Writing is not usually like pulling teeth for me, (which reminds me of my 2017 resolution: floss, floss, floss), but I keep pulling out my computer, considering writing a post, and making carrot soup instead. There’s this general fear of falling so short of communicating my thoughts that I lose my readers in dentist chair nightmares where they’ll never learn my deepest truth – that I’ve been trying to sleep through the winter.
It hasn’t been easy. Winter in New England is beautiful and even though I personally feel it’s too cold for life, the outdoors are waiting temptingly right outside my door, the bastards. The night before Thanksgiving was spent in an icy shelter that Legs, my dad, and I were revisiting on the Appalachian Trail, and after freezing our asses off for like fifteen hours in inadequate sleeping bags, we thought maybe no more winter camping. Of course Mountain Goat comes along and all bets are now off.
But back to my daily challenges. I sleep to dream of when it’s warm enough to play outside all day again, and I can’t wait for my next adventure. I’ve been working at The Ale House and going to the gym and reading books, but those all feel a little like stalling, winter always sort of does that to me, which I suppose is why it was so difficult to come up with words for my life lately. They come brought to you in part by death threat. No anthrax, Peach. Happy New Years tramily! Love you all dearly.
And actually something that’s better than all that nonsense is the fact that I am happy.