This Month's Blog Donation
Michael Yon. Support citizen journalism. Especially when it's done with courage and steel. Not to mention better reporting than in any mainstream media outlet.
In other news: I am so wanting a slice of meatloaf for lunch today. Don't know why it's meatloaf but I can actually taste it as I sit here and type this. I may hold that off for dinner.

As Craig Ferguson Says
It's a great day for America everybody!
UPDATE: I was moved by Barack Hussein Obama (umm umm umm) calling Murtha a "Marine Corpse man."

This Whole World Is Magic!
I just ordered octopus from Amazon.com. It's sold tinned, not fresh of course, but still .... I can sit in a seat that's the equivalent in comfort of any in my house and drive through a pestering rain on the New Jersey Turnpike at 70 miles an hour in perfectly dry comfort. I can sit in a somewhat less comfortable seat in an airplane and thanks to the partial vacuum formed over the wings of the plane be pulled 30,000 feet into the sky where I'll travel at more than four times the speed I can drive anywhere in the world.
Yeah, there are problems in the world. We have a boob for a president and mental midget Islamists want to kill the infidel (Can you just kill the Fidel? We'll be OK with that.) But I can sit at my desk and order tinned octopus which will be delivered to my door. Sweet.

I Give Thanks In This World Too
Shortly I'll be posting a picture of the title page of my copy of Elmore Leonard's new book "Road Dogs" which I'm currently reading. Actually "devouring" would be a better term. The book has been reviewed by better critics than I and raved over, not to mention having a full four stars of Amazon reader reviews so I won't go into all the details though I will say everything you've ever heard about Leonard's writing is absolutely spot on: the story rockets off the pad on page one and the dialogue is crackling.
But the excellence of the book is not the point of the post. The point is to give a huge shout out to Advice Goddess Amy Alkon who was instrumental in my getting the book autographed. In fact the book link above goes to Amy's Amazon mall which is a very good way to order not just the book but other Amazonia as she gets a spiff in the process. I don't think it's quite right to go into all the process of how I ended up getting the signed book but it was through Amy and her man Gregg's good graces that I now have this wonderful thing (I am stupid crazy for autographed books as long as they're autographed to me). So I hereby publicly say that Amy is more than an Advice Goddess, she is a Manolo-esque Superfantastic Person. And I'll say the same about Gregg despite my direct interactions being solely with Amy. Thank you, thank you, thank you both.
Plus this also gives me a moment to say what a wonderful thing the internet is. It's through the blog and blogrolling that I first e-mailed Amy and she, despite her pressing schedule (she does way cool things - way cooler than the stuff I dither around with), has always been great about returning e-mails. It's fascinating. I got to know Jake Armerding by first hearing his music on a steaming online radio station. This wide whirl of a web has brought all sorts of wonderful things into my life and my gratitude for them, the music, the people, the friendships, the caring that I've experienced can not be properly expressed.
Keep an eye peeled in the next couple of days for the picture (yes, it will show my real first name) and one more deep bow in Amy's direction when that post is thumbtacked to the blogosphere. And hey! Amy has a book coming out in October. Buy it dang ye!

Grace And Gratitude
I turn out to have the shank of the afternoon to sit at the desk and ponder a bit on life and the infinitude we face in every day, the universe in a grain of sand as it has been put. My post below about Dave Shifflett's Karma Farmers' CD would strikes me as a jumping off point.
I have never met Dave but we've carried on a sporadic e-mail acquaintanceship since I called his attention to Glenn Reynolds' mention of the "Floor Creak" (see link in sidebar) CD on InstaPundit. Dave was nice enough to send me a copy of the disc and I have spent many entirely pleasurable hours listening to it since. Some time later I sent him a copy of Jake Armerding's self-titled CD as I am an evangelist for Jake's music and will be always unless he does something like publicly insult me (which he's too good a person to ever do, of course). I afterward touched base with Dave to see if he liked Jake's work (he did) whereupon he offered to send me, gratis, a copy of "Songs for Aging Cynics." I demurred saying I'd buy one from him (at a good price - I'm reasonably frugal). Which is how I came into the possession of the disc.

