No, I mean that literally. My very kind friend William Little made me own little beer.
How awesome is that? It is delicious beer, too.
I've got this weird yin-yang duality going on in much of my life. I'm big and little, often carefree and easygoing, yet also philosophical and serious.
One way this bears out is that I take silliness seriously. I'm not afraid to look or act ridiculous sometimes. In fact, I often relish it. I love making people smile, laugh, or just suddenly see the world a little bit differently.
I'm an avatar of absurdity, in countless little ways. I have a collection of oddball socks I wear to work. I intentionally misunderstand awkward grammar for comic effect. I'm always on the lookout for puns and tricksy language.
Also, I sure do love funny hats.
Today I started wearing a new one which my sister in law, M. got me for Christmas. It's a Santa hat with a ridiculously long top tail.
Several people at the station and on the train this morning have smiled at me or even openly laughed at my awesome, completely ridiculous hat.
This one woman sitting across from me on the train even talked to me about it.
"That is a great hat," she said, smiling.
"Thanks," I said, "it's just right for this time of year."
She nodded, then clearly was thinking about what I'd said.
"Just imagine if you saw me with it in, say, June," I added.
She openly laughed now. "Yeah, you'll need a different one then."
I laughed too.
This morning I got up around 4:45 to take care of a few items on my to-do list before I got out of the house.
I'm habitually up around 5 anyhow, but today was working extra hard to get on my way early, so I could swim before work, at the gym near my house.
I was successful, too. Despite having to take time to put out the recycling, and then getting delayed at the gym because I briefly lost one of the end caps for my waterproof headphones, I got in a nice half hour swim. It felt great. I got to the gym before dawn, and left after sunrise.
I'll admit, when I first had the idea to do it I wasn't sure I could manage it.
That's where my gratitude comes from today. A while back I heard someone say that "don't" is a better paradigm for considering things than "can't." Can't is an absolute. Things you can't do, you could never, and will never do.
So, while I could (and frankly have previously) said, "I can't work out by the house in the morning, make my train, and go to work on time.", instead I had another option.
I can (and did) say "I don't typically work out at that gym in the morning, but maybe I can."
I even spoke in boldface type when I said it. That's some challenging shit.
It worked out just fine. I loved it, too. I plan to do it more.
I'm grateful I have a don't-can attitude as opposed to a can't-do one, sometimes.
I was having a conversation with a friend of mine this morning about therapy.
They LOVE it. Every time they go, it's like a mental spring cleaning. Doors and windows thrown WIDE OPEN. All sorts of thinky exploration and investigation.
Their partner on the other hand, doesn't feel the same way. They see a different therapist, for different issues. They loathe it. Each week, going to the session is an effort fraught with misery.
My friend feels some guilt over this. I told them, "It's not bad that you enjoy something which your partner dreads. Your positive experience does not negate or diminish the difficulty which they experience."
I finished by adding, "Comparison is nobody's friend."
That got me thinking. What do we gain when we resolve NOT to compare ourselves to others?
What is the inherent experience of comparing ourselves only to ourselves like?
For me, it means I can embrace gradual change. It's never too late to get a new skill, get in better shape, write a new book, make some sweeping life changes.
My life is a race, but only with myself. It's not the finish line that matters.
One day my race will be run. I'll do what countless multitudes have done before me, and will do after me:
I'll die.
But that doesn't matter. It's not the end of the story that matters to me. It's all the chapters before it.
So I've got this friend, S., also known as @ChickGoneBad on the Twitter.
We've been friends for years, having first met through mutual kink friends, and both being goers to Camp Crucible. (Although the last time I saw her face to face was literally years ago.)
Our friendship has really blossomed over Twitter. She's snarky, funny, occasionally spectacularly dirty, witty, and very, very clever.
She's also a few degrees off from everyone else on earth. What I mean is, she's the perennial outsider, or oddball. She is almost the detached observer of our social and societal foolishness.
Every once in a while she posts something, or links to something which is gob-smacking profound.
She did just that today. It's why she's my gratitude today.
The thing she posted is this:
http://www.renegademothering.com/2014/12/09/discovered-white/
It's an essay, written by a white woman, about how she realized she was white, and what that really meant. It's about how racism is alive and well today, and a subtle, pervasive part of society.
It's NOT a prescriptive entreaty to a shallow solution.
It's NOT just bitching and moaning, a complaint.
What it is, is a brilliant observation on the depth and complexity of the problem, and why so many people don't see it, don't get it.
I'm moved, profoundly moved by this essay.
If it wasn't for my friendship with Chickgonebad, if we weren't constantly trading snark, flirting, and kink humor, I wouldn't ever have known about it.
I'm grateful for it, and for her.