Two Days in the Life

Kris and I have dinner together at least once a week still. I was over at the house for tacos the other night, for instance, when she asked me, “So, what do you do with your time now? What’s your day like?” Then, in a recent discussion at my personal finance blog, a reader asked the same question.

So, in true blogger fashion, here’s a look at what I’ve done with my time over the past two days.

Note: To set the scene, I now live in an apartment in NE Portland, where I’m walking distance from almost everything. I love it. The divorce isn’t finalized — and won’t be for days, or weeks, or months — but Kris and I have been living apart for about a month now. We’re still finding our future path together, but we’re both committed to remaining friends.

Thursday
On Thursday, I slept in. In general, I try to get up at 5:30 so that I can make the 6:30 Crossfit class. That hasn’t happened much since I moved to my apartment though. I’ve had chronic insomnia, for one thing. For another, I’ve discovered that I enjoy visiting other class sessions throughout the day. So, Thursday I slept in.

Note: I didn’t do any formal exercise on Thursday. That happens about twice a week. I take “rest days” from Crossfit to give my body a break. Still, Thursday wasn’t sedentary. As you’ll see, I walked more than six miles around Portland.

I got out of bed at 7:00 and immediately went to work. For the next four hours, I answered e-mail. (If I keep current with e-mail, it’s not a problem. If I fall behind, it takes hours — or days — to catch up.) I also jotted outlines for three blog posts. As I worked, I did my laundry, which is something I haven’t had to do in years.

At 11:00, I stopped working and began to study Spanish. This included reading a book (El Alquimista) and creating some sentences involving different ways to express the notion of “becoming” in Spanish. (There’s no one way to do it.)

At noon, I left the apartment and began walking to my Spanish class. Along the way, I stopped for a couple of errands. I reveled in the uncharacteristically warm and sunny February day. I also listened to a Spanish-language podcast.

From 13:00 until 14:30, I had a Spanish lesson with my tutor. She answered my questions (I always have questions), we read El Principito, we discussed how Americans and Peruvians view time differently, and so on. For homework, Aly gave me a poem she had read in high school and asked me to translate it.

After class, I walked two miles from one coffee house to another. (As I walked, I listened to Spanish-language pop music.) At 15:30, I joined Mark Silver to talk about life. We met briefly at last summer’s World Domination Summit, and have been meaning to get to know each other. We had a fine conversation about business, marriage, children, goals, and more.

Note: I meet with people like Mark all of the time. That is, I meet colleagues and readers for lunch or coffee, and we have conversations about random things. I love it. There’s rarely a specific goal in mind for these gatherings — and I definitely consider them part of my work — but I enjoy them anyhow.

At 17:00, I started walking home. I passed one of my favorite restaurants just as it was about to open. Because there was no line for once, I stopped for dinner. As I ate fried chicken and mashed potatoes, I studied Spanish. I translated the poem that my tutor had given me earlier in the day.

I reached home at about 19:00, and promptly returned to work. I needed to get a post finished for Get Rich Slowly. Fortunately, I already knew the topic. By 21:00, I was finished and ready to climb in bed. I spent an hour surfing the web and reading bits and pieces from books and magazines (in both English and Spanish), then turned out the lights.

Note: I actually had insomnia Thursday night. I didn’t fall asleep right away. In fact, I didn’t fall asleep until around 2:00. Blarg! Instead, I tossed and turned. It was miserable.

Friday
On Friday morning, I got up at 05:30. I drove to the 06:30 Crossfit class, where I ran a 5k through Lake Oswego. Those three miles were miserable. I was tired. My legs were sore from workouts earlier in the week. And so on. I finished the run in 24:21, which is my second-fastest time ever, but I felt sluggish and heavy the whole way.

After Crossfit, I drove back to the apartment through heavy traffic — another reason I haven’t made the 06:30 class lately. I showered, ate breakfast, and dashed out the door to drive to Canby. There, I spent two hours in Naomi’s classroom, helping her kids with their reading and writing. (For the past few weeks, I’ve been volunteering in Naomi’s classroom for two hours every Monday and Friday morning. She teaches a Spanish/English second-grade class where most of the kids are native Spanish speakers. Their Spanish is much, much better than mine, but I get a kick out of reading and writing with them. And I think they like it too.)

