It’s the last day of 2025. Some will now go traipsing down memory lane, and others will remain in place. I will stand still and take a quick look back over my shoulder.

I remember a year ago, writing about the end of 2024, and being sorry to see it go. I am not as sorry to see the passing of 2025. It was a shit show politically, with the pendulum swinging as far to the right as it could go. I’d like to think this, although perhaps it could swing further right. It is now time, however, for it to swing back to the left. If this happens, 2026 will be a better year.

I am writing this dispatch early in the day because while I’m planning on our getting home early, we may get home later, in which case I won’t have the time or be up for doing much writing. And if I do any writing, my focus will be on Shelf Life.

It was a good strawberry year

I’m cutting corners while working on it, putting off doing BLBP work. I have ceased to swim. I would like to take lessons and learn to swim. The question is, where am I going to find the time to do this? So, for now, swimming is on the seldom used back burner.

I have a tough section ahead, now going to write a chapter entitled “For Pete’s Sake,” which is going to be a chapter in which I acknowledge his unconditional love for me and his devotion to this project. The tricky part is this – I can’t say this without there being a realization that this is so. This realization has to be a specific event. And I think this is going to have to be one of the board meetings in which I am called on the carpet. How am I going to do this without offending someone and having them threaten to sue me?

I can change names. I will do this. But bringing the characters to life, this is going to be difficult.

I like having these sort of writerly problems. I have for some time been dealing with over abundance related problems. Right now we are short on books, so I am spending time finding ways in which volunteers might give an assist. Yesterday, I was border line brilliant in that I had volunteers sorting, stamping, categorizing, and then gift wrapping the floppy, ready to read children’s books.

I was in my own head when I entered the former banquet room of the historic Eagle Hotel, and extricating myself and focusing on the more external tasks at hand was difficult.

On to another topic. The horses – the end of the year. The final day of the year has dawned breezy and cold. Sunrise (we get up with the sun and there is no way around this) oranges and reds. Tyra’s poop is looking good. Feeding her by herself and giving her supplements seems to result in more solidity.

Tomorrow, I will write about the year ahead. I made a short traipse here, one that could hardly be called a traipse.

Next: 1. 1/1/26: Happy New Year