In our bit of the world it is Thanksgiving as it ought to be – save the 70 degree temperatures. The trees are orange and yellow and… brown. The leaves are falling. All the kids are under our roof and running and playing and squealing. There is a dead organic, free-range, tofu-eating (ate), former yoga-practicing, self-actualized, anti-global warming, pro-vegetarian turkey in our fridge. There are pounds of apples (granny smith, of course) to be pealed for a pie. There are slices of bread strewn randomly across the kitchen to dry (for the stuffing)(Yes, I could stick them in the oven but this is what my mom does). We have some friends coming over later (though we don’t actually know how many). All is well.
And on this day I am going to try and think non-stop about only one thing – giving thanks. I’m not going to be concerned about anything. I’m not going to be disappointed by anything. I’m not going to be ticked about anything. I’m going to be thankful…
…that my daughters all piled on my chair to hug me and my son and I are going to be playing football together (in about five years) and Kim hasn’t fired me as her husband and Sam is the sweetest Newfie and I am alive and we have this community – fellowship.
I am thankful for this blog. I had no idea what a blog was a year ago when this started. I’d never visited one. Someone just suggested it. Over the last year I have come to know so many of you as friends and I am so thankful for each of you. That sounds cliched (as does this) but it happens to be true (also cliche).