At noon, I dashed back up to Portland for a lunch meeting with the World Domination Summit board of directors. While a larger team is planning this year’s conference, the four of us are beginning to think about the future. How large do we want the conference to grow in 2013? 2014? 2015? Who is our target audience? How can we make the event even better as time goes on?

After lunch, I returned to the apartment, where I spent ninety minutes answering e-mail and doing behind-the-scenes blog work. I also tried to plan the next week. Kris and I leave for Argentina soon, and I need to be efficient with my time.

At 16:00, I drove to the house to see Kris. She watched Biggest Loser while I fell asleep in my chair. (Blarg. Not an efficient use of my time!) At 17:30, we ate dinner at Five Guys Burger and Fries. I’m not a fan, but Kris wanted to try it.

From 19:00 to nearly 22:00, we were in Canby playing board games with the MNF group. Well, we were mostly chatting. The board games were simply an excuse to get together. The kids ran around and played while the adults talked about life.

Note: Because it’s been a long time since I wrote regularly here, I should define “the MNF group”. When I was in high school, I attended Zion Mennonite Church and was active in the youth group, the Mennonite Youth Fellowship (or MYF). Many of us became close friends. In fact, as adults, we’ve actively maintained these friendships. The MYF group eventually got together to watch Monday Night Football (MNF) every week. When kids came along, that faded and instead we began to have one gathering a month with some pre-planned theme. So, after thirty years, this group of friends still gathers for fellowship. How cool is that?

At the end of the night, I drove Kris home and then returned to my apartment, where I did a bit of cleaning before turning in.

Commentary
Were these two days typical of my current schedule? Yes and no. Friday involved a lot of driving and very little work, which is unusual. But taken together, this pair of days illustrate the various aspects of my life.

I spent 7-1/2 hours working on Thursday but zero hours working on Friday. (Well, the WDS board meeting was work, but not writing work.)

I spent 4-1/2 hours actively studying Spanish on Thursday and another two hours actively studying on Friday. Plus, there were several hours of passive learning (meaning: listening to music as I walked or listening to an audiobook as I drove).

Between the two days, I spent many hours with friends. The folks on the WDS board are my friends. Kris is my friend. I count my Spanish tutor as a friend now. And so on. It’s good when work and play can mix.

Actually, that last point is important to me. While I’m very much trying to shed the workaholic mode I’ve adopted over the past five years, I still prize efficiency. If I can make my time do double duty, that’s great. So, for instance, walking around Portland while listening to a Spanish podcast lets me accomplish two things at once. I like it.

But, as you can see, I don’t really have a “typical day”. That’s both good and bad. I generally don’t like routine. It bores me. I want to have flexibility built into my schedule so that I can take advantage of opportunities.

That said, some routine provides structure, and structure can help keep me focused. Since moving to the apartment a month ago, I haven’t had a chance to develop structure or routine, and my work has suffered because of it. Now I find that I’m behind on many, many things. This weekend, for instance, will mostly be spent here, sitting in front of the computer, writing about money. I’ll get out for Crossfit, for yoga, and for a two visits with friends, but the rest of my time will be in work mode. That’s the price I pay for being unfocused lately.

Maybe when we return from Argentina and Chile, I can begin to establish some sort of minimal routine. The only thing stopping me is…me!

Bookstore of Babel

I had a surreal experience today. After my Spanish lesson, I stopped at Wallace Books in Sellwood. (Yes, yes — I know I’ve complained about them in the past, but the fact is they’re the only real ~~used~~ bookstore around, so I’ll take what I can get.) I wanted to pick up A Game of Thrones and some sort of Spanish-language reading.

Turns out Wallace has a handful of Spanish-language books, but they’re mixed together with all of the other languages. As usual, there’s no rhyme or reason to the way the books are filed. No worries. There were only two or three shelves of foreign-language books, so I just browsed them all.

