GS EOH

 The students in this semester's Journey to the West Class had obviously and collectively lost their minds.

That said, my arms are ripped.

And the Tree

 Before the storm hit we had already gone down to Morse Sugar Farm to get our tree. It's strange to think that I only started getting a real tree during my previous relationship, meaning that for over fifty years I always had a fake tree. I'm sure there's some great metaphor here, which, as usual, I'm too dense to understand.

Janet fought against my urge to get the smallest and saddest tree (because it makes me sad that they're going to spend Christmas Eve alone and unloved in the lot) and instead brought home this beauty.

Black Lodge

 The other night we had our first big snowfall of the season, topping out a little over a foot. It's funny, I've been in Vermont long enough when that seems like such a blasé statement. It was only about a foot, no big whoop (to paraphrase the excellent Andy Burkhardt).

Here we were, about halfway through the storm, night was falling at the snow plow guy had just made the first of two runs. It is a homey little place.

Happy Birthday

Someone, could be anyone, had a birthday the other night. Here's a picture I snapped at table #59 (the little one in the corner, overlooking the Winooski River) at Sarducci's here in Montpelier. Hopefully I'll always make Janet this happy.

I am so incredibly blessed to have this amazing woman in my life.

Bumming Around the Camp - and Life

 Here's an absolute rarity: a pretty good picture of me. One of the students snapped this picture one afternoon on the recent Jordan trip as we were hanging out a Suleyman's camp in between adventures. I look old, but not completely decrepit.

I shoot note that I'm wearing an Ali McGuirk Til It's Gone hat (which the students kept stealing and swapping amongst themselves) and my Four Corners of the World Deli t-shirt.

Sixty Eight

 Here's an epiphany I had the other day. Up to this point I've previous owned four houses, all of which I owned for six years. So, this is my fifth house, which I moved into this year, when I'm sixty two, and using irrefutable mathematic logic, I'll live in it for six years. Now, at that point I'll be sixty eight. Theoretically we could move to Portugal in 2028 (although I suspect it would be earlier), although I guess we could have already moved and then just sold the cabin that year - or Janet might toss me out at sixty-eight, although she's an awfully kind soul (but I wear on people, obviously) - or I could just kick the bucket. I'm going to bet on the latter. If that's the case I want the props for a brilliant prediction.

Potato Bun

 Last night Janet and I were invited over to Gary and Ali's place for a Christmas dinner - some seriously great tacos. This is a duh statement, but as a parent there is simply nothing better than seeing that your kid is safe and sound and flourishing. I love the life they're building together.

The only picture I have where Ali is actually standing still. All of my other pictures look like she has just received a call from a creepy, small Japanese girl crawling out of a well.

Oh, and I got to meet Ali's new cat, Potato Bun, who took an instant like to my shoulder.