December 30 is a gift. It wobbles on the borders of Christmas and the as yet great unexplored continent of the new year. Especially when it falls on a Sunday, December 30 is a day of no demands.
I’ve been silent on this blog for the last few weeks, giving way to the demands of the season, of work, of play, of family. All topped off by a bout of what was either a very bad cold or what my mother refers to as a “touch of the flu” that hit me two days before Christmas.
The last few days in Florida have veered from the low 40s to today, close to the mid-80s. It’s been schizophrenic. Like the holidays and the end of the year. A bit here; a bit there.
But this next year is about to get underway and I will have to pull my soon to be 58 year old body along with it to get ready for our great Balkans adventure. It’s not going to be high altitude and that makes me a little sad. But that’s not to say there’s no more high altitude out there for me. This adventure will involve family and friends and trekking – as opposed to the 21 hour extravaganza that was our summit of Stok Kangri and hike out the same day.
And I’ve got this blog to see to. I still haven’t written up Black Bear Preserve, much less Austin at Thanksgiving.
New Year’s goals. Figure out those things that will matter in the long run and keep doing them with passion. Do the rest with accuracy but detachment. I’ve never been good at that. Time to start. Remember your true self.
Happy New Year. Namaste.
FromSwamptoSummit 