See, What Happened Was... (A Toast, Probably A Short One)

Here's to you, 2023. You could have been worse.

I've done this sort of post several times before, so I guess it's a tradition, at this point. My favorites were 2013's See, What Happened Was... (which includes the origin story of that goofy title, and 2017... It's Not Me - It's You, one of my many breakup conversations with the inanimate. We have just under three hours of 2023 left, so let's be brief. 

Here's to January, which is mostly a blur of overtime and end-of-year gift processing for Beloved Employer, aided by my trusty endangered black-footed helperferrets...

"Is this really only one day's worth??"

Here's to February, the first half of which [Maris] and I spent with COVID. Yeah, I know. We were at least two years late. All the cool kids had caught it ages ago. What can I say? We've both spent our lives being unfashionably late for every fad or trend, ever. Why would COVID be any different? Our cases were relatively mild, which was still BLEAH, but made us grateful for all those shots.

February was also the month in which we learned that not only had Beloved Employer sold our dingy-but-cherished HQ building (5ish minutes from home), but they had also changed course and would not be finding another suburban space for us in-office personnel. We would be asked to commute to the fashionable but 75- to 90-minutes away "West End" of DC, where we maintain another mostly-empty office. I'm not exactly "cheers-ing" that... yet.

Here's to March, with its requisite Madness, made all the madder by the rapid preparation for leaving our HQ. If you've ever moved out of an apartment or house, you're no doubt familiar with being fully overwhelmed at seeing how much STUFF has accumulated and needs to be packed or thrown away/given away etc.. Yeah - try that with an office building that once held several hundred employees who apparently never got rid of anything over the past 35 years. So that was fun - and it was just beginning.

Wait - you know what? No cheers for March, either! I forgot Mom dislocated her shoulder for maybe the 30th time, and sat in an E.R. waiting room hellscape for about 13 hours. I was literally searching for an open walk-in clinic when they finally called her name. Next time, we're just going to slam her into a door frame, a la Mel Gibson's character in "Lethal Weapon."

Hmm... Cheers withheld for April, too. I grudgingly started shedding cubicle stuff in preparation for a downsized and not nearby cube in DC. Started taking wistful pictures of the old, rapidly-emptying office...

See? Sad.

Here's to May, because I feel bad not clinking glasses with one month after another. I worked my last day in the office right down the street...

Bye, cow painted by famous guy whose name escapes me...

...and worked my first day at the beautiful but distant DC office. To be fair, I love it there. There are some fabulous colleagues who, like me, actually come in to the office quite a bit, so that's been fun. The commute isn't even really that bad (when the weather is good and Metro's not broken). It just takes so LONG to get there. I marvel at you people with two-hour commutes for years and decades on end. Here's to you!

We're *DC* black-footed ferrets, now!

Here's to June! Nothing happened! Worked on my commuting skills, did some cooking and grilling and got a teensy idea for a possible twelfth novel, and a friend said, "do it," and [Maris] said "see you in August..."

Here's to July, during which I managed to crank out over 56,000 words, several of which might actually go together in ways that make sense. I don't know. I haven't reread it, yet - or finished it. I just kind of kept going. I can do that. It's a gift.

Here's to August! Nothing happened! It was hot, or something. Probably humid, too. Kept writing. Got a little bogged-down, but stayed in the fight...

Cheers, September. I'm sure you were a nice month. I appreciated learning of my promotion, which came a mere eleven months after I took on all that important, time-sensitive work. And the continuing wordiness that had my little novel #12 at over 80,000 words by month's end. Also, I was pretty much finished decorating for Halloween by then...

"Help!"

Here's to October, because vacation. 'Nuff said...

That'll do, OBX. That'll do.

Hi bird! Could you just scootch a bit to the right?

Here's to you, November, when I inexplicably decided to have another go at "National Blog Posting Month," and write a new post every day (which here means night) for the entire month. Actually, it's pretty explicable - it's because I am some sort of masochist. I did it, though! And one of those 30 bits of drivel was MY 300th POST!

Is that a lot? Also, do you dig our hats?

Also in November, we found The Last Spider. You can read about it in one of the "Thankfulness" posts from that month...

