When I started this newsletter almost one year ago, I had every intention of writing one or two posts every week, on a whole host of topics not limited to baseball and parenting. I planned to use this as an outlet for my creative side while also dropping in some analytical pieces. I even thought I’d spend some time exercising my writing muscles in areas I don’t always explore, such as entertainment or poetry. Unfortunately, time, as it is wont to do, got away from me.
But for the next six weeks, you’ll be hearing/reading from me in this space far more frequently.
I’ve been a professional adult for nearly 15 years now, and until today, the longest breaks from work I’ve taken have been a handful of two-week absences to recover from surgeries and for paternity leaves. Almost every other instance of “vacation” has been for no more than three days. Until today, I’ve never taken extended times off of work, not because I wasn’t allowed to - I’ve had access to plenty of vacation time and for the last seven-plus years I’ve worked at the best organization I can possibly imagine - but because I wasn’t allowing myself to do so.
But that’s changing today, because, beginning today, I’m taking a six-week sabbatical.
For the next six weeks, I get to enjoy some actual, mostly uninterrupted, honest-to-God, Me Time. Obviously, I’ll still have parental and spousal responsibilities and activities, but during business hours I’m going to essentially be doing my best William Wallace impression.
FREEEEEDOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!!!
Did I schedule the start of my sabbatical on the first day of the NCAA men’s basketball tournament? Of course. Were my plans to attend Kansas’ first and second round games in Omaha ruined by their late season swoon? You betcha. Am I still excited to have no professional obligations during the two most exciting sports days of the year?
But I won’t be plopped on the couch in pajamas the entire time. Beyond this week, I do have a few plans in mind. A bit of travel. Try to exercise regularly occasionally more. Do some reading, a few home projects, and, relevant to this newsletter, write.
I greatly enjoy writing, and I do so in my day job, but I haven’t made time for my non-work writing, and I’m pretty jazzed to reverse that trend.
The Kansas City Royals’ season begins next week, and since I haven’t written about their busy winter (Bobby Bob Bob contract! Lugo and Wacha! Adam Frazier, for some reason!), I certainly plan to write about them. My kids keep me busy, so I’m sure there will be more parenting essays to come. I’ve pondered some posts on the books, shows, and movies I’ve read and watched in the last several months. And maybe I’ll even dip my toes into some short stories.
The point is that I now have the time to share more of the thoughts that pop in my head instead of having them rattle around there interminably. Thoughts like, did anyone attempt to ride that steer that was loose in South Omaha before they put him down? How many people in the immediate vicinity could have ridden the steer? Why was I not contacted to attempt to ride the steer?
I’m also hoping that I can build up some habits that will stick past the end of my sabbatical so you can come to expect more regular newsletters from me as the year progresses. The concept of hope springing eternal isn’t exclusive to the world of baseball, after all.
I’ve written before about time not standing still, but it’s typically been in relation to my kids growing up too dang fast. I haven’t thought as much about my own time and how quickly it gets eaten up by family and work (both things I love dearly, to be clear). For the next six weeks, time will still pass, but I’m greatly looking forward to having a few more moments for myself. And maybe some of those moments will result in some fun things for you to read.
Speaking of fun things to read, I’ll end with one of my personal favorite Dad Jokes.
ME: So what do you do for a living?
TAXIDERMIST: Stuff.
Looking forward to reading more from you, Hunter.