The news these days is really fucking shit, isn’t it? I can hardly bear to think about it, much less write about it (although, if you haven’t yet, you should read the remarkable article about Specialist Sabrina Harman and Abu Ghraib by Philip Gourevitch and Errol Morris – and wonder for a moment about just how lucky we are to have such remarkable journalists as the two of them writing this stuff).
But, in the midst of the horror and the tragedy, one of my favorite and most simple pleasures is returning today: it is opening day for the major league baseball season, and among my favorite things is to read the previous day’s box scores over breakfast. It doesn’t matter if my team (the Baltimore Orioles) are winning or losing, which is good because they are gonna suck elephant balls this year; I can’t even describe what it is that I so love about it. But it is one of the small and true joys of my life, and I’m glad to have it back.
So today, I’m going to try to start this week thinking on the simple joys, the things we all rely upon, that add happiness to our lives without our being able to entirely explain why. The Sexy red velvet cupcakes, the brioche french toast, and Wicked hot chocolate. The greatest sandwich in the world (Pastrami on club bread, extra lean).
And to be thankful that I am so very fortunate to live in a world with so many wonderful things.
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…have a great week everyone.
has figured out how to take a nap under my chin while leaving both of my hands free to type on the laptop. occasionally she wants more attention and so i stop and snuggle and tell her stories.
the other day i told her about the Dalai Lama’s cat. how stately and calm and peaceful the DL’s cat was, and how she had a little silk hat that she wore only for official portraits, and little silk booties for her feet. my kitty was purring, she loves stories, she doesn’t take anything too literal.
but it cracked me up, because i suddenly realized why old woman knit booties and hats for their cats.
moral of the story: think twice before learning to knit.
this Monday morning.
I woke up in a dense state of depression and your little essay is nudging me in the right direction–hope the good possibility grown.
luckily the Twins still have a dome because we are in the midst of a winter snow storm – supposed to get maybe 5 inches of snow. Guess I’ll have to look somewhere other than the weather for my little corner of gratitude. But I actually think there’s lots to choose from. How about this?
Your last sentence reminds me of the key line in Slaughterhouse Five.
Me, I’m just enjoying the fact that it’s a humid spring day, and though it’s still chilly out you can feel the impending warmth. And I just had an excellent cup of lobster bisque in a local coffee shop, and I’m deliberately savoring my early afternoon instead of working.
…I’d be thankful too…though I always liked the thin sliced at the old 2nd Ave better than the thick sliced @ Katz’s…goddess I miss the city.
Lovely day here in Seattle, though.
are lovely
this morning… going into the woods
drizzling sleet
pelting leaves
walking over fallen trees
finding a modern easter island
with rows of old oil drums
lined like ancient columns left
by ancient people
and finally, some of these soldiers
guarding the forest line,
give way to time and weather
rust eating away exteriors
and contents of concrete and rocks
spilling out
creating little moss-covered landscapes
there are pools of water
and a small creek
generations of leaves waiting to become
the next layer of dirt in a civilization
still unknown
adult evergreens there, with a slight blue cast,
have cute baby firs under-trunk
and the nursery floor is blanketed
in rust-colored pine needles
i am amazed by this place
a small thing
a small precious wild place…