Full Steam for '08

Each day the feeling mounts that I'm gifted with a life at the pinnacle. Everything is so good, marvels and magics and each day imbued with fineness and silliness that makes all the quotidian of my life picaresque. Every thing's a tale in my existence. My incredible family and our city farm, the burgeoning career handed to me on platters with a gift that comes easily and it's all as if it were inscribed to be nascent. The glow of the lights that so rarely leaves me. And the overarching awareness that so many others have it so vile at this very moment on the face of the earth. The substance and consequence of hope and desire and compulsion and compassion and maturation and nurturing are the same, the sun rises, even through muck in the sky, and it feels like a new day - for all of us - but the possibilities are commensurately, exponentially, more flowering for me. And thus I try, with each of the wonderful new days, to be as reverent as I am gleeful. And I try to not steer from that glee as an act of reverence. Thus I am a faithful man, committed to the gift of my birth at this most amazing place and time. I do like gifts, and this's a good one.