New Year's Eve

           Another New Year’s Eve, another time for promising to lose that ugly forty pounds hanging over our belts, to forgive and forget past grievances, to think more and say less, to pray that Robert Mueller will finally conclude his investigation. There. That should be enough to resolve.

          In years far past, 365 days seemed to move lazily along, like a meandering stream through the landscape of our lives, with only a few changes in lifestyle and technology, few surprises, just 365 steps from A to B. But now it’s like a dash from alpha to omega. Now, on the eve of year 2019, there’s no way to predict where we’ll be or what the world will be like a year from now. Will we be on the brink of war with China or Russia? Will we be in the depth of a recession almost as deep as what we had in the 1930’s? Will we have a wall on our southern border that actually works? Will our highways be nothing but giant potholes? Will Jeff Bezos own the world? Will Alexa and her sisters become androids to do our bidding, maybe even deciding for us what our bids should be? Will Donald Trump still be our president? So many questions, so few answers.

          Should I put on red underwear tonight hoping for a little romance? Nah, my tighty-whiteys will have to do. Should I eat twelve grapes to represent my twelve hopes for the New Year? Nah, that’s only wishful thinking. We need to do more than hope. We need to consider who to vote for in the 2020 election. The political jockeying will begin a year ahead of time. It looks like there could be anywhere from fifteen to thirty democrats who will decide to give it a run. We may have to draw a bigger circle to hold all those hats. Will Trump be the republican nominee or will the GOP have come to their senses and decided they’ve had enough of him? So many questions, so few answers.

          I haven’t yet decided if this will be my last blog or if I should just take a mini-vacation from blogging. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. But until then, Happy New Year, everyone.

          You will notice that the sofa is empty except for the New Year’s Eve leavings. Rosalie and I never made it to midnight. Our sleep gods called to us at 10:00.