“Any writer worth his salt writes to please himself. … It’s a self-exploratory operation that is endless. An exorcism of not necessarily his demon, but of his divine discontent.”  ~ Harper Lee

First off, thank you to that reader who emailed me last night to tell me he can snap his fingers. (This, in response, to my heartfelt admission yesterday.) I exorcise my divine discontent … and for this, you taunt?  Truly? Truly?

So, what’s new in divine discontent today?

This.

I’m not sure that it’s ok to unleash fireworks at midnight on New Year’s Eve/Day.  I mean, sure, set off some whistling Moonshine Bottle Rockets, Blazing Rebel Fountains with all the pretty colors, a few of those nameless ashy, snakey things. Prairie Fire cones, Nuclear Sunrise candles. Go ahead. Sparklers? Sparkle your pants off.

No, I’m talking armaments. That sound like – or could possibly have actually been – cannon fire.

I went to bed before midnight because I taught Yoga this morning.

But, I awoke at midnight to the sound of shelling. Wait, what? Grant’s marching toward Richmond again?

The booming, wall-rattling shelling was coming from our neighbor’s house, about a quarter-mile and one full cow pasture away.

Is that really necessary?

Are you trying to kill the old year … or the new one?

So, when I got up at 6:00 a.m. today, I suggested that I might go outside and lay on my car horn to greet my new year and wake the neighbors.

Editor/Husband suggested that I not do this: “They have a cannon.”

Editor/Husband would like to share this cannon joke with you. Click here. 

(He tried to tell it to me at midnight, but I just wanted to go back to sleep.)

Let’s start the year …

First up, baseball.

Yesterday, I exorcised my baseball discontent … giving the Baltimore Orioles’ owner some chin music for being a cheapskate, skinflint, and tightwad (these all mean different things, by the way, and he is all of them).

But, let me begin 2014 on a positive note.

I love the Orioles annual pet calendar. Proceeds support BARCS, Baltimore’s animal shelter, and animal welfare organizations are dear to my heart.

But, here’s the thing. To produce the calendar means that the Orioles must do the photo shoots and get everything to press well in advance. (Spoiler alert: teams can change, BARCS calendars cannot.)

The result is a beautiful calendar of Orioles posing in last year’s summer sun with handsome rescue dogs and bushels of adorable kitties.  (It’s clear the low-ranking rookies often end up with the kittens … don’t think Stevie and I haven’t noticed.)

I opened up the 2014 calendar today, and look at Mr. January and Mr. January!

Oh.

It’s the newest Washington National Nate McLouth.

(In 2013, pitcher Jake Arrieta was traded to the Cubs just as his month as Mr. July was beginning. Jim Johnson – see, I told you I’m not done with this – had just completed his Mr. November reign when he was traded to the A’s on December 2.)

Stevie is not happy about the Jim Johnson trade either … or the lack of calendar cats.

In previous calendars, most players enjoyed their own month. This year, there seems to be more two-players-to-a-month sharing. The size of the team hasn’t changed, so maybe the Orioles are now thinking, “Yikes, let’s just stuff a few players on the page and hope that at least one of them is still around come next year.”

But, back to being positive.

I love my Orioles calendar. (But, boy, I’ll miss Nate. And, Jim.)

Just 44 days until pitchers and catchers report.

Next up, Yoga.

I taught Yoga this morning. It was great!

And, finally, Life.

Have a great 2014.

(See, wrapped them all up again.)

Divine Discontent can have the rest of New Year’s Day off!

Lamar says “hey.”