As I have written before I’m not big on making New Year’s resolutions. I guess that’s because, like most folks, I won’t keep them. Secondly I guess we are all subject to superseding events not under our control. Like a worldwide pandemic.
But I do have some intentions. Like trying to figure why Blogger up and changes fonts on me and doesn’t allow me to correct it. So now you’re stuck with reading the rest of this in Times New Roman or whatever this font has shifted to until such time as I figure it out.
I guess the reason that I am going to stick my neck out with these lowly aspirations is that things finally seem “normal” around here for the first time in 3 years (I guess). And let’s face it. The last 3 years have sucked. No 2 ways around it. What’s normal?
Let me start with this. For the first time in 3 years the Deacon and I will be the only people living in this house. Joe got a place of his own and hit the bricks the first of December after living here since graduation until he saved up his money and otherwise came to the conclusion that he didn’t want to live with his mom and her geezer husband anymore.
So that will be interesting. I remember when we first got married we used to go out all the time. Mainly because she was tired after working and I am only marginally competent at vegan cuisine. But will we go back to that? I dunno.
I pretty much quit playing guitar and doing photography during the plague. I quit playing because the “open mic” stuff I used to do shut down. And as far as I can tell has not come back. Why I quit taking pictures I don’t know. I also quit writing as much as I used to.
I don’t know exactly why. I think if I were being totally honest, which is a rare departure from standard practice so you better not get used to it Buster, I think I just kind of shut down. You now how some people, when faced with seemingly overwhelming and impossible odds, summon up the grit and courage to bravely face the storm and carry on come what may?
I guess I’m not one of those people. Or at least I am no longer in that number. I’ve become rather inert lately.
I need to be ert again.
Maybe not as ert as Sarah, who spent New Year’s Eve in Cuba. That’s a bit much for me. You can do crazy stuff like that when you’re 25. But it’s time for me to at least get back out there while I’m still relatively young and in possession of a quorum of marbles.
So these are my intentions. 1) go back to the gym (so far so good) 2) write more (and figure out just WTF is going on with this damn font) 3) play guitar and take pictures again. As the weather improves I’m going to play more golf. Especially with my friend Wayne and his buddies. Here’s how they play golf. They play a scramble. So far as I can tell only one guy keeps a score in his head. Which the rest of the group ignores. And everybody tees off from the women’s tee. Much shit is talked for the entire 9 hole round.
Who knew that golf could be fun?
The Deacon and my nephew Henry ,who is on the way to becoming a big noise in the arts, have encouraged me to sing again. If I’m going to that means I better get going while still have a public A# and have not developed an “old lady” vibrato yet.
So how much of this punch list will actually get done? We’ll see. Like most folks on the Internet I’m pretty tough behind the keyboard.
Sarah told me that she would have me some cigars from Cuba next time I see her. See? 2023 is starting off a whole lot better that 2002 did. Not so good for old lady vibrato prevention maybe. But it’s something to look forward to.
Happy New Year!
Right?
