Milk and Honey, Monday Blues -- and looking ahead.

Two years ago today I was in Israel. It was a life changing experience that I’m grateful for. As it goes, I touched down in the midst of the Gaza War. I’m thankful for the opportunity to learn about the conflict while it was unfolding. Even with a war happening merely miles away, I was content. It was a trip of bonding, of trust, of being vulnerable in a different place. I met remarkable people. We brewed up a collective gumbo that left lasting impressions and lasting smiles. The images still play in my head. I can still hear the echoes.

Hangin' over Jerusalem

Oh man, today. It was one of those Monday’s; one where you wake up 20 minutes before your alarm and debate whether to close your eyes again. It’s an uncomfortable thought in the most comfortable of places. It sets the tone for the week, at least for me. Trying to get through this week is a daunting task because there’s much on the horizon. I am relying on spin and yoga to tide me over, but it’s all about the weekend.

On Saturday, my best friend is celebrating his 24^th birthday at Foxwoods so we’re all headed there for smoky lounges, grossly expensive drinks and reckless attempts at making money. It will probably get sloppy rather quickly. I am not big on the gambling scene and rarely even dabble. The birthday boy, though, is quite the shark and I’ll gladly offer moral support as he fulfills his resolutions on the felt. Sunday brings us the third installment -- and rubber match -- of Patriots-Jets. It’s truly the Divisional round and as a fan, you couldn’t ask for more. We Bostonians are accustomed to winning and I can't see the Patriots losing this one. Only a major hiccup would allow such a disaster. It’s Super Bowl or bust around these parts. 

Maybe Mother Nature will throw a bone. Four more days.