Sing to me Old Blue Eyes

When I rolled into South Florida to help a friend, I could not have imagined the magnitude of what I was stepping into. Let me be clear, 2023 is a kick-in-the-ass odd numbered year already.

My friend’s house needed serious attention, and with injuries that just won’t quit, he was committed to performing at three events, as well as renovating an empty condo he needs to sell.  So, for the past two months, I’ve been a sander, a painter, a cleaner, an installer, a hauler, a secretary, a motivator, an organizer, a cook, a DJ roadie, and quite a few times, a nag. That’s life? 
​
Perhaps, but not all of it. While cycling is difficult in this concrete jungle, I did sustain my minimum weekly miles. Pedal -- but never let your guard down. I also did a bit of writing and editing as two clients reconnected; so incoming moolah is starting up again. Good timing as my dear Element, also known as home, has taken a bad turn. A few sensor fixes and too many dollars later, I’m now sitting on the edge of my seat as a used part arrives tomorrow that must be the solution. 

​                                                       Just what makes that little old ant
                                                      Think (s)he'll move that rubber tree plant
                                                      Anyone knows an ant, can't
                                                     Move a rubber tree plant

​                                                    But (s)he's got high hopes, (s)he's got high hopes
                                                   (S)he's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes*

To say that I’m exhausted is an understatement, but okay February, bring it on slowly. My itinerary has me back in my tent this weekend and out of the Sunshine State by month’s end. I’m so ready to be back in my element. 

​*Van Heusen, Jimmy and Cahn, Sammy, "High Hopes" (1959). Vocal Popular Sheet Music Collection. Score 2890.