Just a few more weeks

The day wasn’t as relaxing as I had hoped. Nothing terrible or tragic, just little frustrations that were annoying me.

What to do? How about book a vacation?

Age is … whatever number it is

I’ve long pondered the implications of age, but especially turning 50, even months before it actually happened.

My primary insight remains the same — that I don’t know what 50 feels like because I don’t know what 50 is supposed to feel like — but to be honest, the whole thing is probably a fool’s errand, anyway.

After all, it’s mostly because we have a thing for ages divisible by 10, and to a lesser degree five, but when that first number is a five … now, we’re talking.

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Pieces for me

It’s not a “secret spot,” not even “my spot.”

Given that it’s a footbridge between a public parking lot and the town’s shopping district, I’m sure the town mothers and fathers would be very distressed if it was either of those things.

But what it is, is “a spot.”

Maggie Rogers and the power of joy

“WE’RE GOING TO HAVE FUN.”

Of course we were. How could we not? It was Friday, for starters, but as bonus, we were going to see Maggie Rogers in Boston that night.

But we adopted the mantra of impending “FUN!” to get past worrying about getting through the workday and the thought of our 50-something selves standing for a couple hours in a hot club with the better part of 3,000 people who could be our children.

Breaking down

Getting dressed to go to the gym, I grabbed a pair of shorts out of the drawer.

They were thick, gray sturdy athletic shorts that I’ve had forever … and I looked down to notice they had holes in a place you don’t want to have holes.

So much for those shorts. They certainly didn’t owe me anything.

Hidden on the ground

The sun, sky and setting combined to set the scene in that perfect, just-before-sunset kind of way.

Given a choice of going to the gym or walking outside, Suzi and I figured that since it was reasonably warm and there was at least a little light left, we’d hit the walking trail near our house.

We weren’t the only ones thinking the same thing, as we passed multiple fellow flashlight-carriers.

What you see …

The wintry mix having gone through, it left the trees with a frosting of snow.

Add the stream flowing through, and it made for a lovely scene, a delightful setting for a walk along the trail.

Except …

Cool stuff and a COVID reminder

There was a left, and a right, then another left and another right … or maybe it was a right and a left, followed by another right and left … or perhaps there were consecutive lefts or rights in there somewhere.

But after all the lefts and rights, and passing through what looked like a staff lounge — the whole building had a 1970s elementary school vibe to it — we arrived at our destination.

Snow Village.

RIP, paddle

It was a short, high ball, arcing toward my left shoulder.

Perfect opportunity … set the feet … cock the elbow behind me … wait, wait … lots of space … go for the spot, not the line … time to let it go … nice and easy … be sure to get on top of it.

There it is … no return … nice easy winner. Now get ready to serve with a chance to win the game.

Hold on … I’m pretty sure the handle isn’t supposed to do that.

Keeping an open mind: Nov. 13

I heard the Christmas music, a bit early for my taste, but didn’t pay it any mind otherwise.

Not that I’m bringing back the Holiday Creep amnesty, but whether it’s because I’ve had other things on my mind or I’ve found myself looking forward to the start of this year’s Suzi’s Wonderful Christmas, I just haven’t gotten worked up about it.

Don’t get me wrong … I’m still not partaking yet. My evening drink of choice is still apple cider and not egg nog, and I am definitely not even contemplating organizing my Christmas shopping like Becky does.