And I ra-a-an…

My spider sense told me that my 20-year high school reunion was lurking in the shadows. I found a sealed box with what I assume is my collection of high school baubles and ribbons signifiying my my achievement in the field of excellence. When my kids are old enough to appreciate how much of an overachiever I wasam, I will uncork it and let them play the inevitable games with these things. Until then, I have a bigger problem: the invite came today, via email.


We are having a reunion in October. Please check out our website so you can decide if you would like to come. I have you down as “undecided”. [Someone] was helping us get your information.

Thank You!

Perhaps I’m a little worn from this weekend’s patriotic fervor, but I noticed there was not even an attempt at a hospitable, saccharine “we hope you can attend.” Just RTFWS. The web site is coy about exactly when and where the gala would occur. It is much easier to find out how much the event costs and which ABA routing number to use when sending the payment.

Where does all the time go?

Last week, Ben wrote about how he felt there was never enough personal time to go around. I did an exercise last month where I tried to quantify where I was spending my time in the past, currently, and what the ideal future might look like. It’s very sobering, and I thought I’d share the mechanics of the exercise.

It might be convenient to first download the Excel worksheet I put together to use as a sample template. The first page is also available in an Acrobat document, but you lose the gratuitious Excel pie charts.

Begin with the assumption you have approximately 100 waking hours per week to accomplish everything you need to: eat, poop, work, read, shave your legs, go bowling, etc. (Yes, there are 168 hours in the week, and you may sleep more or fewer hours. You can certainly use a different number, but 100 works out well when you start thinking about percentages.)

For each subcategory, fill in the number of hours that you spend in that activity each week. In the worksheets, there are eight major categories of daily activities: personal, couple, family, friendship, work, leisure, social, and environmental. These are adapted from Frederic Hudson’s book, The Adult Years: Mastering te Art of Self-Renewal. Underneath each are a set of subcategories. These are only suggestions. If you don’t like or understand them, change them to something more relevant to you. There is no “score” on this self-test.

There will be activities you do concurrently. Make your own judgement call. You can lump it all into one category or split it some way.