My calendar year ends with a few drops of water. I drip them onto the little sponge that I place in its holder and then between the strings into the hollow of my guitar. Sealed up tight in its case with a drink for the wood, my guitar should be comfortable while I’m away. It’s been an interesting year and I’ve tried to make the world a little better in my own way, on a larger scale through volunteering and charity, and on a smaller one by doing my best to bring some happiness to my family and friends. Didn’t always succeed, but that’s how it goes. I’m not much for looking back, although this time of year lends itself to that sort of thing, and I’m not much for resolutions. But I like fresh starts, clean breaks; a big unbroken snowy year that no one has set foot on yet; the first skate cutting a frosty loop across an icy pond. Ready to line up new challenges, and finally get myself to someplace where I feel I belong, someplace that feels like home. It’s getting closer and that feels good. Part of me wishes I could stay here and keep working, but once I’m out the door I’ll be glad to get away for a while and have some time to get myself moving creatively in the right direction. Tumblr’s been a fun experiment for the last several months and I’m glad I tried it out, although it’s kind of a hot mess. I’m looking forward to jumping to a different platform and trying a new approach. Happy new year to all, I hope you find your way to someplace truly fantastic this year and make the world a little better along the way.
The nicest thing I get during the holiday season is handwritten thank you notes from my friend’s young kids, on their own little hand-embossed cards. They’re pretty adorable, and politeness is a lost art these days. I try to be a thoughtful gift giver, although when I give books it’s hard to know whether the kids will truly connect with them. But getting a carefully-inked thanks is a warm fuzzy on par with being curled up by the fireplace.
Bedtime kitty on my chest looking for rubs, suddenly lit against the black by a crackling storm of tiny sparks like a fluffy Tesla coil = time to re-fill the humidifier.