I’ve been mulling over just what to write in this week’s post as it relates to Wandering West. To tell you the truth, I really thought about not writing a post at all. Who has time to read one of my posts this week anyway? It’s New Year’s, for Pete’s sake (Ethel’s too). There’s celebrating to do. All kinds of unhealthy snacks are within eye-catching and finger-snatching distance, just waiting–flirtatiously, I might add–to be devoured–one after another, and another, and. . . And there’s that brut, extra-dry champagne that always bubbles straight to that silly part of the brain, uncorked and standing there, dutifully at attention, awaiting your thirsty acknowledgment. There are football games to watch, for Pete’s if not Ethel’s sake–and probably yours too. Everywhere you turn, it seems, there is one distraction after another that takes you away from the absolutely, unequivocally necessary bliss of reading my post. I hear you. I really do. Celebrating takes precedence this time of year, Gary. You should know that. Celebration rules the day–not you. Well, I know. I do. And besides, I’ve been feeling more than a little lazy this entire week, as I always do seem to feel between Christmas and the new year. I’ve barely stumbled off the Boeing 747, crammed as it was, after a joyful yet busy Christmas with my family in Alexandria, Virginia. And I must admit, I’m still hacking to clear a ticklish throat and still sniffing through clogged nostrils, the remnants of a cold that I seemed to have contracted aboard the sardine-packed, germ-encapsuled–air-tight–airplane before inflicting this plague on the rest of my beloved family. This is before I mention the acidic ache in both my knees from too much trekking around the nation’s capital.
          Okay, okay. I know. You get my point already. I am well aware that you are now more than well aware that I’m not exactly motivated to write, any more than you–shamefully–may be lacking in motivation to read an uninspired piece of my blog. Oh, did I mention that it’s also cold and rainy outside, which lends itself to this state of inertia that has currently afflicted me? Okay, back to the real point here. All I really want to do is wish all my readers–past, current and, of course, future–a gloriously happy and fulfilling 2014. Not to put words in Jack Stiler’s mouth, but as Jack himself might put it, “I hope you wander splendidly, westwardly, toward a warm pastel of a shining sun with a gentle gulf breeze to cool you on your long and serendipitous way.”
          Happy New Year, everyone! And Godspeed.