Wednesday, November 23, 2011
What I’m Thankful For
I’m thankful that I have to actually worry because I get too much to eat.
I’m thankful that I have heat and electricity (especially in light of Connecticut’s recent outage)
I’m thankful that my friends are healthy. (Yes, even YOU Steven. He said that you’re doing BETTER than expected, not AS WELL as can be expected).
www.Journalfromtheplagueyear.blogspot.com and you’ll understand.
I’m happy that I’ve lived long enough to say, “---BECAUSE I SAID SO!” to my children.
By the way, I swore I never would say that.
I’m thankful that I now understand the “Mother’s Curse” (I hope you have a child who is JUST LIKE YOU!).
I’m happy that I lived long enough to learn it. And to say to my Mother, “I’m sorry because I was a royal PIA as a kid”.
I am thankful that my children are quirky and funny and smart.
When Tom was five, he was sitting on the toilet and I was getting dressed. I swear this is not edited.
“Mom, You know how I’m a ‘science kind of guy?’”(He was FIVE!!!)
“Well, I’m not sure if I can believe in God.”
“Well, there’s no proof. I believe in Santa because there’s PROOF, but there’s no proof that God exists.”
(I had to run into my bedroom to keep him from seeing me crack up laughing).
I’m thankful that my husband is the kindest, most thoughtful guy I’ve ever met. He does housework, cooks, cleans, and is a fabulous father to our kids. I cannot and never will complain about him to my friends. I’m so lucky it’s ridiculous. That said, He needs a haircut.
I’m thankful that my cat, Fuzzbutt, has lived to the ripe old age of 20. When I say ripe, I mean it. Old cats don’t groom themselves very well.
I’m thankful that I have a hobby. Life would be so boring without some obsession to distract me. Quilting is a great hobby because you leave behind a piece of you for others to keep themselves warm after you’re dead and buried! People will remember me and say stuff like, “Oh, there’s the quilt that Michele made for us. Too bad she’s dead.”
Mostly, I’m glad to have two days alone. No one to cook for, no one to clean up after. No one to put to bed. No one else’s laundry to do. I don’t have to say, “Hey, I’m in here!” while I’m showering. (13 year old boys love to barge in and pee while you’re showering. What is that anyway?)