And don’t let the door hit you

Zwee's Boots, by Kirsty Hall on Flickr, licensed under Creative Commons

I know it’s not just me. Pretty much everyone this year, it seems, had significant setbacks, losses, or at the very least, a number of things to be enraged about.

On our drive south today, even the last hours of cursed 2014 sunlight conspired against me, blinding me now here, now there as I followed the curves of the highway.

On the drive, I asked Young J what his resolution was, after explaining what that meant. He said, “Draw more,” and took up his sketchpad. J said, write and record more songs. Young A was sleeping at the time, and I think he could probably use more sleep, so we’ll call that his.

Me? One big resolution, of course. And a number of others that seem like corollaries of it. But really, if nothing else happens for me in 2015 beyond getting through it cancer-free, that will be enough for me. Dayenu.

Happy new calendar year. I hope you have fun booting the old year into the street. (I will literally be wearing boots.)

2 thoughts on “And don’t let the door hit you

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