It’s been a while.
Picture me popping my head up from behind the walls of my book-fort, blinking slightly in the bright light of civilization….
…if only I were kidding. :)
I have a stick of incense burning, a beeswax candle flame a-flickering….not so much for pleasing ambience as more an attempt to quell the underlying stench of skunk which is currently seeping through the many cracks in the patchwork farmhouse. The Emma-dog disrupted our striped lodger* early this morning, just outside the back door which set off a stink bomb of retching acridness. Thankfully (and oh the thanks are many!) it wasn’t a direct hit on the silly dog, although she did get an unwelcome bath right after her breakfast (which was served in the mud-room because at that point I hadn’t realized she hadn’t been stinkified directly).
Not really what you’d call a blissful start to the day, but there you have it.
It’s Boxing Day morning as I type this. I’m occupying that state of blessed relief that It’s All Over For Another Year, which seems to be the paradoxical reality of Chrimbo…something to delight and despair, in mostly equal measure. This one was a particularly tricky one, emotionally, but we weathered it and are suitably proud of ourselves.
2018 hasn’t been particularly kind to me — or my family — in fact, it mostly sucked giant hairy moose balls. I’ll be happy to see it out the door….I may give it a boot in the arse as it goes.
Still, there were gifts to be had..hard-won, but ones that will serve me well in the days to come. I feel like I’m emerging from the Dark Wood…or at least, wandering the periphery now, as opposed to the deep and root-snarled inner paths. I’ve had time to ponder a thing or two and I hope to be spending a bit more time on ye olde blogge in the coming year.
(I actually really mean that this time :D)
Until then, lovely people (I make the mad assumption there’ll still be someone reading after my weeks of internet-neglect)….I wish you a gentle exit from 2018 and a 2019 filled with quiet wonder and delight.
*we appear to have an over-wintering “guest” lodging under the house. I occasionally cross paths with him/her as he/she emerges to dine on the cat food I serve to the other lodgers. A quick glance at my weekly food budget shows an eye-wateringly bloated column for the outdoor hangers-on.(!) Our striped friend, though, will have to be moved on, come spring, as the chance for catastrophic dog-skunk encounters will increase exponentially and having experienced that particular crisis twice before with our dearly-departeds, I have no wish to try it again!