As always, the excesses of Thanksgiving come through for me. I ate about six hours ago and intend never to eat again. I love cornbread dressing, maybe for the infrequency of its appearance. We have pretty much a standard meal, except for the cranberry chutney we have instead of that jellied stuff.
We have many occasions for gratitude: We stand upright and cast a shadow on days the sun shines. We have plenty of food and digest it well. There's a charming little girl churning around the house, throwing off giggles and glee. Nothing purer than the laughter of a little kid – no hip PoMo irony, no sarcasm – just unadulterated pleasure and delight in the present, emotions we olders catch only occasionally and for brief moments. We might oughta study toddlers for lessons in spontaneity.
On pleasure and delight, go here and find the magic of Israel Kamakawiwoʻole, a voice so clean it will make you all teary. Can't embed, that's disabled. Poor Bruddah Iz did himself in with Spam and excess, I believe, and it's a loss for all.
And go here a raft of reasons that vodka is 80 proof. It's fun.
Mad Mike, the Pirate King, is back in our part of the world and has bought himself a motorcycle. Sixty-year-old bones knit slowly, but he knows that.
I hope everyone in the republic had as good a day as we did.