Bizcochito

 

It feels like we've been in such a long stretch of hopelessness. When I was a kid, we lived under the cloud of nuclear holocaust, but then there appeared MTV and the music of the 1980s which directly led to the Intermediate Range Nuclear Forces Treaty and by 1989, the wall fell, which was joyful, even though we were sad that it also meant the end of the music of the 1980s, which gave so much for our freedom. And even though music was never as good, life itself was a little better and there were early signs of promise.  1990 saw the rise of the first '80s cover bands, for instance. In 1991, I successfully defended my high school diploma. I suppose I was foolishly optimistic.

This past year did have some bright spots. I saw a mermaid in Montana. I went on an epic fishing trip in Alaska. Cyndi Lauper was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. We visited France. 

But my body turned on me, and I have not been able to the least bit of alcohol without suffering an immediate headache. I've tried three times in the last month hoping maybe it's a temporary allergy, and I know that no one likes a quitter, but even songs of the 80s had to end at some point (December 31, to be exact). And, most depressing of all, we lost the remaining of our two doggos, which hit us so surprisingly hard that we sort of lost our bearings. Everyone goes through tough times, I know. If we're wise, we make the best of it; if we're lucky, we learn from the worst of it.

Mostly, what we have learned is that there are several very good animal shelters in the area.

Biscuit!