The Annual Flaunting of Gratitude
[Listen to an audio version of this blog here.]
Did anyone else just wake up and realize that it's the end of 2021? I said that to a coworker the other day, "Can you believe it's already the end of 2021?" As if it really is shocking that time continues to roll forward, as it always has and always will. I was just making stupid small talk, which is a redundant phrase, anyway. Most small talk is stupid. Most talk is stupid. Yet here we are, talking anyway.
I've made it a tradition to compile a list of things I'm thankful for every year on Thanksgiving. Quite a novel idea, right? Anyway, here are some things I'm grateful for. This is not an exhaustive list, nor is it in any particular order.
Full moons. I like the half moons too, but the full ones are brighter and inspire a lot of weirdness.
Doctors and nurses and all the related people who do relevant things with and for our collective health.
My car, even though it screams "soccer mom," which I am not.
The idea of a charcuterie board.
Books, for knowledge and stories; escape and returning.
Coffee, for obvious reasons.
Family, for being minimally toxic and maximally supportive.
Friendship, because the company we keep is more important than anything.
Babies & old people. Cycle of life or whatever.
Tap water. I drink it, and so should you. Water snobs are super unwelcome here.
Safety. My neighborhood is so safe I almost miss being robbed.
A semi-intelligent brain. An average IQ can get you pretty far.
My body, for being strong and healthy and currently unbroken.
New people/places/things. Our eyes get tired of redundancy. I'm pretty sure it's biologic.
Bananas. They are, and forever will be, the best of the breakfast fruits.
Stars, when I can see them and when I can't.
Showers. Centuries ago, we all smelled bad and nobody cared.
General oral hygiene. See point 17.
Airplanes. In the night sky. Are like shooting stars.
The ability to never go back to Disneyland ever again.
The smell of gasoline.
24/7 diners, for the night owls and truck drivers and hitchhikers.
Mailboxes. I find them cute and sort of antiquated.
Really big tables.
Underground bunkers. They're only dumb until you need one.
When people dress up their pets.
Sunscreen. I am very Caucasian and the sun can be scary.
The interwebs, for keeping us connected.
Sunrises and sunsets.
Music of all kinds, in all places, with all people.
Museums and board games and puzzles and school.
Feet, not for kinky reasons but for practical ones.
Weddings and funerals; dresses and tuxedos; joy and sorrow; teeth and gums.
The way dead leaves smell.
Each and every one of YOU who reads this half-coherent bullshit. Ya'll are the coolest.
P.S. Watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, read An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States, or listen to Adam Sandler's Thanksgiving Song.