Six Weeks of Crazy nears its crazy end
The following isn’t so much interesting as it is an excuse for why I’ve been away so much recently.
About five weeks ago, I started using the phrase “Six Weeks of Crazy” to describe the days between November 1 and December 14. At the time, I didn’t know how crazy it would be.
It began when I was in London and offered a freelance project that sounded interesting. I looked at the time commitment and realized that if I finished by the December 4 deadline, it would take just about every spare moment I had in what was already a fairly busy schedule.
See, I already knew I was going to Las Vegas to cover the World Series of Poker November Nine. Moreover, I also knew I would be traveling to Playa Conchal, Costa Rica to cover the Latin American Poker Tour event there. Meanwhile, I have been involved in a 100-day fitness bet with my brother, the end of which coincides with the end of the Six Weeks of Crazy. Still, because the freelance project seemed interesting and paid me a little money, I agreed.
What I didn’t know at the time was that, while I was out of town for the WSOP, there would be a death in my wife’s family. At 2am when the WSOP final table ended, I left immediately for home. The next morning, my wife got on the road to the funeral. I stayed home with my older son and worked when I could. About six hours later, I got the call that my grandfather had died. The funeral was scheduled for the following week. Within hours of my wife arriving home, we got on a plane for Missouri. The day after the funeral, I flew home long enough to do laundry and pack for Costa Rica. Twelve hours later, I was on the road again.
Costa Rica was, as always, very nice and a lot of work. I would’ve enjoyed it more but for the fact I knew I had a looming deadline and would have to spend just about every available hour working to make sure I finished. And that is exactly how I spent the last couple of weeks.
Just about half an hour ago, I finished everything I had to with a few hours to spare before the deadline. And I am tired. The Six Weeks of Crazy was as billed. I barely know what happened to the last five weeks. I know that the ten weeks I put in at the gym in advance of November have been stunted somewhat. That’s annoying because it means I will end up losing a bet with my brother.
Still, I have no reason to complain. Tomorrow, I turn 36 years old and, for all intents and purposes, am pretty damned happy. My wife was a huge help in finishing the project and, as I wrote the other day, I am the luckiest man I know: family of dreams, loyal friends, enviable job, and a personal vision for a great future.
What’s more, the end to the Six Weeks of Crazy is the good kind of insanity. Tomorrow, I only have two plans: get a long overdue haircut and go on a long overdue date with my wife. Saturday morning, I’m headed to Charlottesville, VA to see Phish, a sort of dual gift from my buddy G-Rob and my exceedingly generous wife. There I will get to see a lot of good friends from all over the country.
Once back home, I’ve got a few more days of work to catch up on, and then I embark on a trip to Vegas with about 100 of my closest friends. It’s a trip I’ve been looking forward to for about two years and I’m fairly giddy with anticipation.
And so that’s it. That’s my excuse for my poor track record over the month of November. I’m looking forward to a far more peaceful life in December.
Because once the new year hits…it’s all crazy again.