The big knock on Richie Cunningham, according to Mork, was that his life was "hum drum." That's probably why they needed Fonzie around for all those years, for jumping sharks and such. Aaaaay. I'm here today to suggest that maybe "hum drum," as Richie learns from this visitor from another planet. There is safety in routine. Furthermore, it allows the brain to focus on things less mundane than what is for dinner and which day the chores will be done.
At our house, we have a number of programs that run just beneath the surface of our hustle and bustle that keep the fabric of our lives from being torn asunder. And if you've ever had anything torn asunder, you know how much rehab work is involved in getting it back to sunder. This is why we have our Monday meetings. There are just three of us, four counting the dog, but we have found that getting together once a week with a clipboard to write down our various commitments and appointments to be an extremely valuable tool. Even if we are simply reaffirming our date on Thursday to clean the house together, or to meet at least once during the weekend to share stories of how our lives have progressed since the last time we saw one another.
It used to be that we had frozen pizza night. My wife and I were sharing a weekly Tombstone with pepperoni before our son was born. Once he was ready for some solid food, we started sharing the sausage off the top of our slices with our little boy, which had the amusing effect of generating one of his first words: "meat." It wasn't long before the eight slices were now being shared with our growing son. Then, his portion began crowding out his mother's, and finally, it became apparent that the only way to share a frozen pizza with our son was to allow him half while my wife surrendered her portion to him and me. Then Tombstone raised their prices. My wife began teaching Zumba one evening a week, and so my son and I reconciled our tastes to whatever frozen pizza was on sale.
It was long about this time that Monday became not just a Meeting day, but my wife instituted "Meatless Monday." It's our new routine. Her carnivores sometimes whimper and moan, but it is one of the ways we mark the passage of time. And when every once in a while you toss a little feta cheese and some Swiss chard at us, we don't feel quite so hum drum.