2012
by Scott Hardie on January 1, 2013
What a great year. Kelly and I got engaged. Kelly gained permanent employment and health benefits. We made lots of new friends locally, especially Amanda, Evie, and Wes. We paid off our car. We bought a freezer and organized our home. I'm proud of going way above and beyond to follow the Atkins diet even if it didn't produce results. I launched Pirate Paradise and re-launched Thorough Movie Reviews, and had fun with lots of other things on this site too. I resumed watching movies frequently, something I missed from years past. If it wasn't for losing our cat, losing GooCon, and an ongoing deficiency of discipline regarding food and money, I'd say it was just about a perfect year. Here's hoping for more continued good fortune in 2013, to you and to us all.
Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
Thoughts from Barnes & Noble
- Aren't all of these books in the clearance aisles the same ones I saw while Christmas shopping? - Sarasota must be really obsessed with astrology, Barack Obama, pet psychology, and Eastern cooking. Or the whole country is. Go »Let the Bodies Hit the Floor
Damn it. After The Sims 2, I'm not ready for another glitch to ruin a game. Elder Scrolls IV has always been a little buggy, tending to lock up my Xbox when it gets too excited for instance. Go »In Love, in Tampa
Last night we took in a special show by Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman for Valentines Day. Kelly is a huge fan of both and I was happy to take her to see them. I did not start the evening as a Palmer fan, but I was one by the time it ended. Go »Sarasota
Aaron Weiss likes taking pictures with his spiffy new camera – go figure – and yesterday he captured this beautiful panoramic shot of part of downtown Sarasota. This is why I live here. [I compressed his version for filesize, which caused the pixelization in the sky.] Go »R.I.P. Mom
You were so still in your bed when I could finally sit down beside you, a few hours after the facility notified me that you had died. I hadn't seen you be that peaceful in years, your eyes not scanning the room for clues, your hands not turning over each object in front of you for endlessly repeated examination. I whispered to you the most urgent and most precious things I had to say, the secrets and atonements and wishes foremost on my mind. Go »
