365 Days of Jazz Hands - Day 346

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 12th 2013

Less than twenty days to go, it seems there are a lot of hands left unjazzed.  So little time until this adventure expires, the year all but dead.

I would like to acknowledge the now twelve-thousand strong individual site visitations and thank those that made the once incomprehensible number possible.  Thanks be to Pops, both young and old versions, zombie version, ghost version, time traveling homeless photographer version, alive or not version.  

Thanks be to Sunset McMullen and her stroller riding fur baby and although she never received a proper narrative, that platinum wig and sun visor has become an iconic staple of my ante meridiem commutes.  Thanks be to Keith and Becky whose memorials are somber reminders of inevitability.  

I would be remiss if I did not thank Winston Churchill for his kind act of genocide, signing the death warrant of thousands of his own countrymen, women and children to preserve the life of the state and its future well being, proving life to be a moralistic tug of war, no pun intended, and also providing fodder for these pages along the way.

The laws of unintended consequences too require a mention as a recurring theme this year, the writing of these pages proved above all else that consequence has very little to do with intent.

The sun the moon the stars the waves the waterfalls the storms the heat the cold, and well I suppose Mother Nature her bad cyclical self was a prominent feature and deserve a curtain call here.

Thanks be to Jack.  May you and your generous heart rest in peace, my friend.

Can you endure nineteen days of my saying goodbyes?

Thanks be to the blood takers the salt shakers and the workplace fakers.  You took, you shook and you acted your asses off.  

It's not at all unlikely that I will not last until day 365, so it's best that these credits are given where these credits are due while I may.  Thank yous are rosebuds and they must be distributed, or so they say.  They actually say that ye should gather rosebuds while ye may, but that didn't work as well for my purposes.

Thanks be to my red sweatshirts.  Both the primary one and the back up.  Everyone should have a back up favorite sweatshirt...one of those important lessons I learned early on in life.

Thanks be to my collection of resume coffee mugs, and especially to my new favorite travel mug that does not have evidence of work history upon its beautiful brushed stainless steel surface.

Thanks be to the crazy lady that really wanted to be included in one of my entries.  Little did she know that she had already been written about.  At one point I thought about dedicating an entire entry regarding her throwing up in my front yard and how I returned the favor in her front yard, but could not find that certain "big picture" message to tie the anecdote back to Jazz Hands.

Thanks be to good gin.

Thanks be to the Three Wise Men, for they are...well, you know...wise.

Thanks be to mascot creatures residing in dark lagoons that jazz their webbed hands.

Thanks be to forgotten subcultures of subcultures of cultures and their rituals and Blue Meanies and beach balls and rules regarding beach balls and running with boxes on their heads and rules regarding running with boxes on their heads.

Thanks be to cats and their nine lives and family dogs with their stargazing nighttime deployments.  

Thanks be to the wife for suggesting the daily hand jazzing resolution in the first place and to Kid A and Kid B for helping me view the world again for the very first time.  And for testing my patience.  After all, what is patience that is not tested?

Thanks be to the fall season and to Northerly Northlanders and campfires and sincere laughter shared by like minded souls.

Thanks be to the realization that peace exists even in the absence of absolute freedom.

Thanks be to ids, egos and superegos.  Thanks be to Coworker Mitch for providing opposition, for what is balance without opposition?  And thanks be to Robert Lochaven for providing a voice of reason.

Thanks be to cynicism, sarcasm, fundamental illnesses, run on sentences, similes, metaphors and clever escape plans.

Thanks be to scabs and bruises and long sleeve shirts.

Thanks be to me for these entries would not exist without me.  But mostly, thanks be to you for reading for humoring for punishing yourself on a somewhat regular basis by reading the words these jazzing hands have typed for the past three-hundred and forty-six days and counting.  For what are words without a reader or two?

Todays Jazz Hands are in recognition of all the above and then some.  I'm certain to have neglected a few thanks worthy items.  Today's Jazz Hands are glad there are a handful of days remaining to recall them.

Day three-hundred and forty-six complete.