
Another year has come and passed, and I’m still here. It was 365 days of epic highs and not as many lows as I’d expected. I spent something like three months in a tent and sleeping bag, wore only two pairs of pants for the better part of the summer, and had four pairs of socks choose from. I won’t get into the boxer situation.
I drove across the country when gas prices were ridiculously high, crossed 20,000 kilometres to drink cheap beer in a strip club in St. John’s, Newfoundland. And I didn’t even have the cash to spring for a private dance with a blond beauty.
I hiked to new summits, saw some beautiful places and experienced the generosity of strangers across this giant country. I slept on a ferry chugging through the choppy Atlantic, attempted to learn to ride a dirt bike in rural Alberta, went fishing with biker dudes on Vancouver Island, and drove a 10-foot tall crop sprayer on a farm outside of Estavan, Saskatchewan.
My best friend got married, and I got talked into a suit to make a toast.
I met a handful of beautiful women. Asked one out. Got rejected. Typical. Maybe 2009 will bring more luck.
I drank lots of beers, tasted new scotches, and if memory serves, managed to not puke once in the twelve months that just passed.
I would say it was a year with much laughter and very little tears. It was great. But why do I still feel like crap at the end?
That’s right. I came back from a six-month sabbatical to an economic meltdown and tens of thousands are losing their jobs and retirement savings. It took less than two months for our nation to find out that Stephan Harper’s second minority government couldn’t govern. Yet, based on popular theory there is no one else capable of leading the nation.
Personally, if a large fraction of us were keen on letting a cold-eyed, dork in a sweater have the keys to the Ferrari, I don’t think we would’ve done all that bad with a waspish poindexter behind the wheel. But we’ll never know thanks to a pooping puffin.
But there is hope. After all, there’s another 365 days coming up.
Closer to home, while thousands of media workers have lost their jobs in Canada, and many many more in the States, so far, most of my journalist friends and myself have survived the cuts.
For that, I’m thankful.
I’m also thankful for my family and friends who are around to spend the holidays with. I’m thankful for the memories and adventures that the past year has yielded.
Thanks, and have a happy new year to all.
(Should’ve been posted a week ago, but been busy)