Weeknotes: December 29, 2025–January 2, 2026
Monday, December 29 – Friday, January 2
Silver days and cozy nights. The illness that tugged at my throat just before Christmas reached its crescendo on Sunday, then persisted to a lesser degree through the new year. It ran parallel to a week of dazzling snowstorms, reminding me of childhood winters, sledding hills, and runny noses. I always seemed to have a cold during the holiday break. I even spent a night in my boyhood bedroom, house-sitting for my parents, re-examining my hometown, and hiking snowy segments of the Penosha Trail. I bushwacked my way to the reedy edge of Deidrich Lake, frozen over like I remembered it, though not enough for skating. The next morning I stood on the high ridge above Mt. Suicide, a classic thinking spot from my earnest teenage years.
New Year's Eve, stepping from the ambient glow of Andy's bar into the December hush to find the Frog Island pathway draped in a mat of virgin snow. That's how you start a new year — you make your mark on a blank page. My footprints mirrored the river then crossed over it at my favorite bridge. At home I hugged my pets and said good riddance to a year of tumult and chaos.
January 1st, a day of self admin and quiet resolve. A ceremonial fire to burn the Yule log along with last year's desk calendar. Nick joined me and set a bottle of mezcal to chill in the snow. We toasted the year ahead and talked about creative projects we want to pursue. Later, I sorted through an overstuffed file box of obsolete legal documents and life ephemera. Among the birthday cards, set lists, race bibs, and show programs I found an old portrait of my grandmother, Geraldine Ott, probably from her late teens. She's posed in an arched doorway wearing a white fur hat and a fetching Pendleton-style coat. It was so beautiful, I immediately put it in a frame and hung it on my wall.
Friday — my vacation time is waning. I said goodbye to my Christmas tree, ornaments, and decorations. I'll miss the cheery glow from the street where I was the only house to put up colored lights, but I'm ready for the pared-down simplicity of January. It's almost Aquarius season.