Thanks

So what if I fall into the trap of writing lists of those things for which I am thankful? It's Thanksgiving! When my kids were small, I always asked them to tell me and their dad the things that made them thankful. We did this while all sitting at the dinner table with once-a-year champagne and Weber-grilled (charcoal, of course) turkey. My favorite answer from my 9-year old son was: "I am thankful that I got to see Green Day". My daughter was a bit more worldly and often said things like: "I am thankful that the polar bears still have ice to live on.".

My list this year? Not very worldly, probably not complete, and not in any particular order. But for each and all, in different ways, I am thankful.

My kids, my doggie, jezebel.com, my down blanket, Mr. Burch, the rubber frisbee that I throw to Charlotte 247 times a day, 1st-class international KLM seats with Xanax and a hand to hold, the stone bungalow at 100 Buchanan, The New Yorker, trust, my girlfriends in Michigan & New York & Charleston, my sisters and mother, my health, my NOLA pals, Ingles Grocery Store, sourdough Melba toast, my 1980's Canon camera, my 1940's all-metal sewing machine, my Kut blue jeans, Reggie the Handyman, kilts, my Toyota Tacoma, my former mother-in-law, Bojangles biscuits, Black Beauty electric Epiphone, Asheville Tourists and my neighbors.

100 %

What is it that makes me feel 100% of myself? Is it when I am around my family? or completely alone? with one friend or many friends? making love or just playing a part in a fantasy? walking through a white-birch Michigan forest? sitting in a Baptist church? when the moon is full and orange? when I think I'm maybe in love? When my heart has been broken into a thousand bits? on the noisy street downtown? When I realize the truth? When the rain is pelting on the roof or the snow is settling quietly on the streets? at a loud concert with dancing co-horts? When a loved one has died or is very ill? while staring at the stars? when standing in a cornfield? in front of a dancing campfire or blind in the darkness of the moonless night? driving on a gravel or a tarvy road with hundreds of miles in front of me? In the ear-popping mountains or the horizontal flatlands? With an acoustic guitar singing in front of hundreds of people or just one person? or singing by myself? Talking to the bathroom mirror? or to one stranger at the local grocery store? Walking my big black dog? smelling sawdust? breathing in cool Fall and Winter temperatures? Or typing on my computer? Or sitting on my front porch or back patio? When I am talking with my grown-up children or Northern sisters or mother?

All of these. At one time or another.