Hi. I'm not even hiding, dude. Sheesh.

Here's to December, still echoing in my exhausted ears. There was the Trans-Siberian Orchestra...

((Christmas Devil Horns))

There were [Maris]'s gnomes, and their 12 days of shenanigans...

They had a lot of help, this year. Merry Christmas, fellas.

There were downs, there were ups. Sadly, there was NOT peace on earth (not enough, anyway). But in my tiny sliver of the planet, the month ended strong.

So let's raise a glass to 2023, and eat, drink, and be merry. Most of us are keenly aware of what kind of show 2024 promises to be. I'll regret saying this, but tonight I say BRING IT. The good people of this country and others will find our way through this. We shall breathe in, breathe out, and stay in the fight - together.

Cheers...

Riders On The Storm: A Prep Talk

 

Another storm? Nope. Pretty much the same one. Photo by Joe

Remember the early days of 2021, when I was blathering on about THE STORM, and I basically predicted January 6th? I do. The post devolved into a bunch of half-hearted new year's resolutions, and we're not going to rehash them here, but that bit about trudging on through a Category 5 shitstorm merits a wee follow-up.

I won't go into the details about the continuing and regrouping and rebuilding storm that consumes our nation and much of the world - but you should. I know - it's exhausting and it feels utterly redundant and futile and all that - but trust me when I say that the bad guys are absolutely counting on us being too exhausted with the 24/7 casserole of nonsense to keep paying attention to what they're up to. Also, if I've learned anything since about 2015, it is this: even the most "liberal" news outlets on earth are scarcely scratching the surface, when it comes to reporting on and/or explaining what is happening - and what is in the works for 2024 and beyond. 

It's time to close the shutters, it's time to go inside... Photo by Joe

I have only one recommendation for mitigating that effect. Find yourself a historian who is well-versed in politics, and let them do the work for you. My go-to over these past few years is Professor Heather Cox Richardson, and her "Letters From An American" have been invaluable - for better informing me, for framing current developments within a historical context, and for doing so without sensationalism and hyperbole. I'm sure there are many others like her - probably even some on the conservative side, with a moderate, academic bent. Find yours. It's important.

BUT FIRST...

We're on the ride, clamped into our seats. We have no choice. Like it or not, we're taking a ride. So, if we're going to be riders, let's RIDE! 

Start with a drinking game, if that's your thing... Biden falls down, or confuses Kevin Hart for The Rock - DRINK! Ex-president says something overtly, shockingly racist and/or fascist (a dog whistle to his base, but also consciously designed to distract us) - DRINK! Some US state jerrymanders its congressional districts like an inkblot test in order to guarantee one party's dominance - DRINK! Putin dies like three months ago, but is still calling the shots in modern war crime - DRINK! A Kardashian says something - DRINK! Congratulations - everybody's drunk.

Riding on... I'm not officially advocating a complete tune-out, but hey - how about trying a complete tune-out! I know I'm constantly preaching cartoons and sports and bad movies - and COSMOS - as coping mechanisms, but there are SO MANY others. Knitting looks like a good one - concentrating and yet thinking about nothing. Cross-stitch. Painting. Writing inane little backstories for SEVEN HUNDRED ludicrously-named fictitious hoboes. Dancing. Exercise. Researching the origins of the best (and worst) dirty jokes. Or DAD JOKES! Jumping in puddles. Brushing your cat's teeth. As long as you're engaged in some sort of activity, you're most likely not watching The Storm. 

As Ren shrieks at Stimpy in the "Space Madness" episode, "We're not hitchhiking anymore - we're RIDING!"

Is it gonna get worse? Of COURSE it's gonna get worse, and probably in ways we can't predict. We all know it. I'm trying to treat it like the threat of terror attack (or, more likely, getting caught up in a mass shooting at a local shopping center) - yes, we should be vigilant, but we can't ruin our lives in service of those fears. We must walk on. Storms are storms. They can be spectacularly destructive, but they end. Even that giant red spot thing on Jupiter will eventually spin itself out. 

So here's to weirding it up and riding this thing out - through 2024 and beyond. We can have fun with it, and it's in our collective best interest to try. It's my prime directive, at this point...