I caught a break yesterday, another in a long string of caught breaks that pretty much define my life. This time it was small, dental, but it was still a break that went my way. I had a cavity on a tooth with a crown. It could have required another crown, or a root canal, or even an implant. But all it required was for me to keep my mouth open while the dentist and his assistant worked. When they finished the cavity was filled and I was on my way. I’ll need a new crown at some point, but not today. And just like that I went from a big cost to a little cost.

Goodness. It’s cold outside. A nice reminder that February is still winter and even in Texas that means a chill air. Of course, as the temperature dropped yesterday, and I went to the store in a hoodie and a jacket, I still saw men and boys in shorts. And I’m still not sure how that’s comfortable and why men do it. It used to be that only boys wore short pants and men wore long. Now, short pants are ubiquitous, a symbol of freedom, I suppose. But in cold weather it’s a sartorial choice that makes me wonder.

I had a good post day yesterday. It resonated with quite a few people. And that’s good. Except now I have to try and do it again the next day, and that’s damn near impossible, because resonating insights aren’t just lying around for the picking. The best I can do today is say that I solved the NY Times mini crossword in 44 seconds and that puzzle had 17 clues. My puzzle solving friends will understand and everyone else will just go, so?

This might turn out to be a pretty good day. I just solved the NY Times mini crossword in 50 seconds. Probably a record for me. If I hadn’t mixed up Monet and Manet it would have been under 50 seconds. Of course, I’m betting there are multitudes who routinely best the puzzle in a lot less than that. Still, it gives me a little buzz.

Home again. Home again. It feels good. We pulled out of Red River, NM around 8 a.m. yesterday, and I put my head on my pillow at 12:45 this morning. Two cars, eight people. We stopped for breakfast in Taos, and from there it was gas station food all the way home. New Mexico in the daytime is pretty, Texas at night is no great shakes, it’s blackness and the blinking red lights of wind farms, until you hit the blessed Interstate 10 with its 75 and 80 mph speed limit.

We went for a ride yesterday. Headed east out of town toward Bobcat Pass and then down to the town of Eagle’s Nest. It was a lovely drive. One I’d never taken before because we always come in from the west from Quest. The scenery was lovely and I decided I’d love to see the place in summer when the river was running and everything was green.

I took my first bath and massage in Hot Springs, Arkansas in the first years of the 21st century. The idea of another person bathing and massaging me, was strange, but I persevered and found it comforting. Eventually, the massage became part of my health maintenance routine, and now my massage therapist is a vital weapon in my battle with age and despair. When my muscles knot, my head refuses to turn, or my back aches, she reaches inside and chases away the demons.

I’m still in my book with my quantum theories and now I'm in the multiverse phase which implies, almost in comic book fashion, that nothing happens until it's observed and all possible outcomes in all possible combinations exist in their own universes and there’s more to it than that from a physics standpoint because there’s something about a wave not collapsing that I don’t totally get.

As I’m reading my book, Six Impossible Things, by John Gribbin, a tidy little book dealing with subatomic particles and their mysterious duality as particles and waves, I am struck by something. Every physicist mentioned has performed a thought experiment, oftentimes because technology has not advanced to a stage that would let them perform a live experiment, but usually just to prove a point about the mysterious quantum world.

I just read a book, Six Impossible Things, by John Gribbin. It’s a tiny book which is fitting because it deals with the mystery of tiny things, subatomic particles. They can be in two places at once, and act as either a wave or a particle, and there are formulas to prove both. No one to date has successfully explained why the particles behave as they behave, although several have tried and that's the subject of the book.

Here we go. A new day. No turmoil to report. No angst. Only the realization that turning over your life to algorithms is probably a bad idea, unless you know how to make the algorithm work in your favor. I’ve figured it out on most platforms, and some I’ve left entirely. But I still find myself responding mindlessly to the screen, making someone money I’m sure.

Interesting. I started down a writing path this morning, got one paragraph in and decided it wasn’t something I wanted to talk about, probably because it’s likely I’ve talked about it before although it’s difficult to imagine a personal topic I haven’t touched on in the ten years I’ve been writing this blog. Still, I stopped and started over. This is the result. It feels marginally better.

I’m home. And it feels good. Slept in my own bed. Walked out onto the porch this morning and looked at the pasture. Looked at the sky. Now for the rest of the day. I washed everything before I left my daughter’s home, so all I need to do is put things away, attach decals to guitar cases, and remember the good times.

In the first four Christmases after my wife’s death in 2020, I dressed myself and the house for a party in which one of the guests was gone. Children still came, friends still visited, but the missing soul was still missing. So, this year, when my daughter invited the family to her new home in Virginia, I thought it might be the perfect opportunity to start anew, do something fresh and different. I made my plans and left town and the undecorated house.

In the early morning, on a fine summer day, just as the sun is rising there can be a moment when the beach is all mine except for the tide and the shore birds. It's a sight quite literally never to be seen again, and being there to see it, to be the one to see it, fills me with quiet pleasure. It’s been that way all my life. And that's how it feels this morning as I stare off into the first day of 2025.

Here we are. The last day of 2024. The year started with me fretting about the need for surgery, A big surgery by most measures to repair an abdominal aortic aneurysm. Finally deciding on the date, then having the surgery mid-March. Seven stents fixed all the broken bits. In July, I was told everything looked good, and they’d see me next year. That’s half a year gone, while interspersed with thoughts of mortality..

I’m back. Took some time off for Christmas and healing. The latter was needed because a small bug attacked me the day after Christmas. It laid me low, and my daughter, and now my son-in-law. I feel nearly healed today. I can breathe again, and my cough is only occasional. It's weird being sick away from home but I’m finding my way.

The big trip is off to a good start. Our small army of a family hit DC yesterday and immediately set off in multiple directions to see multiple sites. We have lots of first time visitors to our nation's capital and they all had things they wanted to see–The Library of Congress, the Smithsonian Museum of US History, the Mall, the Capital, the monuments. We rode the Metro like veterans, bundled up against the cold, ate dinner together, and had a boys and girls night out. It was glorious.

The stars on a cold clear night sure seem big and bright, and closer, too. As if they were just over the treetops. And last night as I left a friend’s house in the chill of the evening, I could see Orion’s belt, clear as day, and it felt as though I could reach up and unbuckle it, and as I drove through the dark, I surprised the moon resting on a hilltop, taking a break before it continued its journey into the night of a December sky.