This isn't an end. How could it be? I'm still here. But it's been two years since I've blogged, so it feels right, in a way, to close the book on this chapter of sorts. Or is it close the chapter on this book? My Semicolon goes on, but it seems unreasonable to do so in this form.
If I HAVE to summarize the past two years, it would be thusly:
2021
More of the Pandemic Same, until summer's extended-family cruise in Alaska, which proved a perfect blend of Quality Time and physical challenges, climbing in and out of dinghies and hiking in the rain.
2022
Other kinds of challenges, between leaving one job (well, it left me) and starting a new one, and riding a total of 20K on my trike in various events, something I would never even have imagined doing pre-stroke. I lost a friend but made better ones. Same goes for the job. It actually feels like I'm serving a purpose for people w/disabilities now.
So it feels right to "end" here. I don't know if/who is checking this blog anymore or if an email will even go out when I post this. Excitedly, I'm writing this entry on a tablet called a MobiScribe, because I write faster than I type.====================
Most remarkably, it can read my scrawl, mostly.
So I'll close with a guilty pleasure lyric from a guilty pleasure song -- Semi-sonic's 1998 hit, Closing Time:
"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
What else needs saying really?