LATHER. RINSE. REPEAT.

As a kid I used to read anything and everything at our house that had writing in, on, or around it.

Even shampoo bottles.
I always found it unusual that every shampoo bottle I ever saw at home included the directions;
Lather. Rinse. Repeat. 

Who needs directions for shampooing their hair?  Isn’t that something most people do everyday?

And, as long as I’m questioning the directions, Repeat?
Really?  I’ve always found one lather and rinse to be adequate.

I mention this mundane task that is part of most adult’s daily routine for a good reason.  We’ll come back to it later.

At work a small group of us have formed a book club.  We meet periodically to discuss the books we select as well as work issues and current affairs.  At one of our gatherings the point was raised that the characters in our books typically lead remarkable lives, or have been influenced by profound events.

In Wally Lamb’s, The Hour I First Believed, the main character is an English teacher at Columbine high school in Littleton, Colorado.  He is greatly affected by the school shooting.

Hanna Schmitz is an illiterate former Nazi guard at the Auschwitz concentration camp in Bernhard Schlink’s, The Reader.

Cheryl Strayed wrote about her 1,100 mile solo hike in her book, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail.

Those are just a few of the books we’ve read with remarkable characters and notable circumstances.  None of our books have had characters or circumstances as hum-drum or ordinary as me and the life I lead.   Oscar Wilde stated, “Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.”  My days are so consistently identical, one just like the last, that there appears no imagination nor anything out of the ordinary whatsoever.

I didn’t perform the remarkable feat of playing sports in college, but my children and friends of mine did, as I stood on the sidelines and watched.

I didn’t give birth to children that developed into remarkable adults, but I was smart enough to marry a woman who could and did.
 

I haven’t done any groundbreaking research, discovered a cure for any disease, or solved any pressing social issues, but I do the invoicing and reporting for grants awarded to professors at the UofM that are doing those things.

Socrates said that, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”  So I was thinking that maybe I should indulge in some introspection regarding this.  You know, examine my life a little bit.

NAH!

I found my answer in a most unusual place from a most unusual source; 
In the nursery of my nine month old granddaughter Ayla.

My Lovely Bride and I were with Ayla 24 hours a day for 6 days recently at the house she shares with her moms in Boston.  We loved spending time with them visiting and relaxing as they went about their lives.

Little did I know that our visit would be so educational for me.

Ayla delights in playing with her books and simple toys (wooden blocks, rattles, stacking toys, and balls designed for children to grasp).  None of her toys whir, buzz, or light up, they are all pretty ordinary.  Ayla can play for hours on end with these simple toys.  Each time a new play session begins she is delighted all over again to be able to play with those same familiar toys.

 
Granted, her moms give her new toys and take her to new and exciting places.  Ayla loves those too.  But, if those new stimuli were unavailable it appears that she would be happy just the same.  She finds satisfaction in the unremarkable, she entertains herself, she explores with enthusiasm the world that’s been created for her.

Is it just childhood enthusiasm on her behalf? Or, is it maybe a really good way to lead one’s life?

I don’t have the biggest house in the neighborhood, but it’s nice and comfortable.
I’m OK with that.

My job is fairly routine month in and month out, but I’ve learned to appreciate the stability it offers.
I’m OK with that.

I can’t skate as far or as fast as I used to, but I’ve come to accept that just being out and exercising is a good thing.
I’m OK with that.

What gives my life its richness is time spent with friends and family. 
The changes of the season. 
A good skate or bike ride. 
A good book.
A good meal. 
Working with stained glass and writing every now and again.

Like Ayla I am able to find satisfaction in the unremarkable, mundane, everyday routines like lather, rinse, repeat.

And I’m OK with that too.

I’m supposed to be answering questions for my granddaughter.
Instead she is answering the big questions for me.
Who knew?