This morning marked a quiet return.

Back to the YMCA after a long holiday hiatus. Long enough that the habit had started to feel theoretical. Long enough that the bathing suit and sweats had been sitting in the corner of my closet like a polite but persistent reminder.

Walking through the doors again felt familiar and slightly humbling. The smell of chlorine drifting out from the pool. The low mechanical rhythm of treadmills in motion. The soft clank of weight stacks settling back into place. None of it had changed. Which, in a strange way, was reassuring.

The holidays have a way of bending routines. Meals get heavier. Evenings get longer. Motivation negotiates for more couch time. And while there is nothing wrong with rest, there is something steadying about returning to motion.

The first few movements felt honest. Muscles remembering what they are supposed to do. Lungs negotiating terms. No personal records were threatened today. That was not the point. The point was simply showing up again.

There is a particular kind of victory in resuming something good after letting it drift. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just a quiet re-alignment. A small promise renewed.

By the time I walked back out into the daylight, there was that familiar post-workout clarity. Not euphoria. Just a sense that the gears had been re-engaged.

Routines wait for us. Sometimes patiently. And today, I went back to meet one of mine.

Today turns a page.

The Year of the Fire Horse arrives with a kind of restless energy. Horse years are said to carry motion, independence, forward momentum. Add fire to that, and it feels less like a quiet candle and more like a forge. Heat that shapes. Heat that transforms.

There is something fitting about that thought. A horse does not idle for long. It moves. It tests fences. It runs because running is what it was built to do. Fire does not apologize for being bright. It simply burns.

I like the symbolism of beginning again under that banner. Not a timid start. Not a cautious shuffle into the months ahead. But a year that invites courage. Initiative. Maybe even a little boldness.

The lunar new year always feels different from January 1. Less about resolutions and more about rhythm. Cycles. A reminder that time does not just march forward in straight lines. It circles back, renews itself, offers another chance to step differently into familiar terrain.

So here is to the Fire Horse. To motion after stillness. To warmth in cold places. To the quiet decision to run toward what matters.

May this year carry strength without recklessness, passion without burnout, and forward motion without losing sight of where we started.

#doodle #lunarnewyear2026 #yearofthefirehorse

Nice palindrome,  if nothing else.

Day 20,834, seed 570014142729

Today moved quietly.

Not in a sleepy way. Just steady. Like it knew exactly how much it needed to be and refused to be any more than that.

Somewhere along the way, the calendar and the clock quietly noted a small personal milestone: passing the 500,005th hour. No fanfare, no fireworks, just another tick forward in the long, ongoing accumulation of days, which somehow made it feel even more meaningful.

The morning light came in soft and undecided, the kind that does not commit to drama. No grand sunrise performance. Just a gradual brightening of corners. Coffee tasted like coffee. Floors creaked in familiar places. The small rituals held their shape.

Later on, the grill came to life and the in-laws stopped by, the backyard filling with that familiar mixture of conversation, laughter, and the steady sound of food cooking over open heat. Veggie burgers made their way onto plates, simple and good, the kind of meal that works best when nobody is in a hurry and everyone stays just a little longer than planned.

Outside, the air had that in-between feeling. Not quite winter, not quite spring. The trees stood patient. The birds seemed to be negotiating something among themselves. Even the wind felt measured, as if it had agreed not to make a scene.

Nothing dramatic happened. No sudden revelations. No plot twists.

And that was the gift of it.

Some days arrive like a thunderclap. Others just sit down beside you and keep you company. Today was the second kind. The kind that asks nothing more than attention. Sometimes that is enough.

Web drawing now has wind and a few color mods

https://svonberg.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/02/webs2.html

I messaged myself someone else’s Epstein story and IG put me on restriction. I can still post and even share stories, but I’m not allowed to message! Yeah, *I’M* the problem! So if you messaged me, I can’t respond for 3 days. Thanks IG for protecting PDFs!

Guess what’s coming?

#doodle #fridaythe13th #thursdaythe12thisthenewfridaythe13th #thursdaythe12th

Kitty is new to me, not sure which of the venison brood came by

There’s a specific kind of internal hum that starts the moment you hit “Checkout” on a piece of niche tech. It’s been a minute since I’ve been this genuinely keyed up for a mail call, but the wait for the x4 has me checking tracking tabs like it’s a competitive sport.

To keep my sanity, I did what any self-respecting nerd does: I opened a spreadsheet.

Putting the wait into perspective helps dampen the “where is it?” anxiety. My device left Shenzhen nine days ago. Since then, it’s been navigating a gauntlet of weather patterns, logistics hubs, and handoff hops.

Here is the breakdown of its 7,842-mile trek:

* Distance Covered: 7,105 miles (roughly 90% of the trip).
* Average Speed: A steady 36 mph.
* Touchpoints: 8 distinct scans across the globe.

It’s currently cleared the customs hurdle, and with the bulk of the journey in the rearview mirror, I’m optimistic for a delivery before the 14th.

Some people have that “buy it and forget it” zen mindset. I am not those people. I can’t just let it arrive “whenever.” To bridge the gap, I’ve been curate-stacking my digital environment:

* Customizing the Vibe: Designing a fresh set of wallpapers.
* Community Building: Getting the account settled over at readme.club.
* The Library: Hoarding choice EPUB files like a digital dragon.

I’m also diving back into Calibre. I haven’t touched the software in nearly a decade, but seeing that it’s still the gold standard for library management is a testament to its staying power. Getting a Calibre server spun up is next on the weekend warrior list.

The SD card is “ready-ish,” and the Android apps are already staged on my phone and tablet. Software-wise, I’m leaning toward Crosspoint. If I can swing a multi-boot setup to test the waters of every OS flavor available, that’s the dream.

An afternoon hike along the Appalachian Trail, running roughly parallel to the Blue Ridge Parkway in Botetourt, was timed just before the snowfall so the snow showers could be seen as they arrived. A brief stop at Purgatory Overlook offered this captured view, one that never loses its appeal no matter the season.

https://svonberg.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/12/hero6eSupersV40.html

Woolgathering: What most people call their “self” is, for the most part, a bundle of different moods, impulses, and roles fighting for control. “I decided” usually means “one impulse temporarily won.”

If this sounds preposterous, spend some time in honest “self-observation”. I’m betting you find a constellation of “selves” rather a self.

The “self” you experience when hearing a nostalgic song, for example, can be very different from the “self” that you experience after stubbing your toe or getting cut off in traffic. Often dramatically different.

In the episode “Troubled Waters,” the good Lieutenant seems to pass some gas, and it can clearly be heard. After Columbo first examines the crime scene, he heads to the doctor’s office to get help for his seasickness. Just as he reaches the top of the steps, just before he reaches the doctor’s door, you can clearly hear two farts. He even sighs after the first one. Now, I thought it might have been the floor creaking or the ship settling, but that particular sound is never heard again in the episode. So, say what you will, but I’m convinced it’s a fart, and the sound guy missed it… or perhaps they left it in. After all, he was experiencing problems with his tummy.