But as I did, something strange happened. In my mind, all of the languages I know morphed into one. And one language — Portuguese — that I don’t know!

So, I’d come across a French book with a promising title, pull it down, and leaf through it only to realize that while the title made sense, I couldn’t read anything else really. Or I’d grab a Portuguese or an Italian book, glance through it, and only realize I wasn’t looking at Spanish after about thirty seconds. (No joke!)

This went on for about twenty minutes, and it was strange. It was as if all of the bits and pieces of the languages that I’ve learned had united to form some sort of super-language in my head, allowing me to parse any of the Romanic languages. (I didn’t really ever get the German stuff confused with the Italian/Spanish/Portuguese/French — it’s too different.)

Fun, but very confusing. When it came time to leave, I had to put back three books from my to-buy stack because they weren’t actually Spanish, but some other language. In the end, the only Spanish book I came home with was Como agua para chocolate, which is a bit above my reading level. (Though it’s nowhere near as tough as Cien años de soledad. “I can only understand the first sentence of that,” I told Aly today, “and that’s because I’ve already read the book in English.”)

Bonus trivia: Wallace has a big display of the new book from Colin Meloy of the Decemberists. I was admiring it, so the clerk and I talked a bit about the band and its members. “You know he used to work here, right?” she told me. “No way!” I said. “Yes,” she said. “And Jenny too.” Well, there you go. Maybe I’ll have to give Wallace more cred in the future.

Our Bunny (or, An Unexpected Guest)

It looks as if — for now, anyway — we’re not just a five cat family; we’re also a one rabbit family.

On Tuesday, for no apparent reason whatsoever, a rabbit appeared in the yard. We were standing in the kitchen when Kris said, “Look. Meatball is chasing a rabbit.” Sure enough. The big dumb oaf was chasing a white and brown bunny across the grass and into the boxwood hedge.

We went outside and spent several minutes trying to catch the rabbit, but to no avail. It’s got some smooth moves.

Over the past few days, the cats have gone from the aggressors, however, to the pursued. The rabbit has warmed up to them — and to us. It won’t let us pet it, but it does like to hop close to us. And to the cats. In fact, when it sees a cat, it bounds after it, essentially chasing the poor feline. The cats don’t really care for this.

Well, except Silver, one of our new additions. Silver thinks the rabbit is kind of fun:

We’re not sure what to do with the rabbit. We’ve asked the neighbors, and nobody is missing a bunny. We asked on the neighborhood email list, and nobody knows anything about it. I guess our next step is to put up signs around our community.

I want to keep the rabbit of course (though outside — I don’t want an indoor rabbit). Kris, naturally, is opposed.

I think she’ll change her mind if we name it, but I’m at a loss as to what to call our little friend. Hazel? Bigwig? Briscoe? Conejo? Stew?

Five Cat Family

It cracks me up that I haven’t haven’t written much lately. As usual, that means there’s actually too much going on in my life, not too little.

For example: As many of you know, Mom is currently in the memory-care unit of an assisted living facility. I won’t go into details (yet), but she had another mental-illness crisis in June/July. The doctors ordered 24-hour supervision, and even if they hadn’t, we would have sought it.

What, then, to do with her two cats? There’s only one real answer: They’ve come to live with us.

Yes, that’s right. After the loss of Toto in February, we were down to three cats. Despite my insistent pleading, Kris refused to budge from that number. Now, however, we’re up to five cats. And man oh man, has that played havoc with the cat politics around this place.

To summarize, we have:

Simon, he of prize-winning photos. He loves to climb ladders and to sleep late.
Nemo, who is scared of everything except…
Max (or Meatball), who is a lovable lug (but frightened of Nemo).
Socks, who is a miniature version of Max. She is actually his blood sister.
Silver, who is Simon’s blood brother.

