Sunday, January 10, 2016

We’ll take a cup of kindness yet…

Happy 2016! As always, I like to start the New Year off with a thank you to everyone who participated in Nathan Bransford’s Hooray for Heifer drive (you know who you are). Over the years, we’ve been able to help him raise more than $10,000 for people around the world… one farm animal at a time. In the past we donated honey bees and ducks, but this time I mixed it up a bit and purchased part of a goat. I’m hopeful it was the sweet part (like the big eyes, soft ears and warm heart). If not, then I apologize in advance that it ate your bed and shit on your roof (or vice-versa). And yes, that really happens. I’m from Appalachia, I know these things.


As for New Year’s resolutions, I think I’m going to pass this time around. They never seem to work for me. In fact, I would argue that they have the opposite effect. Honestly, when I make them, it’s like I go out of my way to find things to do simply to avoid what I’m actually supposed to be doing. THAT’S RIGHT WORLD, SUCK IT! NO ONE TELLS ME WHAT TO DO. NOT EVEN ME!

Note to self: Update your will. Your passive-aggressive unwillingness to run means that you will probably stroke out and die at forty-five. Worse yet, because you refuse to commit to a regular writing schedule, your readers won’t even know you’re dead. They’ll think it’s “just been a while” since you posted something to mkromd.

With that, I’m off to plan this year’s ski trip; and, wait for it, instead of heading out West or back East, we’re going to stay in the Mid-West. That’s right, TB and I have been cordially invited to Mount Bohemia in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. They had her at “extreme skiing just south of Canada” and me at “you have to sleep in a yert.” Like Marx said, “To each what they need. From each what they can provide.” Besides, I ask you… how bad could it be? Lots of people have group slept… in a tent… on the side of a mountain… that’s covered in four feet of snow.

We're like urban sherpas... She's welcome.  

Talk to you later (unless I don’t because I died, which could happen because I refuse to get on a treadmill or because Bigfoot is real and attacked us/stole our beer. In said case, find my phone. I promise you there will be photos. THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE). 

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