It’s that sad sack Adam Duritz.

It’s a couple of minutes shy of midnight and I’m here on our balcony listening to the Counting Crows, an old song about a long December. It’s Adam getting melancholy over the smell of hospitals in winter and holding on to moments as they pass. Sigh. Words like that make this icy breeze seep deeper into the bone.

This should not be the case. December, after all, has rolled in with all its attendant promises: some extra cash, cold nights, parties and reunions. I look at my schedule for the next three weeks, and my head hurts. Bacchanalian shindigs to attend to, friends to hook up with, places to go to with the family, not to mention gift-shopping and grocery and all that domestic Yuletide stuff. There’s also a plan for an out-of-town swing. My Singapore-based sister-in-law will be in town for a week-long Christmas romp, and she wants adventure.

And yet.

Curse you, Adam. Curse you and your voice to hell.

December has always been a favorite. It’s a month I consider my own. It’s when I sit down and relax and be thankful for the year’s blessings. It’s also when I assess the past 11 months for mistakes committed and lessons learned. A month for celebration and introspection, December is.

With the aforementioned schedule, there will be little to no time to blog in the coming days. But I owe this page my “best of” post. Two of them, actually: one for music, one for books. If only I’ve all the time in the world. We’ll see. For the meantime, I sit here on our balcony, alone under cold December stars, enjoying this moment as it passes.


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