow melt from parts far north of here.
Near Grosse Tete, Louisiana, I get caught in some more traffic as the turntable bridge is opened for barge traffic.
The State identifies proper evacuation routes for Hurricanes to assist people in getting out. Thankfully, we do not have to worry about that any time soon.
Once the bridge opens, I pick off the slower traffic one by one as I am riding the twisty Hwy77. The FJR is running like the well-oiled machine that it is. I lean her left and right effortlessly, running 10-ish over through the countryside. At the town of Plaquemine, I decide to take the ferry across the mighty Mississippi River.
The earthen and concrete levees provide flood protection for the surrounding communities.
It would appear that we are all enjoying this gorgeous morning weather.
Soon the ferry appears and we load up. Riding across this floating gang way is interesting.
They put me first in line cool.
As we cross the river, Im entertained by all sorts of boat traffic.
Now on the east side of the river, I run the curvy road aside Alligator Bayou, then cross the Interstate near Prairieville. As I ride past my friend Redfish Hunters house, I think about him even though I know he is sleeping now as he is working nights. One day we will ride together. Hopefully his dad can join us too.
I turn onto Hwy 22 and ride along the Amite River.
The curvy roads in Louisiana always parallel a Bayou. When in doubt, find water and follow it.
In the small village of French Settlement, Louisiana, I stop for gas and a little shade underneath this 200-300 year old Oak Tree.
As I cross the Amite River closer to Springfield, I discover they are celebrating a regatta of some kind.
Everyone is enjoying the day.
