The four hour flight to Phoenix gave me ample time to read my 2016 journal. Newer Spo-fans may not know I’ve kept a paper journal since the late 70s. Each year, between Christmas and NYE, I reread year’s entries to remember what I did and what does it convey.

Other than a few very nice holidays (Palm Springs and PEI) my 2016 journal conveyed a quiet and lackluster year. There was nothing terrible about the twelve months other than the death of an uncle. 2016 was a mundane year, an adventureless tale. Mostly I got up, I went to work, I did some exercise (sometimes), and it was all repeated. A read some books; I made some shirts; I saw a lot of theater (or attempted: I fell asleep in most of them). I tried to lose weight – I tried again. I ended the year weighing the same.

At the completion of the review I took a step back from my emotions to analyze them. If I was feeling a dull disappointment, it brings up the question what on earth was I disappointed in?  Here my inner-Auntie Mame raised her hand on high, martini glass in hand, and shouted “Live, live, LIVE!”  That is what felt to be missing.  In 2016 I was a good boy. I did my job, I did oh-so-sensible things. I did a lot of homework; I ironed a lot of shirts. I guess I am not content with the quiet satisfaction of daily doings.

It leads me to wonder what else to do/try in 2017. I have a few days to ponder and plan. Apparently I want gaiety, I want to travel, and I want some mad-cap Auntie Mame adventures.  I don’t wish to read 2017’s journal only to realize once again it was a year of work/exercise/sleep with a few pleasant perks.

Someone seems content to work and then sit and watch TV but not so for Urs Truly. I want more than a quiet existence.

I will tell you how this unfolds………