From Mason’s Cabin

Discount rate for the funky cabin, and so another year comes to a close.  The first of many with this one.  A new spot for a polar bear dip, and a nice fire tonight for the burning of the end of year message to the universe.

Quite the magical 365 revolutions, safe flights across the seas, the TRV then PR secured, and 22 weeks into the pregnancy after the initial heartache.  And so 2022 promises more madness, of a unique kind, as we navigate the new waters and search for a new home.

More lessons to be learned all the time, the failure to check in on plans to pop in at the Inch’s leading to a shutdown and worries over emotional neglect and desire for alone time together.  Part of the moods, but incredible how riding the emotions can take its toll.  Goal of not messing up further on such fronts paramount for 2022…

The return to London after missing it in 2020 was a solo highlight for the year, the theatre and the nostalgia and the rest, notably a wifi call from Wembley herself.  Megabus x2 for the win, along with the destruction of Tottenham and so much else.  

Work promises to loom larger next year, although all should prove manageable.  In addition to the hope for a painless welcome into the world for young AA, highlights shall hopefully include a return to the inside of the OT for Paddy’s, Canada’s qualification for Qatar and the purchase of a match ticket or two, and the resumption of the MFA’s 2nd year.

As usual, new stuff to anticipate and old stuff requiring thankfulness.  The start of the year brings with it the goals of improvement, and I’d like to see if we can make the run to Robbie with an eye on health, avoidance of the social, and corresponding increases in reading and writing.  Cleansing some old crap also on the cards.

With any luck, next year’s checkin at this time will be the first as a papa.  Welcome, welcome, as they sung at the Royal.  Enjoy your stay and stay blessed one and all.

I don’t mind

Versus the more common place (here) I don’t care. Imagine that as an issue. And yet.

Hard to balance these things, the highs and lows, the swings and roundabouts.  The little ideas, not joining to the Inch afternoon, accusations of a long face, comment about nice people, the silences, etc. Then the visit to the Zambians, the natural sympathy, based on experience, the familiar look of helplessness in the eye, then the deer out front, the babe’s limp arm.  No shame in prayer, no doubt.

It is hard, easier now to understand how a couple can grow apart, how life lived among two can grow difficult.  The little things, not that they are hard but that they can fester. 

Funny texts tonight.  After the wine corked through…  hours left until the days of sobriety and exercise for the future.  And so tonight we lie and drink and reflect on the past.  

New Year soon.  Shall be a momentous one.

The Upcoming Months

This time of year, helpful in its focus on the new.  Moment for reinvention, fresh starts, focus.  Less than a week until the beginning, just the 5 work days remaining.  A bit of indulgence left before the leaf is turned…

Goals to aspire to include reading and writing versus social media, daily exercise and fresh groceries versus booze and fast food.  In short, the usual.  Add in a Jungian dream journal, plans for an office return, and the baby + housing efforts ahead to occupy the hours.  All the while navigating the possibility of spontaneous tears as heard tonight, the last of the Moncton visit.  Constant learning, how to be an adult, unexpectedly match-lighting in the dark, ever-reaching for unconditional love.

‘‘Twas the Night

What a hectic and fulfilling holiday, the traditions redone in new fashion, evolving and yet…

Some adaptation and exhaustion, recalling the lines about not having to eat it all… do you think she does not know that?  And memories of the summer, and the apologies for the smell of a dump at Caribou Lake.

The roles are set, and hard not to remember the days of Covid that were spent here, on this couch and that office, the deck and driveway, imagining the future that has arrived.  21.5 weeks, if it can be believed.  

So much to come.  So much to anticipate and navigate and savour.  A busy year.  Full of exceptional moments, and the need at last to describe them with the proper lettering.  Take the time offered, use it for the body and mind, to set yourself on the right road.  How many more nights under the same roof on this holy night?  Until the new traditions begin?

I wonder.  But with such a contented smile.  On this ancient couch.  Al in the air, and the skis laid out upstairs with chocolate milk and eggnog by Kath and indefatigable mom, Dad listening to the Ken Burns country music doc instead of the best plays of the year, and a Zambian asleep where you so often did when this pandemic began.  Such a marvel. 

I will tell you about it all some day, my son.  I’m pretty sure of what I saw, after you turned your face from your thumb toward the invisible camera.  Grow on, with as little discomfort to Mama as possible.

Adventing

The Boutique-y Whiskey and 24 days of rum sit to my right in the office.  A morning dram has a nice delight, as part of this month of festivities before drawing the curtain on another spectacular year.  Managed to fit in 3 weeks in February, 4 months over the summer, 3 UK weeks in September, and another 2 weeks in Africa before the return.  Almost 6 months all told, and now the nesting begins leading up to May.

The new year holds promise - time for writing, time for exercise, time for work, time for Burns and a Hamilton Bachelor Party and Paddy, time even for a potential wedding and, later, a Middle Eastern World Cup.  But most of all for the new one, whose heart was heard echoing just this morning.  "Easy and Boring," said Rittenburg with a smile.  Just how we like it.  Two weeks for the real excitement, and the start of distinct movements beyond the quickening.

Bank account established, initial IWK appointments finished (with fun one to come), new television, slowly crossing items off the list.  Real estate appointment Thursday.  Arsenal frustrations on the road, and with the Omicron madness so happy to have squeezed in that trip at that time.  Next global trip not for 11 months hence, and (positively) with the delightful madness of a plus one.  Onward to the glowing future.