We Canadians like nothing better than to complain about the weather, but this weekend, we had snow, freezing rain, rain, and fog after a gray week, so I think I’m just a bit entitled to grumble. This morning again, just like last Sunday morning, the damp fog closing in on our part of town transported me thirty years into the past and to a different continent. At this rate, I’ll probably be happier once real winter settles in with minus twenty degree centigrade temperatures – no rain, no fog and more chances of sunshine. Of course, after a few weeks of minus twenty, I’ll be complaining again.
In just over three weeks, it will be Christmas. Another year gone. Where it went, I couldn’t say. My brain tries to ignore the passing of time but my body feels it, even though I’m at the gym six days a week, exercising harder and more regularly than I did in my forties, or even my thirties. Being my own boss these days helps me get out there and pump iron instead of sitting in endless, futile meetings where, when all is said and done, much will have been said and precious little done. I don’t miss those days at all.
Hard Strike (Decker’s War Book 7) is in the home stretch. I’m at the 85% completion mark and intend to see it done by the end of the coming week.