Matt Simerson

As part of my “get into a shape” project, I rode my Schwinn World Avenue One to work today. I spent a fair bit of time route planning and drove numerous routes with the Jetta during the last month. I found several good choices, all about the same distance, 10 miles. This morning I hopped on my bike and rode off into the 47° drizzling grey morning. I arrived at work in almost exactly the time I expected, 40 minutes. I based my math on an average speed of 15mph and was quite pleased at realizing my goal.

The sense of accomplishment was not to last. I had fallen prey to the greatest of cyclist delusions. When a cyclist happens to be catching a small but favorable wind, the typical response is something like, “wow, I’m feeling particularly vigorous today.” During all my exploratory drives in the Jetta and during the ride into downtown this morning, I had failed to notice the elevation changes. It turns out that riding into town is pretty much downhill the entire way. The ride home was painful. And slower. Much slower.

Freud’s psychiatry has never held much appeal to me. When I read Freud, I labor my way through because I simply don’t see the world the way he does. I suspect that a substantial portion of mentally healthy humans feel similarly and look elsewhere for psychiatry that is insightful and meshes with their life experience.

Viktor Frankl is one such psychiatrist. I recently read Man’s Search for Meaning. Like the hundreds of other reviewers on Amazon and Audible.com, I enjoyed the book and his perspective. Viktor shares a tremendous amount of insight into humanity that would be difficult to come by without his incredibly vast amount of life experience. This book should be required reading for anyone who wants to understand the essence of humanity.

Until quite recently, Lucas has been a fairly conservative eater. His tastes are quite diverse but he has lacked the necessary teeth to masticate anything more substantial than noodles. He has recently gained a fully functioning set of grinders and with them, the desire to chew up just about everything. So, did he really like the fresh Halibut as much as we did?  Or was he just enjoying the mechanics of eating it?  Does it really matter?

It’s been a long time since we’ve enjoyed fresh halibut. The darned fish was so fresh it flopped right into my shopping cart. I didn’t have the heart to toss it back. I recalled that even a day’s freshness is significant with halibut so I just had to cook it up tonight. I broiled it nearly nude, with only a few pats of butter and a light sprinkling of salt. The tender moist white flesh flakes apart after 10 minutes and it’s ready to eat. Hmm. Hmm.

Instead of more unpacking, Kayla suggested we go boating on Saturday. Grandpa Ricardo obliged and all of the Ruby children, Lucas and I tagged along. As we puttered out into the Sound, the topic of whales came up. Minutes later, I saw what could only be the exhaling of a whale. Nearby was a boat which had just motored nearby.

We continued watching for the whales next exhale. After spotting a second exhale, I calculated the trajectory of the whale, turned the boat into his path, and shut down the engines. A little while later, one, and then another whale surfaced 20 yards off the bow of our boat. The second was extremely cooperative and surfaced high and submerged showing us the classic whale tail view, much to everyone’s delight.