Out of Horses

With many horses beaten and a few more bishops flogged, I’ve returned with another missal of life calamity.

My ongoing illness—well into its third week—had me returning to the doctor on Wednesday.

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Beating Dead Horses

I know, I know, I’ve been beating dead horses, playing on repeat, stuck in a rut, flogging the bishop, and smacking my mackerel for two weeks now. OK, maybe not those last two but all the rest applies; I’ll explain.

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Parking Lots & Winter Hikes

There are very few wintertime activities that bring me real, actual joy (drinking beer and masturbation don’t really count as wintertime activities, those are year-rounders). I’ve tried cross country skiing, and I’ve ridden my fat bike on snow-covered gravel many a time, but any attempt to ride “groomed” trails has always left me thinking I should have done something else.

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This Will Do

I have officially stopped trying to do a post in which I recap my trip to Jamaica. Since our return, I have been sick with the worst chest cold I’ve had in my life, AND I’m on the 2nd round of antibiotics in an attempt to heal my leg that I knocked/cut on a boat ladder in the ocean. In addition to that, Wifey picked up my chest cold, and we have had multiple ice storms that have left mid-Michigan ensconced in ice and frozen snow.

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Even Later

I wanted to do a travelogue about the trip Wifey, and I recently took to Jamaica, sort of like I did for our trip to Paradise, Michigan last summer. But the 7-day vacation was such a whirlwind of fun, rum, buns, and sun, that I now find myself playing mental catch up, trying to figure out what I did, what day I did it, and why I did it.

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Firsts and Out

Tomorrow I am leaving the United States for the first time in my life. I’m happy about that and plan on spending the next seven days far away from any news concerning the pathetic excuse for a President we have in the White House. The less I know about what goes on here, the happier I’ll be.

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GoNotSoPro™ Time

Wifey and I are going out of the country for the first time ever in a couple of weeks; Jamaica if you must know. Not my first choice for my first time leaping fuck face Trump’s “wall” around the U.S., but it looks like it’s going to be a killer time celebrating our 20th anniversary (1.5 years later) with another couple we’re good friends who are celebrating their 25th. Sun, beach, warm water, rum, and boobs; that’s pretty much all I need to survive. As documented here, I’m a woodsy-type of guy, but there’s something to be said for being a beach sloth. And rum.

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