Being lost in space and time has its advantages, except when you want to get things done, and forget that Monday was a national holiday. So, no bank, no post office, no courthouse.

What a nice surprise. Eight hours of sleep. All at once. Straight through. One tiny wake-up, I think, it may have been a dream. Feels like the old days. Go to bed, wake up to the alarm. Can I repeat the feat tonight? We shall see.

Call me Mr. Industrious. Yesterday. I got my car inspected. Pruned a peach tree and dug up a dead one. I spent three hours burning a pile of brush.

It’s a fine winter’s morning here on the outskirts of our little town, and I confess to feeling blessed.

Information traveling at the speed of light is the blessing and the curse of the internet. Arcane scientific debates get played out in full view and people woefully ignorant of any facts get to have opinions.

I’m starting the fourth day of my vaccination vacation, although it’s not really a vacation, I just wanted to use two words that started with V. And now that I think about it, I should go with venture, as in a venture into the unknown, a vaccination venture. But enough with the alliteration.

My vaccination symptoms, such as they were, have abated. My shoulder is no longer sore. I did wake up last night with a fiery pain in one of my arthritic feet, but it too went away. Hard to know if it was a symptom of the shot, or just some random old guy nerve thing.

Vaccination day went off without a hitch yesterday. The Covid emptied highways made for easy traveling. The vaccination givers were all in place. I answered questions, had my temperature taken, was handed a sheaf of papers and got my shot.

What a day. It started snowing mid-morning and continued snowing through early evening. When it was all said and done the ground was covered in a blanket of snow and all its imperfections were erased.

It’s raining in the Hill Country this morning. Later today we might get snow. It’s Sunday morning. I’d go to church if I could because it just feels like a day for that. It’s been a hard week.

Whenever I walk around the yard and the back lots, the cats follow me. I think they’re hoping I’ll kill a gazelle and there will be something to eat.

I remember two things about 1954. The New York Giants beat the Cleveland Indians in the world series; I was crushed. And I participated in the trials for the new Salk polio vaccine; we were living in Corpus Christi at the time.

I had a good day yesterday. Made the bed. Took down the Christmas decorations. Talked to my children. Talked to old friends. Watched a bit of TV. Bought some shoe polish. Checked the mail. Got a package. And my college team won a basketball game. Pretty ordinary stuff.

I could really do with a hard freeze. Something in the teens. Winter is passing here in the Hill Country and we’ve yet to see one. There’s a bit of rain this morning and a front is on the way. But it’s only going down into the high 20s this weekend, and no one has ever called that hard.

I have a small piece of brass plate, about 3.5 X 5 inches. There are several windows cut in it, holes drilled, and other pieces of brass attached to it.

I fixed my broken garden angels. Two had heads returned to their shoulders, and the other was mounted and made ready for cemetery duty. As for the third, there’s a story.

I can really sense the tempo of the earth at morning. Get a feel for the slow spin of the planet on its axis in its heavenly circle around the sun. It’s a measured pace of big things in a big place…

This is a little story about a friend who helped me in a pinch yesterday, and it was an odd pinch, and probably not much of a pinch at all, small actually.

Now starts the eighth year of these little missives. Last year was the most productive by far. I managed to sit down and write 330 times. I think most of it was in self-defense.

Here we are at the end of the year. Wow. For the first time in recent memory, I’ve heard no discussion from my friends as to evening plans, even though for the last eight years, at least, our evening plans consisted of going to bed, and discussions were basically a formality.