It's the day before Thanksgiving.  I just spent the day deep frying turkeys for a charity auction on a local radio station with the Sheriff of Snohomish County, John Lovick.  This is the sixth year he and I have done this -- usually he's been in the legislature but he left the legislature to run for Sheriff last year.  He is famous for his Cajun Spiced deep fried turkey, and I have to admit it is the BEST turkey I've ever had.  We do ten or so birds over the day and they auction them off on the air at KIRO radio.  You can watch the video (about 8 mins) and you'll see me working the fryer and ending up smelling like I worked at McDonalds all day. vimeo.com/2356101 . 

After I got home I realized I needed to go to the Credit Union to make a deposit, so I thought I'd hop on the bike and clear my head a bit.  It was a short but wonderful ride -- reminding me of the freedom  I feel on the bike as I took my little scenic loop home.  At the top of the hill I looked back and saw Mt. Rainier glowing in the sunset on a totally clear evening. 
Sunsets present a bit of a dichotomy of sorts.  They signify an "end", in this case the end of the day.  At the same time, they are almost always one of the most beautiful parts of the day.  How can something that symbolizes an "end" also be so beautiful at the same time?  After all, "ends" are generally not good things.   However, if one is truly to start something "new" one generally has to "end" whatever came before it.  Maybe in the beauty of the "end", in this case the sunset, we can find hope for the next beautiful thing along the way.  The next most beautiful thing to follow a sunset is of course a sunrise, and a sunrise, always indicates the start of something or at least or a rebirth of sorts and a new beginning.

As Tony pandabuff moved out this past weekend, I escaped Seattle and the pain of watching him go and went to visit my friend Garland garlandj  in Florida.  While I had a good time in Florida, I was mourning the sunset of my relationship, and wondering what the sunrise would bring.  It was very hard coming back home to a cold and now more empty house.  It doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel like home anymore.  I lay in bed last night contemplating whether to sell it or not.  I've not decided anything -- given the housing market and the economy maybe it doesn't make sense.  I'm dreading the holidays alone, and I'm not inclined to go back to Salt Lake alone.  I think I'll start looking at the map and hoping for clear weather and hitting the road south for a week on the bike.  I could end the year on the road one last time, clear my head, and get ready for what is likely to be a very long, very contentious, and very stressful legislative session.

But it will be a new beginning -- a new year, and maybe a better one.