But what sticks in my mind is something I wrote to Dave in my note with the money for the music. I consider myself the recipient of undeserving grace for what happened to resolve, not for ever but certainly in a big way, many of the problems that were so deeply troubling to me in the last year. I blogged then about the depth of my depression and won't dive back into the deep end again. Part of what I feel about such a gift of grace is the obligation to do right by way of support music and musicians. It may not make entire sense but music matters to me. I can't (yet) make it but I feel the strong compulsion to not pirate it and to not take advantage of it when it comes my way. Not taking advantage includes putting at least a few bucks into the pot when I could take the music at no cost to me.
This, to me, is a kind of down payment on the grace I received. It is something I can do that is like unto what I got. I can tangibly express gratitude for the music that feeds my soul as I try to hold the gratitude to God in my soul. It is not a rational thing, I fully understand. But as much as the compulsion to maintain my gratefulness for the grace, I am compelled to maintain my gratefulness to those who make the music I love. I'd like to be the source of some unbidden grace as much as I'm the recipient of it.

Stuff Update
Today I peeled stickers off the new sheet pans and washed them. Does not one always wash kitchen apparatus when it comes into the house for the first time? It's not like there was a tag that said "Loving hand crafted for you by the lepers of the Molokai colony," but it seems common sensical to me. Now washing a pan is really not noteworthy save that I mentioned them earlier and now, having actively handled them I now have to say, these things even feel good. Smooth, beautifully machined, not heavy but substantial in one's hand. They exude the feel of sturdy. When Lycurgus inherits my worldly goods, I hope he keeps the sheet pans. They're good.
Also, took advantage of an Amazon "Gold Box" deal to get a battery-powered string trimmer. I have a really nice Black & Decker electric string trimmer but dealing with the cord is a real pain. Now, I'll be able to grab a non-bound-to-the-wall device and whack down the growth at a moment's notice. The fargin' homeowner's association should be pleased. Oh, the new one is another B&D device. They make good tools.

Gratitude?
I'm a bit unsure (witness the question mark above) if this post could be properly categorized under my "gratitude" tag. And it's a prime candidate for "navel-gazing" but I can't help but think that there's something about being grateful in here.
Some years ago I signed onto the National Marrow Donor Program. As in bone marrow. As in 'this might save someone's life who has leukemia.' Gave a blood sample and all that. And I've never been contacted. Of course it might be a blessing on my part to be sure that my contact info is up to date and that I haven't been bureaucratically misplaced. Because, yes, I do know that this is strange, I would really like to donate bone marrow. I understand that it's painful, a rather large bore needle is inserted into the pelvis and a good hunk of the tasty stuff (c'mon - you know you've sucked out the gelatinous goodness of a beef bone!) is extracted.
But the pain, to my mind, would be nothing compared to the idea that what I've grown, casually and incidentally, might just let another person live more years of quality life. I'd like to be that guy. I'd like to be the one who gives.

Having said that, I urge everyone who's willing to register for the registry. You could save someone's life by doing so. It's worth it. I'd be grateful for the chance to donate even if there might be a little glimmer of hubris in there somewhere.

Grace Notes
I suppose it's not fair to go into a situation about which I can't talk as it involves other people who are not party to this webby conversation but I am compelled to say that I got a revelatory e-mail from a very dear friend today. When we care about others, take them into our hearts unbidden as it were, we still don't necessarily understand much of those lives if we en-heart them later in life. Now I've been given much information about people I know and love and I find that it buoys me up. I had always seen the successes and the good life of these friends and now I learn of the other side of their life. It is encouraging to see what can be overcome and how much of life is still possible after deep troubles have laid their salt on the fertile land.
So why do I post this? Because I want to say that everyday allows us to do something better than the day before. As bad as things can be, better is still there. It may take a hell of a lot of work but it can happen. This month contains my natal anniversary. I'm getting old now. Past the point of being a child prodigy. But through all that I suffered (which I admitted here on the blog last year), I can make next May a brilliant diamond out of the lumps of coal that I'm sitting on now.
All from a long e-mail about others, a note of grace for which I'm thankful.

Good Customer Service
Part of my mission to be grateful in life as well as in belief is to recognize when a company or a person does the right thing. Today's winner in the appreciation sweepstakes is Amazon.com. I bought some digital downloads the other day (songs I did not have from a "best of" disc of an artist [Basia] whose work I have pretty comprehensively collected). Yet one of the songs gave me a "you've already downloaded this" message. I then set about to search all the digital nooks and crannies to see if the song went astray.
Nope. Nowhere to be found on the iMac (Source Of iTunes Central). So I e-mailed Amazon's customer service saying that I didn't get the download for which they'd charged me. That was yesterday. This morning's mail had a very nice note from an un-named customer service person (I almost said "drone" but then realized how unkind that would have been) who re-authorized the download for me.
Clickety clickety and I'm enjoying the song and thanking Amazon for good customer service. And telling you because gratitude demands acknowledgment.

