zenexistence

This is a ridiculously good beer.

And it's 9%. Niiiiiiiiine percent. It's a delicious nine percent, though, not one of those, "Ohmigod, I just drank turpentine and turtle turds" nine percent.

Speaking of nine percent, it feels like that's about the percentage of my life's potential that I'm living up to right now. I seem to be in a constant holding pattern yet I don't really know what I'm holding for.
There's a good chance it's simply due to being comfortable with my place in life here; I know a ton of people, I have a ton of contacts, I have a huge network.
But even with all those positives, I hate where I live.
I hate Florida.
I hate its lack of seasons.
I hate that we never have snow.
I hate humidity.
I hate a lack of topography.
I hate it being 80-degrees in December.
I hate that none of the houses have cellars.
I hate that I have to wait until January to wear layers.
I hate that I don't have sow boots (I meant to type "snow boots" but I'm leaving sow boots because it made me laugh).
I hate that I can't sled/ski/snowboard.

I feel a move coming soon, I just haven't decided on where yet. I have no kids or significant other to uproot, so this will make the transition easier. I do have Bones, but he's pretty agreeable with wherever as long as I feed him. See?



I think it's time to take a few trips, maybe even one before Christmas to see and experience prospective places of relocation.

Has to have bike polo, though -- first and foremost. And snow. Not tons o' snow but some snow at least.

And monkeys, always has to have monkeys.