At first, I thought Silver was worthless. He hid under the bed. He hissed. He didn’t interact with anyone. Now, though, after two weeks at our house, he’s established himself as Boss. (In the world of Kris and J.D., “Boss” is bestowed to the top cat of a house or neighborhood. Simon used to be Boss of the house, though he quarreled with Oreo next door about Boss of the neighborhood.)

It’s been entertaining over the past week to watch as the cat politics are sorted out. Simon was pissed off about being dethroned as Boss, and he and Silver came to blows a couple of times. Now, though, he’s resigned to it. As long as Mom still scritches him.

Meanwhile, Nemo (who thought he was Boss) hasn’t come inside except briefly. He’s completely cowed by Silver. And Maxwell doesn’t know what to think.

The new cats are chowing through the cat food. Because they were 100% indoor cats, they haven’t learned to use the outdoors for bathroom duties. (Although Silver figured out how to do Outside in minutes. He loves it.) And now our house is even furrier than it was before. The stairs are covered with cat hair.

Five cats seems like a lot. Still, I’m hoping Kris will let me get a replacement for Toto.

A Dream Deferred

It’s been a long time since I posted an update at Foldedspace, but as usual that’s not because I’ve been a slacker; it’s because I’ve been extremely busy.

As most of you know, I came away from the World Domination Summit in early June burning to make fundamental changes in my life. I wanted to move to a smaller house. I wanted to travel more. I wanted to write about things other than money. And, in an ideal world, I wanted to make these changes sooner rather than later.

I’m still burning to make these changes, but they’re happening more slowly than I’d hoped and anticipated. Real Life has put on the brakes. Over the past two months, i’ve been:

Working, as usual. I’ve been writing at my personal finance blog, of course, but I’ve also been doing my monthly column for Entrepreneur magazine and my new twice-weekly contributions for Moneyland, Time magazine’s new money blog. Plus, I’ve given interviews, met with colleagues and readers, answered email, and more. Basically, despite my best efforts to relax, I’m working just as much as always. (Don’t forget that I’m also trying to write two new blogs: a travel blog and a blog about awesome people.

Traveling — though not as far as I’d hoped. I flew to Denver and Seattle for business, drove to Canada for a vacation with Kris’ family, and then flew to Indianapolis to attend a gaming convention with friends.

Helping to take care of Mom. In June, Mom had another acute mental health crisis. For the past six weeks, the family has been working together to find the best solution for her (and for us). I’ve been squeezing my responsibilities around conferences and work, but it’s tough to rationalize spending five or six weeks in far away places, leaving everyone else to take care of the situation.

Trying to get my house in order — literally. Before I begin extensive travel, I want to make sure things around Rosings Park are running smoothly. To that end, we brought in a landscaper to take care of all the yardwork I’ve been neglecting while writing instead. We’re hiring a roofer to repair the leaking roof. And, perhaps most importantly, I’m going to purge the rest of the Stuff that’s been hanging around in storage.

Over the past two months, I’ve been trying hard to do all of these things so that I can take off and travel for several weeks at a time. I had hoped I’d be ready to fly to England to hike Hadrian’s wall this month. In fact, before we understood the extent of Mom’s health problems (and before the leaky roof on our house), I had purchased a ticket to fly from Indianapolis to London today. But I’m not on a flight to London; I’m on a flight to Phoenix, from which I’ll catch a connection to Portland. I’m coming home to spend eight more weeks tying up loose ends before heading out on my own.

There are some other consequences to my busy-ness. After reaching my goal weight at the end of June, I’ve gained weight over the past month, and not in a good way. I’ve been stress eating. During my travels, I’ve been eating poor-quality food. I’ve had very little exercise. As a result, I’ve gained five pounds. It’s only five pounds, but I feel like a whale. I’m not worried, though: In the eight weeks I have at home, I’m going to focus on fitness.

Another consequence of my hectic lifestyle is that I haven’t been able to write as much as I want for pleasure. That means few updates here, and few updates at my new blogs — the blogs I really want to be writing at.

