Setting the intention

I began today with a little yoga.

Scratch that. (Yes, I did do yoga, but…) I woke up late, to the strident sounds of the geriatric felines, yowling for breakfast and crying in blind confusion like a fussy infant, respectively. My head was fuzzy and I felt like I was being pried from a glorious dream world. I went to bed just a little too late last night, after knitting and baking most of the evening, and drinking just a touch too much wine. Knitting and alcohol are an odd couple, but somehow they seem meant to go hand in hand.

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Be Where Now?

The final weeks of the calendar year offer an easy excuse for nostalgia, although I sometimes think I’m plagued by perpetual nostalgia, to a point where I sometimes refer to myself as a nostalgiac, or perhapsĀ  nostalgiaholic. Or maybe, barring a bunch of silly neologism and thinly disparaging labels, it’s just a lot of unrealized dreams and sometimes plain and simple regrets tinged with wistful longing.

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