Captain's log, Stardate...

Got both feet in the stirrups now. But trying to hold this glass of Macallan and these reigns might prove difficult. Ah what the hell, every cowboy has fallen off of his horse at some time or another.

I thought I would catch you up on the goings on in the land of Neverwinter. We had a fine Christmas day. No snow of course, but the temperature did drop to a frigid 65 with moderate rainfall. That's right, you northerners aren't the only ones who have to deal with elements. Why, if it got any lower, I would have had to put on a jacket!

We spent most of Christmas eve and Christmas day with family. Try as I might, I have not been able to convince them all to meet in one place and celebrate together. One day I will figure it out. In the mean time, I will continue to visit two to three houses a holiday, and eat at each one like it was my first meal. What's that? Glutton, you say? Pfaw...that is just southern hospitality. You can't go to someone's house and not eat heartily of the spread they put out for you and your kin. You are liable to get a dirty flyswatter in the forehead should you try such a poor excuse as “I already et” to explain away why you can only eat just one helping of this or that. At least that is what I keep saying to the friends who point out the new five pounds of gut Santa left me for Christmas.

Along with the new weight, I also received more gifts than I deserve and more than some of my family can afford to give. Dad gave me an antler handled folder with wood inlays. She is a beauty and will be in my pocket on those occasions that call for me to pull off the Levis and throw on a pair of slacks. See you uppity women, men can coordinate their apparel at times. I also got a lined denim jacket that will more than suffice our (and I say it with a straight face) Florida winters. My mother-in-law surprised me with a liter of Macallan 12, which I am drinking right now, in her honor; yours too.

I was only partially joking about the weight. I stepped on a scale yesterday and I swear it cursed me out in Chinaman. I have hit the 240lb mark and while not the highest I have ever been, certainly above where I need to be. I am lucky enough to have 75 inches to spread it out over but it still puts me in the “fat bastard” category in my book. Being a firm believer that New Year's resolutions are for procrastinators, I have put down the nicotine and super sized portions as of yesterday, December 27th. After all, if I can't do it now, there is no magic number on the calendar that is going to guarantee success. Cutting back on meals isn't the hard part; it's the quitting smoking/dipping that is my Grendel.

To be more specific, it is maintaining the control necessary to not throttle the bag-boy at the grocery store who thinks it perfectly acceptable to bag a gallon of milk on top of a loaf of bread and then look at me like I am daft when I point out to him, testily, that it isn't. Driving anywhere has sent me into near apoplectic fits. I can't even turn on any of the cable news networks.

No one to blame but me for this state of affairs, but I am done with it. I will put this demon to rest; it's past due. But I don't think it is going to be pretty.

I need to go and find some tree bark to chew on.

Rant to you soon.