And now, let us raise our soy hot chocolate to ladies w/ uncanny timing and boundless good hearts:

Last Wednesday, as I was out running errands, it was pouring rain and gunmetal gray both in and outside my head. When I arrived home, I discovered the most delightful early Christmas gift from my beloved friend, Jade: a fuchsia basket bursting with a panoply of chocolates from Dylan's Chocolate Bar, one of my favorite places in Manhattan and the known galaxy. And the thought behind the gift was the best part: she said she wanted to remind me of the sweetness in the world.

This morning as I was reading the front page New York Times story on the horrific execution of the four police officers outside of Tacoma, I received a text from my dear friend, Maria, saying she wasn't sure if I was awake yet but wanted to let me know she'd left a surprise for me downstairs by my building's front door and for me to retrieve it before it was absconded. I was already half-dressed (clad in shirt and bra but still in my pajama bottoms), so I threw on some jeans and headed for the elevator. And there by the main entrance was an enchanting bouquet of a type of lily, I believe (I'm not the world's most adept horticulturist), a Godiva chocolate bar, and heartfelt and witty card.

I realize I'm not as funny when I chronicle how grateful I am, but the fact remains I am grateful to so many for so much. As I wrote the other day, there will come a time I return to penis jokes and such. (Today's Facebook post: "Like Thomas Edison and his light bulb, whomever develops a sensor that detects free-floating particles of douchebaggery will steer human history permanently for the good.") And I can feel myself inching that way: humor gets you through this nearly as much as anything. In the meantime, though, I'd fail as a writer and as a person if I ignored the incredible kindness surrounding me through one of the two worst years of my life.

So how 'bout if I split the difference and write how fucking grateful I am? While I mostly still feel like I'm stumbling blindly about, hour by hour I'm figuring this out. (And look! I just inadvertently wrote a Sheryl Crow lyric.)