It would be easy to get discouraged by the lack of progress toward my goals, but actually I’m in good spirits. I’m having fun. And although I haven’t managed to make it to England or Ecuador yet, I know I’ll travel soon. I have the money, the time, and the inclination. Besides, it’s possible (probable, even) that by delaying my adventures for another two months, I’ll actually be better able to enjoy them. If I know Mom’s doing well, that the house is in good shape, and that my writing jobs are complete, I’ll have less weighing on my mind.

To that end, I plan to spend the next eight weeks working diligently to prepare for my departure. I’m going to focus on fitness, write lots, finish fixing up the house, and spend my spare time with Spanish. Then, in October, I can jet off to Ecuador or Argentina or Peru without a care in the world. I look forward to it!

Aprendo Español

Though things have been quiet around Foldedspace, they haven’t been quiet in Real Life. As always, I spend most of my time writing about money. I’m also exercising 2-1/2 hours a day, five days a week. I’m absorbing enormous (digital) piles of information about money and writing and travel. I’m meeting friends and colleagues for lunch and dinner. I’m doing my best to not let the yard turn completely feral. Kris and I are hanging out with friends. And, yes, I’m learning Spanish.

For years now, I’ve said that I want to learn Spanish “some day”. But that day never seemed to come. I’ve always found reasons to put it off.

Part of the problem is that learning a new language is slow going. Plus, it’s scary. I feel embarrassed stumbling my way through verb conjugations and incorrect nouns. I hate when the words don’t spring immediately to mind. Besides, there’s a huge time commitment if you ever really want to become proficient.

Background: I studied German for two years in high school. During my first semester in college, I studied Spanish, but then (for reasons I forget) I went back for three more semesters of German. Since then, I’ve tried to teach myself Latin (hey, I should try that again!), and have dabbled in French and Italian. In other words: I’m fluent in English and know a smattering of words in other languages.

Earlier this month, I met Benny Lewis, the Irish polyglot who writes about language learning at Fluent in 3 Months. I told Benny I wanted to learn Spanish and asked if he had any suggestions.

“The best thing you can do — if you can afford it — is to hire a private tutor,” he told me. “Meet with the tutor as often as you can.” (Later, Benny spent an hour with me on Skype. We talked about his current trip to Turkey, and he gave me travel tips, especially for Latin America. Benny rocks!)

Well, I can afford to hire a private language tutor, and so that’s what I’ve done. For the past two weeks, I’ve been meeting with a Peruvian woman named Aly. We spend 4-1/2 hours a week together, and she assigns stacks of Spanish homework. It’s almost overwhelming at times — but I love it.

I feel like I’m catching on fairly quickly (and Aly seems to think so too), but I’m also frustrated because I wish I lived in a world populated by s-l-o-w-talking Spanish speakers. I could learn Spanish more easily if everyone around me would just speak it!

This is actually one of Benny’s top tips. In addition to hiring a tutor, he recommends immersing yourself in the language you want to learn. He wants to learn Turkish right now, so he’s in Turkey. If I want to learn Spanish, he thinks I need to go somewhere that Spanish is the primary language. I need to be forced to learn it.

Meanwhile, Stephanie (the Travel Chica), Courtney Baker, and Shannon O’Donnell have all suggested I try to find a language school in Antigua, Guatemala or Quito, Ecuador. From my initial research, it looks like I could sign up for a week at a time (for about $25/day) and get one-on-one personalized training. Benny says a language school isn’t necessary, that I’ll simply absorb the language through daily experience. He says I should head to Medillin, Colombia. “Colombia has the easiest Spanish in the world to understand,” Benny told me.

Benny may be right, but I know how my mind works. One-on-one lessons are going to be a better bet. Besides, if I decide I don’t like the language school, I can always shift my focus to learning from daily interactions.

In any event, I’m excited to have a focus for my first solo trip. Next week, I hope to pick my August destination. (Ecuador holds some charm because it’s a jumping-off point for the Galapagos Islands.) In the meantime, I’ll continue working with Aly three days a week.

I feel like the days ahead hum and glow with promise.

