My kitchen chairs are hard.

We have these pine ones. Pretty ordinary, but I’ve been working the last couple nights at the kitchen table on freelanceage so that I can kinda still hang out with the fam. It’s sort of depressing to go down in my dank basement as well. It’s dark and I know the water’s coming in. I can sense it. So I’m 3.5 hours in on the kitchen chair right now and fidgeting. Not cush.

I want to try and write in this thing more often. Last week conspired against me. Lots of snow (see the flickr page), illness (see bubonic plague) and bubba decided he wanted to go to the ER with the croup at 12 f$#*ing 30 in the am on the night of the biggest snowstorm we’ve had. I was prepared to go in the Bru, but Lyn called the nurse, she listened to his breathing on the phone and suggested an ambulance. So it came. It only had all season tires and 2 wheel drive. Barely made it in my driveway. I could have driven to the ER faster myself. Crazy. Bah. The tension is lost now. Seems like ages ago already and it was only last week.

Wonder if there’s enough to report to update this more often.

Didn’t work all last week. Not on vacation. We were all sick. Then we got better, then we got sick again. Nightly sleep average for Lyn and I was hovering around 2-3 hours tops. It got to the point I didn’t want to go to bed at all, I didn’t know what was worse, trying to stay up and occupy myself, or going to bed, getting to sleep only to be woken up 15 mins later by illness in the next room. Ugly, campers, ugly. We seem to do this every year. Damn traditions, you just can’t shake ’em.

Kjungleboy is rumored to be coming to visit. Stay tuned. Perhaps we’ll cut an Arrosox Reunion Box Set.

I’ve got freelance work out the ass. This is good. Cuts into nap time though. I’m 3 cups of coffee in right now and a bit punchy.

Saw Hillary fighting back tears on the TV tonite. The conservative rednecks must be having a field day with that one. Following that story, the newspeople went to talk to Obama’s family where they live. They spoke with his Grandmother, who doesn’t speak english (I admit, I don’t know exactly what she does speak, only that I believe it’s an african language). I mean it looks like the Democratic front runner is a black guy who’s relatives don’t fully speak the language and were still shucking corn on the farm when they were interviewed. I would not have believed that Democrats were this progressive had I not seen it on the TV. I mean, everything on the TV is true, so.

Even better than that was watching Dr. Phil rant and rave how everyone needed to leave Britney alone – that the girl was in dire straits and didn’t need the tv/exposure – it could only worsen things. He was telling this to whoever would listen. On the tv. Only in America.

Entertainment Tonight ran the whole night with stories on ‘Britney in Crisis’. Their words, not mine. They even had a specific ‘graphic’ for it. Like ‘Election 08’. ‘Britney in Crisis’. They said they were ‘following her every move.’ Dammit, didn’t they listen to Dr. Phil? That’s the last thing she needs! Don’t they CARE about Britney’s well-being?

Sigh.

Hillary’s in crisis too. How come Dr. Phil’s not coming to her rescue?

Quarantine.

We woke up this morning and the 30cm of snow we’re supposed to get had started to come down. Everyone is sick, except for Julia, and she’s in a terrible mood. I had to go out to the store this morning for the essentials, apple juice and medicine.

We’re all landlocked in the house together. Should be interesting.

Last one standing, wins.

Get inspirationized.

So many times in the past few weeks I have endeavoured to write something down.

Fill this hole.

I sit here now and it has all escaped me, come and gone. I get ideas about things, often at incovieninet times and they wound up lost. I think back now.

Perhaps it’s the time of year. The Holidays. The actual marking of the calendar year passing that turns my mind to these things. Really, I’ve never been much to celebrate New Year’s – I mean at the Youth Hostel, it was a reason to get loaded, enough said – but I’ve never really bought much into it. If anything I always found it a bit melancholy.

An old buddy of mine concurs, he calls it ‘Forced Fun’. Really, you can mark your years whenever you want. Maybe your year started the one day you decided to not take someone’s shit anymore. Maybe it was when you finished something. Maybe it was when you started. Maybe it was a beginning of something.So I sit here as I am wont to do, thinking about things I should be doing instead or that need to get done – though in fact not doing any of those – leading me to ponder things that have happened in the last span of time – say a year. For me it works as we’ve only lived here a year. I’ve been at this new job a year. We’ve been in this house a year. A year in a new city.

I think about things that didn’t get done and should have. Things that did get done and shouldn’t have and – well – you know what I’m saying.

During these times it’s so easy to grasp at the idea of ‘resolutions’. My more tried and true of readers will know that I’ve touched on the subject several times before. Dare I say I think at some point or another I’ve resolved to simply write more. Ahem. Well…

I’ve expressed disdain for the notion of resolutions as well as the merits of them. I believe I attempted to take some moral high road to the effect that we ‘should be good people all the time’ not just at New Year’s or some crap like that. I am familiar with alot of moral roads, both high and low, I’ll admit.

Behind it all I guess, it boils down to the fuel. What is it that is going to drive you to do these things, these resolutions. These radical alterations in a way of life that you (I) will undertake in quest of whatever it is we are questing for. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s Inspriation. I even used a captial ‘I’.

So go out and get inspired I say. Or better yet, inspire someone else. Giddy up.