As I have said in past years, I pretty much ignore Christmas and just let the holiday pass. There was no mojo in ho ho. I managed to avoid stores and crowds and the endless ads that are now a part and parcel of this particular holiday. I didn’t manage to avoid, sweets which seem to be everywhere.

Last year we went to Anchorage and celebrated the holiday with Judy and Brian, who I met at the conclusion of my Fairbanks to Valdez bicycle trek. Judy went out of her way to make it a special occasion. They came here the year before that and went skiing with Pete. I took Tyra for a walk. After, I kicked myself for being so inhospitable. Nevertheless, they remained friends with us.

Last year Brian was in a lot of pain – he could barely walk his back hurt so bad. I think it was his back. The medical problem was solved near miraculously right before he was to go into surgery. I was glad to hear this because it would have taken him a long time to recover from the surgical intervention.

This year I was aware that there was plenty of holiday who ha going on, but I still managed to avoid the not so good aspects of it. I’ve done better at avoiding the heavy sugar payload. And, interestingly enough, I’m feeling more energetic and sleeping a little better.

If we had more volunteers on hand, I would have suggested to them that we get a tree and decorate it. Problem is, real trees are real and fake trees are fake. I’m not fond of either. Maybe we’ll string up lights, that is if we aren’t moving, for then our lease will be up. Or maybe we’ll be celebrating having more permanent digs.

Pete and I don’t have any plans at all this holiday season. I would like to get Hrimmi out and maybe line drive her. She would like this. And Pete said tonight that he’s going to purchase and cook halibut. So this will be pretty much a day like most days around here. Pete purchased and gave me a flask, after I jokingly said that I’d like fill one with whiskey and carry it around. I am instead going to fill it with our homemade raspberry juice.

And I’ll continue working on Shelf Life. I have now gone from wondering where my draft copy is to having it underfoot. I don’t have a set place to put this document. My subconscious is telling my conscious what is and what isn’t important. I’m the intermediary, and as such, am listening carefully, and doing the requisite dictation.

When we cease working on a piece of writing, the ideas remain there, in the subconscious, and I suppose they can be pulled up any time. So all those poems and essays that I abandoned, they are there, waiting for me to resume work. This thought is comforting in that I would not be approaching these works anew but discomforting in that I’ll never revise them all.

Next: 351. 12/23/23: Christmas Eve, Eve