Monday, November 29, 2010

Thankful

It's been a while since my last post because I've had a bit of the writer's block, but then I remembered my wise and lovely friend Marcy.  Marcy advised me to just sit down and write about whatever's on my mind whenever I find myself in this predicament.   So here I am, sitting and writing.

So what's on my mind at the moment?  My family and how very thankful I am for all of them.  A long Thanksgiving weekend can do that to a girl, I guess, but getting together with my family is always soul food for me.  When I was living at home in my teens and early twenties, I couldn't wait to get the H-E-double hockey sticks out of there, but time and distance (and a bit of life experience) will do wonders for a person's perspective.  For example, I've learned that my brother wasn't actually spying on me, that everything my mom says is not some thinly veiled attempt to control my life, and that my dad actually does listen.  If only I had known then what I know now, I could have seen my family for the wonderful people that they are and I would have saved myself so much angst.  But then again, I was a Smiths fan.  Angst was sort of a given.

Nowadays, there's nobody I'd rather hang out with.  Unconditional love and support, laughter, great food and strong drinks (after 5 p.m., of course) are guaranteed.  What could be better?  For now we are all here, alive and well, and I see every day and every experience with my family as a gift.

I hope that all of you had a wonderful Thanksgiving with family and friends and that your souls were fed as well as mine.

p.s.  Thanks, Marcy.

3 comments:

  1. We had a great Thanksgiving, too. But missed the Millis and Bakers a whole lot. Preston was even heard to say that someday he really wanted to learn how to cook, and not just dumb fancy stuff, but really good stuff like Bob Milli.

    Thanks for the compliment. Glad you sat down and wrote.

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  2. Mrs. Bizzle, clearly your family differs vastly from mine. My brother WAS always spying on me, my mom STILL tries to control me, and my dad-- blame it on the Vietnam PTSD or not-- has NEVER listened to me.

    All I can say is, "stop me, oh, oh, oh, stop meeeee...stop me if you think that you've heard this one before.." LOL

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