Ice King

For years, I’ve taunted Kris because she gets cold so easily. Driving in the car, she needs the heat up. Sitting around the house, she needs the heat up. When we go out to dinner or a movie, she needs to bundle tight because she knows she’s going to get cold. Even in the summer, she’s often cold.

When we used to spend most of our time with Mac and Pam, Mac and I would call our wives “Ice Queens”. One (or both) of them was always complaining about how cold they were, even when temperatures were balmy. Mac and I would be quite comfortable at the bridge table, when one of the Ice Queens would go crank the heat, making us sweat. Once while spending a weekend playing games with Mac and Pam in a yurt at Champoeg Park, Kris made me drive back to the box factory to pick up a space heater so that she wouldn’t be cold. I thought that was ridiculous.

But a terrible, terrible thing has happened, my friends.

This winter — and remember, winter hasn’t even begun yet — I’ve been cold. Very cold. I can never really get as warm as I want to be. When I get out of bed in the morning, I’m cold. When I go to the gym, I’m cold. When I take a hot bath after the gym, I’m warm enough, but as soon as I get out, I’m too cold. At the office, I’m cold. And in the afternoon and evening, back here at home, I’m cold again. More often than I care to admit, I take a second hot bath in the afternoon. (And sometimes — yes, it’s true — even a third.)

“You know why you’re cold all the time, don’t you?” Kris said the other day. “It’s because you’ve lost weight. Without all that fat to insulate you, you’re just as cold as everyone else.” I think she finds this amusing. I just find it cold.

I had dinner with Mac last night. In the restaurant, we were both too cold. “I’ve been cold all winter,” he told me as we sipped our hot tea.

“Me too!” I said. “You know what we’ve become, right?”

He knew. “Ice Kings,” he said. It’s true.

Mac and I have become that which we once mocked — and we have no control over it. The horror! I’d write more about this cruel irony of fate, but I can’t. I’m cold. I need to go take a hot bath.

The Pleasures of Self-Sufficiency: A Cat’s Perspective

If I’m going to resume writing here regularly, I’ll obviously be writing more and more about my cats. After all, they rule the house, right? Kris and I are merely here to serve them. Besides, they do plenty of silly things worthy of blog posts.

For example, all four cats — Toto, Simon, Nemo, and Max — are of the firm belief that while human-provided food is great, the best food is the food you provide yourself.

In some cases, this means food they’ve hunted. Simon, as long-time readers will recall, sometimes catches squirrels. (We just put a poor, dead, fat rodent in the trash last week — Kris found it in the rose garden.) Nemo is a fearsome bird hunter, and he especially likes catching baby birds. And Max? Well, Max is an expert and seeking out and destroying unopened bags of cat food.

Because Simon is on an expensive prescription diet for his urinary-tract infection, all of the cats are on the same diet. They all eat the same expensive food. I have to buy this expensive food at the vet, which never has it in stock — they have to special-order it for me. So, to save hassle, I order three bags at a time and then store them in the basement.

Max, the fearsome hunter, likes to venture into the basement whenever possible. His mission? To stalk the bags of unopened cat food, and to tear them apart. He enjoys the thrill of the hunt, and he especially enjoys the seemingly endless supply of food once he’s killed a bag. (Nemo enjoys this, too. In fact, he invented this game. Lately, though, he lets Max do the killing.)

We do our best to keep Max away from the expensive cat-food bags, but it’s not always possible. And sometimes, we just forget.

This morning, I woke early and came downstairs in the dark. I opened the door for the Cat Swap. The Cat Swap occurs when Toto comes in from her nightly exile (since she started peeing outside the litterbox, she’s banished to a heating pad on the porch every night), and one or more of her brothers bolts to the freedom of Outside.

After the Cat Swap, Toto usually begins crying for food. Her bowl under the kitchen table is empty because Max has eaten it all during the night. (Max has no off switch. He will eat and eat and eat until there’s no food left.) But this morning was strangely different.

While I spent a few minutes in the bathroom, Toto was silent. There was no yowling, no insistent begging. Instead, I could actually hear her crunching on food. “That’s strange,” I thought. “Why didn’t Max eat it all overnight?” When I came out into the kitchen, I saw.

