Still here. Still alive. Paid my money to be here another year – even slapped down the extra gelt to remove the ads from the bottom of each post (you’re welcome). If that’s not a statement that I intend to be in this space for the foreseeable, I don’t know what is.
December was remarkably quiet. In the acting end of my life, it’s usually full of holiday parties. Not 2016, though. Then, surprisingly, January opened full throttle; I think we had more shows in the first two weeks of January than we had in the entire month of December. Some believe this is because people figured out the world wasn’t actually going to end (immediately) and were relaxing. They pointed to the Stock Market, among other things.
It seemed to me that this is more like the parties held the night before the final battle in Seven Samurai and Magnificent Seven, but what do I know? I’m just an American citizen of no celebrity, with no stock portfolio, and therefore no worth.
The other side of my employment situation cranked up, too: extra City Meetings, some previously scheduled, some not. This week starts my weekly stories. At some point this semester I am going to have to pretend once more that I don’t despise sports.
In all this, I actually have been working on a post, which is only two-thirds finished and about 1500 words. I hope to have that up in the next few days, but don’t lay any money on that, ‘kay? Stay tuned. Like I said, another year. Which is, oddly enough, the length of time I expect my current health insurance to exist.
Yeah, I’m just a bowl of happy candy today, ain’t I?
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drfreex.com 
Good. Yep, sitting on/trying to finish stuff about entertaining diversions is Catch-22 rough. I turn off the news, start writing, get curious and peek a few hours later and the Poseidon has rolled over a few times. Again. Bad doggie!
At this point, the powers that be playbook isn’t even hidden, but my morbid curiosity demands I see where those tracks being laid end up. Not in person, though. I’ll be stuffing homemade dough in my pockets for that last big pizza party, that’s for damn sure. Or something like that. What a year…
What a year indeed. Take care of yourself, my friend.
Doc, I’ve been reading your stuff since 1999; thanks for keeping at it. I hope to meet you in person before much longer.
Well, thank you. I’m flattered.