It is Monday, 26 December, Boxing Day in the Commonwealth, and the day after Christmas to good ‘Muricans. Yesterday was all it is supposed to be; a quiet morning with dogs, a fire, and a good book (before the family awoke), presents, a walk with the dogs in the chill, washing/peeling/cutting potatoes for Catherine’s famous mashed version, family dinner with cousins et al….you get the picture. Today is rather hectic, as my trio of women prepare to abandon me for the Caribbean and some sailing with friends, a trip I had to pass on due to work annual work commitments that span the holidays and accelerate directly after.
Myself, three cats, and two dogs will hold things down here on the farm. There is some complexity in the management of these critters, as each is a bit of an attention seeker (like their daddy), while the cats must be separated as two of them seem deadly enemies. One tactic I employ during these periods of solitude is to move my base of operations from the garage office/mancave to the warmth of the house. Sometimes, I set up in the kitchen, where the dogs are constant companions, sometimes the back porch where only one of the three cats has free movement, and sometimes our bedroom, where the other two cats reign. The difficulty of course, is in time management and seeing to it that each of the animal pods gets its share of my attention. I really anguish about this—although when Catherine is here, I don’t give it a second thought.
Our dogs—two black labs (Baloo and Zuzu)—are in their golden years (although Zuzu at 10 is still pretty spry). I’ve taken to morning walks with them up and down our lane, which have of late been pretty brisk. The dogs don’t mind a bit. I am on constant lookout for their uncovering of deer excrement, which provides for a lovely bit of coat rolling and follow-on house befoulment. If any reader has a good explanation for this behavior, the comment section is open.
When left to my own devices, I have been known to commit infractions of house/relationship rules that sometimes come back to bite me. Specifically, when the “eye” is elsewhere, I like to “downsize”. I’ve taken loads of books and clothing to Goodwill whilst operating independently, only to have to justify a missing tie, or sweater, or book. Life in the Navy (and single life, in general) provided ample opportunity to simplify, as each move created detritus that could be easily donated. Fifteen years in one spot has led to accumulation.
Resolutions and Predictions
On the old Blogspot Conservative Wahoo, (nearly 6000 posts by multiple authors over 12 years) I used to do annual predictions and resolutions. The resolutions were mostly not kept and there was not accounting performed as to the effectiveness of the predictions. I’ll give it a go over here, if you promise to be similarly silent in judging me:
I will continue working on limiting social media use. On that front, I recently de-activated Linked-in, which wasn’t hard at all, since I had come to view it as a place for performative professional preening and virtue signaling anyway.
I’d like to work some stretching, balance, and strength training into my fitness routine.
I’ve porked up a bit from my COVID low, so I’ll finish 2023 weighing less than I do now.
I need to read more. Pleasure reading—I read a TON for work.
I’d like to be less quick to anger. Take that short pause to process and consider. Nothing gets me in more trouble than this.
Maybe a little less sarcasm, too. Second place on the “gets me in trouble list”.
The Eagles will not win the Super Bowl.
The economy will be in recession in 2023, but will not be by the end of the year.
The war in Ukraine will not be over on New Year’s Day 2024, but by then Russia’s defeat will be just a matter of time.
Joe Biden will announce that he is not running for re-election.
Donald Trump will be indicted by at least one state and by the Justice Department.
On 1 Jan 2024 the Dow Jones Industrial Average will be above 36,000.
UVA Men’s Basketball will finish third in the ACC and will be beaten in the Round of 16 in March.