I'd also, almost parenthetically here, call your attention to a product line at Bath & Body Works: Rainkissed Leaves. The name is a bit fruity but the scent is just amazing. Think of all the good things in freshly cut grass and the sweet edge of a cool morning where the dew chills the air as the sun rises. A friend of mine used the moisturizer in my car recently and I had to ask her what it was because I loved it. I've ordered some for my guest bathroom and powder room. So if you come for a visit, you'll be able to wash your hands and then moisturize them with a most remarkable fragrance. So, when are you going to be here?

Friends
I don't think there's any secret to friendship. Sometimes you share an interest in something with someone and you spend enough time together that rough edges are ignored and friendship grows. Then there are time you just fall into it. One of my very good friends is the relative of the wife of a couple whom I know quite well and from the moment I met said relative, I knew we would be great, great friends.
Then there times you have yourself a friend and he or she says, "You have to meet my very best/very good/long time friend!" Of course you agree because, well, it's your friend that's saying it. But you worry about it. What if I don't particularly care for this new variable in the friend equation? But, face it, you have to meet the person.
This past weekend one of my dearest friends introduced me to her best friend. I was somewhat worried as we'd each heard a lot about the other and one can't always live up to a mental image formed by one's very own PR person (the mutual friend). After saying all that, I have to say that I had one of those superior experiences where everything my friend said about her friend was borne out in spades. In clubs, diamonds and hearts for that matter. I hope the same can be said of me but let me tell you, there is a word for people like my new (ha!) friend: delightful. We live in different time zones so it's not like I'm going to be hanging out with them but I'm willing to bet that they'd be OK with me doing so. Not all the time of course. But a lot of the time, yeah.
It's a mitzvah. And I made it a point to be grateful in church on Sunday.

Saturday Morning
I watched the sun rise on this first day of spring, a harsh angular light on a delicate rime of frost. The world was sugar frosted as the light dawned and the shadows of buildings and trees stretched out like El Greco figures in monochrome against a landscape played out in aquatint.
As the colors filled out with the rising of the sun, I looked at the rimed grass and thought of such sweetened things as frosted flakes. But is the world a sweet thing to tempt the young with the roars of cartoon tigers? I can say neither no nor yes. Because there are other things that get their coat of sugar yet play against the sweet, the sour patch candies for example. Is the world in a sweet nanometric crust that surrenders to teeth revealing the grain formed into something entirely man-made? Or is it the sweet layer that flows out on the tongue before the acidic bite changes everything?
Both are delicious in their place. Both are insufficient metaphors for existence. Instead the world will offer some moment of zen calm - the translucent shroud of fine hoar on the grass and sidewalks, sunlight sliding across the ground with a magician's trick of misdirection. It is the first day of spring and the world says: "Look here. Here is the breath of winter still laid ever so lightly on this ground. Trust and believe what you will but I am knowable only in the largest ways. I will never surrender myself to you in any one moment. If you live in the knowing of that, you may see wisdom as obliquely as I lay the light on you. I will be that thing moving just at the very ragged edge of your eyes, that thing you can only believe you saw a moment before. But always there."

My gratefulness rises along with the warming of the sun. I will make myself a measure of coffee, fill my cup therewith, milk, artificial sweetener as fine and white as if I'd scraped the frost from the blades of grass. I dress warmly, step outside. Feel the cool water of the fresh spring air flow into me. Take a sip from my cup which releases steam in the most wonderful ghostly curls of vapor. I inhale the fragrance of the bean and feel its tiny acid bite on my tongue, an echo of the world entire. I thank God again for all of this. For cool spring air, the friends whom I love, the taste of coffee on a cool morning, the pinkish haze that fills the empty branches of trees preparing to bud out, even the cliche of daffodils clustered near the neighborhood doors. I think of the day, not long in the offing now, when the world warms and the scent of the earth itself finally rises from its hibernation. Then spring truly begins as all the poseur flowers, the daffs, the crocuses give way to the trees and plants that give us food, not just frosted candy for the eyes.
The Deck Farm will rise again this year. Possibility remains an almost endless giving box for the delighted.