There’s no more painful treatment for a hangover quite like a hike up an iced over hillside with a stiff wind to the face.

Sure, some swear by orange juice and aspirin, water and ice packs, or a taste of whatever inflicted the mortal wounds the previous night. I prefer a long bout of physical exertion. The more excruciating the better.

After sampling every hangover “cure”, at the advanced age of thirty one, I’ve accepted the following reality: there are none, only the the choice to drink excessively or not. Ah, such problems.

On other fronts – the bookstore exceeded expectations – particularly for the first week. Orders arrived on every business day, with a nice, nice bump on the weekend. All I can say is sweet. Buddhapuss may earn a slice of sushi pizza by New Years.

The only thing I’m not happy about is the amount of writing. Very slow movement there, not sure why. Perhaps this week the answer will reveal itself.