Toto is perturbed at being disturbed from her breakfast buffet.

Max had indeed made his best effort to eat all of the food overnight. But it wasn’t the food in the bowl he’d been consuming. Instead, he’d torn open the cat-food bag I brought home yesterday (and foolishly left in the kitchen). All night long, he’d been feasting from the bag, enjoying the fruits of self-sufficiency. And now, Toto and Simon were contentedly following in his pawsteps: They were crunching away from the never-ending fount of food pouring from the bag.

“Dad,” they seemed to say. “This is a fantastic idea. Can this be a regular thing?” Nothing seems better to a cat than an entire bag of cat food, just sitting there, ready to be eaten.

sigh

Cats.

The Quest for the Perfect Men’s Swimsuit

As you’re all well aware, I can be obsessive sometimes, and about the dumbest little things.

Lately, for example, I’ve been searching for wool clothes. I’ve decided that I don’t like cotton — it shrinks! it wrinkles! it fades! — and I’d rather wear clothes with more versatility and durability. That means I’ve been buying synthetics, but it also means I’ve become obsessed with wool. I love wool. Wool is cozy and warm, and best of all, you can wear it for days at a time without it stinking. (I wore a single wool t-shirt for the last week in France, and it still smelled fine when we got home.)

Another one of my recent quests is for a stylish and comfortable men’s swimsuit. As I’ve lost weight, I’ve begun to swim once a week. Swimming when I’m fat is a chore, and it’s embarrassing. But when I’m moderately fit, it’s a great workout, and I’m less self-conscious about my appearance. But since my decade-old pair of swim trunks died last April, I haven’t been able to find swimwear that I like.

Women have all sorts of flattering options for swimwear. There are one-piece and two-piece options that can be attractive, modest — or both. Not so for men.

Men basically have two options: tight Speedo-type suits for serious swimmers and gigantic, baggy “board shorts” for the average guy. The former are, well, too revealing for my taste, and the latter are just plain ugly. Seriously: Board shorts are one of the ugliest garments ever invented. (And remember, this is coming from a guy who doesn’t usually care how clothes look!)

Recently, I re-watched Casino Royale for the zillionth time. It’s my favorite James Bond film. Midway through, Bond (played by Daniel Craig) does some beach reconnaissance while swimming in the Caribbean Sea. He emerges from the water wearing this:

Daniel Craig in his fancy-pants swimsuit

Leaving aside the fact that I’ll never look like Daniel Craig (and that’s not my goal), I liked the cut of this swimsuit. I thought my quest for the perfect men’s swimsuit had come to an end. I paused the movie to show Kris. “That’s the sort of swimsuit I want,” I said.

Kris laughed. “No you don’t,” she said. “That’s way too revealing. That’s basically a Speedo.”

“It is?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “If you wear that, you’ll shock all of your friends.”

Well, I don’t want to shock all of my friends, so I’m not going to wear that swimsuit. (Even though I was able to track it down — for $112.) But I’d love to find something similar to the James Bond swimsuit that isn’t quite as revealing. I guess I’m looking for a swimsuit that’s cut relatively short, but which doesn’t cling to me like a second skin. Surely there must be something out there that fits the bill. But so far, I haven’t found anything.

I did look through several dozen swimsuits when I went thrift-store shopping last Saturday. I found one that had many of the elements I’m looking for. Since it was three bucks, I bought it. But it’s still not quite right. I guess maybe I’ll have to wait another decade for fashion to change so that the ugly, ugly board shorts go out of style.

Perfectly Content

Photos, videos, and narrative of our trip to Europe are coming soon. We had a great time.

Today, though, I want to say that I can’t imagine anything better than a rainy afternoon spent upstairs with my cats, sorting comic books while sipping a scotch and soda, listening to classic country music, waiting for my sweetie to come home.

This is what life is all about. I’m not joking.

(The only way this could be better is if we were expecting to meet friends for dinner tonight…)