
Wow, you gotta give January credit. As I type this shit on Sunday morning, it is, of course, still dark out, and of course, we are entering our 21st day of 22 featuring grey, sunless skies. Fuck January.

Wow, you gotta give January credit. As I type this shit on Sunday morning, it is, of course, still dark out, and of course, we are entering our 21st day of 22 featuring grey, sunless skies. Fuck January.

My family and I are about to spend the Christmas holiday in our own home for only the 2nd time in the past 12 years. The first time was in 2020 when the world was balls deep into the COVID-19 pandemic, so there was little to feel good about. This time it’s ongoing dog boarding issues have prevented us from traveling back to Western PA for the holiday, and if you know me, my distaste for holiday travel, and my love of routine, you know I’m pretty stoked about that.

This week picked up where last week left off with more time in the woods with my camera.

In August, I wanted to start putting together hikes in the 5+ mile range and aim to do them at least four times a week. I thought it would fill a void between pointlessly “walking” on the Dreadmill and pushing myself physically like I do/did when mountain biking, all the while being in the woods with my camera. And I was right; it allowed all of that. However, forcing my more-out-of-shape-than-I-care-to-admit self to jump right into 5-mile hikes in the woods during the heat of August was not the best idea; my back paid the price, and I experienced multiple painful back spasms during those hikes.

The first week of Empty Nest Syndrome was everything I expected it to be and more. And by that, I mean that I had all the expected symptoms of missing B, but because Jason gotta Jason, I also threw in a few days of malaise, regret, self-loathing, ennui, self-flagellation (not the good kind), and learning to talk in the third person as I come to grips with now being what can only be described as virtually useless to society. I’m not sure why I needed my son to start college to point out the obvious again, but here we are.

Last week was a pretty sweet week of “doing stuff.” It contained multiple trips to the gym to lift heavy things for no reason and nearly 20 miles of hiking and creeping around the woods with my camera.
Then there’s this week.

Like Al Camus (not that one, the Al Camus that works at Marty’s Bar washing dishes) once said, “sometimes you have to look over your shoulder before you can fail.” And that, my friends, is why I am here today.

You may or may not remember the issues with my vision that sent me to my eye doctor a few weeks ago, where I was diagnosed with cataracts and sent to see an eye surgeon to get shit rolling for surgery this summer. Well, the appointment with the surgeon was this morning, and after a bunch of tests, it turns out I do NOT have cataracts but was suffering from a dry eye episode that was causing the blurred vision and light sensitivity.

Just a quick post to prove that I’m still alive. I know the value of that is questioned by many, including myself, but I’m still here, just like that faded mustard stain on your favorite Superchunk t-shirt1. It’s just that life has been busy with many un-blog-worthy things.

On Friday, I found myself oddly void of the desire to visit the Caligula-like setting of the gym and all of its sweat, testosterone, and cluster bomb pheromone attacks camouflaged in Gymshark tights. Instead, I opted to get some shit done and then do a short photo walk at Meridian Park. This obviously did nothing for my rotund shape but did get me out of the house, and somedays, that’s all that matters.