A Puddleglum Thanksgiving

I want to think I am a thankful person.  I’ve read that Voskamp book, and I’ve gotten to #81 of my 1000 gifts recorded.  (Started in July.) Okay, so I’m not doing so well.

There are some genes hidden somewhere I’m sure that boast thankful DNA.  But to be honest, I have a melancholy streak in me that sees the dark side first.  It’s not that I am a glass-half-empty kind of gal; I think I missed out on even getting the glass!

People that sport wide toothy grins all the time are irritating–irritating on several levels.  First, no one can be that happy all the time with all the war, pollution, bed bug infestations, dog droppings in public areas, and alien snatchings abounding; and second, how in the world could they afford all those beautiful veneers anyway.  Dentistry to me has always meant pain and money.  “Cosmetic” isn’t even on my dentally challenged radar.  So if you see a photo of me with a lovely genuine smile, most likely it will have been photoshopped, just as soon as I can afford that luxury item on my computer–me, one of the 98%!  Sigh.

When I was young, my dad used to tell me to get rid of that big lip or he’d knock it off for me.  No wait, that was the chip on my shoulder.  I think the lip line was something about a cat going to come sit on it (which wouldn’t have been so bad, I’m thinking).

How could I explain that pouting for me was a contact sport–contact meaning communication.  Without a serious pout, how was my family to know how incredibly tough life was being on this third of seven on a lovely farm in Ontario, far from the ravages of genocidal warfare, drought, bread lines, and multi-level marketing schemes.  No one took my aggravations seriously, so I took to writing poetry and moody songs.  Finally, I had an audience.  And after all, isn’t that the most important thing in life!

So here are a few of the things I am thankful for.  And be generous because I am trying really really hard!

• I am thankful for coffee.  Without it, my energy would flag by 9 a.m., and I would be more unproductive than my husband already thinks I am.  The fact that it contributes to my acid reflux and costs 5 bucks a pop only serves to remind me of the incredible sacrifices of which I am capable.  (Notice how I expertly was able not to end with a preposition? :-))
• I am thankful for my children, who though they move thousands of miles from me so as to increase my overwhelming feelings of loneliness and abandonment, still find it in their hearts (at least some of them) to have grandchildren so I will always have a new crop to laugh at my jokes.
• I am especially thankful for my youngest child who, though I secretly always loved him best, has broken my fragile heart by announcing to his dad and me that he is actually going to move out and start a life of his own.  I thought those apron strings were securely tied, and now he has the audacity to brutally and unceremoniously cut them with one callous move toward adulthood!
• I am thankful for the United States of America that warmly awarded me with an alien registration card.  I had to marry a Yank to get it, but that has worked out pretty well after all.
• I am thankful for Costco pumpkin pie because since I paid so much money for it, I feel obligated to eat it.  And what would pre-pre-Thanksgiving Day be without pie?  Then I can go to the family celebration and pretend that I am sticking to my diet; though, a Curves check-in next week may be a problem.
• Oh, and I’m thankful for Curves where I can pay good hard-earned money to pant and suffer and complain about not losing.  The pie and chocolate have nothing to do with it! I’m just big-boned.
• I kind of referenced this before, but I am thankful for my hubby, who not only made me legal, but has stood beside me through fat (I mean, thick) and thin for 39 years.  His only fault (at least that I have time to mention) is that he is a poor conversationalist.  As I lay in bed, all the ideas of the day percolate to my head and come out my mouth.  I get some of my best ideas then.  It is irritating that he thinks lying down might mean going to sleep.

I am thankful–I mean really–for many other things, but I better close now. This is exhausting.  I don’t remember the last time I was so thankful all in one microburst.  Whew!