First thoughts…44 minutes in…

Ah yes, the “okay, now what” of 12:44 AM on the New Year. I’m not the guy in Times Square walking up to every pretty girl I see claiming I didn’t have anyone to kiss when the ball dropped. I’m not passed out in a Las Vegas gutter or a dude that walked outside his cabin in the deep frozen forest to fire .44 rounds at the moon. Nor have I been standing on the Stanislaus River shore, waiting with a prince nymph and my 5-weight fly rod for the exact second trout season started. I am back from the sports bar where I listened to a great cover band for the past three hours, a little too excited to sleep. It’s not frenetic action-induced excitement like when I was next to the Reflecting Pool in D.C. for 2000 (didn’t reunite with Jenny), or Vegas for 2004 (didn’t pass out in a gutter), but I’m fine with the quiet, sober calendar change. I can clear-headedly ponder resolutions, trout, salmon, camping; mom back home; brother, sister-in-law and nephew in Guam; and where I will be in a year. I can’t hope for too much more than to be sitting at this same table punching out words and thoughts clouded only by a bit of nostalgia and a longing for twelve more months of greater than or equal value. After all, how can I put a weight wish on a king salmon, halibut; a number on trout or days spent casting to them?
Life does it’s own thing, and I’m happy with that. So as it ticks toward 1AM, it is time to put 2011 to bed for good, and wake up the same dude as the previous year, with maybe a little more motivation that will hopefully last.

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