I can’t believe

I ate the whole thing.*

Boy, am I thankful that all the holiday food is finally gone. That perpetual New Year’s Resolution I make (probably, it should be called an All Years Resolution) is impossible to even begin to honor while there are still cookies and cakes and chips and dips around. I was derailed even further this year because of a family gathering on the 5th for a long-lost cousin.

He wasn’t really lost, of course The Navy has known where he is for almost 20 years. And I’ve seen him on Facebook. It’s just that it’s been a good long time since any of us have seen him in person. He was here for a day or two, so there was a gathering out at the pond.

When we do that, everybody brings something. Then, there is always too much food and most of us end up taking part of what we brought back home. Clearly, I need to learn not to volunteer to bring cake.

The thing is, I have all kinds of will power at the grocery store (assuming, of course, that I’m not starving when I go in there). I do not, however, have any will power at all once the food is already in the house. Quite the reverse, in fact, as I somehow manage to rationalize—at this time of year, anyway—the necessity to eat it up so that the dieting can begin.

(I am aware of how ridiculous that is. It’s the point at which the sensible idea of watching what I eat comes smack up against the other sensible idea of frugality—waste not, want not—and frugality wins. Because it has hunger—or, rather, bad eating habits—on its side.

But the cake is gone now. The dip is past its expiration date. (That’s a triumph. I didn’t eat it all this time!) And the MotH** can be trusted to finish off the few chips that are left.

Let the misery begin!

* That dates me, doesn’t it? Remember the Alka-Seltzer commercial?

** MotH = Man of the House

Eeek!

Acromantulas

Well, not really. But I know exactly how Ronald Weasley felt when he and Harry Potter tracked Aragog to his lair (web?).

I took the Christmas lights down today.

The ones around the garage—they were relatively easy.

The dock…that’s another story.

It’s not that it was hard to remove them. A little tricky maybe where they went around the corner and over the lamp, but I managed. A combination of a broom handle and acrobatic skill. Nothing spectacular.

It’s just that there are a few more spiders than usual out on the dock just now. Maybe it’s been too warm? I don’t know. But eeek!

I was okay with the necessity to evade the spider webs as I got the lights down off their hooks.

I was okay with the spider that rapelled past me as I handed the string of lights around the piling.

It’s just the rather large arachnid that was crawling across the front of my sweatshirt as I was coiling the lights that finished me off.

But…you know…let’s look on the bright side. I’m thankful I saw it before I wore it inside. I’m thankful it was on my shirt and not my head or my hand. I’m thankful that the heebie-jeebies were not so debilitating that I was unable to finish the job.

But…eeek!

I’m also hoping that by the time you read this post, I will be thankful that I did not have spider nightmares all last night. (I’m not feeling too confident about that because just writing this makes me feel like things are crawling on me, but hope is good. It never hurts to have hope.)

What I’d like to know, though, is just what is it the lizards think they are doing? I realize that the grasshoppers may be too large for them. But the spiders?

The natural balance around here seems off.

The spiders need to eat the other bugs, and then the lizards need to eat the spiders. It seems a perfectly straightforward food chain to me, but I don’t think the lizards are doing their part.

It’s always better

When I plan ahead.

Living in the moment is good. You don’t want to miss the present because you’re lamenting the past or worrying about the future. And bitter experience has taught me that plans come unraveled all the time. If you’re not flexible, you’re miserable.

That said, I am thankful today for those times when I plan ahead for those things that can make life easier.

It’s the little things.

Getting all the good china and silver out the day before the holiday meal. Having wrapping paper on hand before the gifts even come into the house. Encouraging my sister to test the online video call software before Christmas is actually upon us and my mom wants to see her grandchildren. (Okay. That’s a big thing.)

There are lots of little habits and “be prepared” actions that make life simpler. I’m not advocating OCD-like behavior, but the MotH* really wants coffee in the mornings, and he won’t drink it without milk, and he gets kind of grumpy about it. So, checking that we have milk—to say nothing of coffee—is one way to have a quiet life. (To be fair, if we screw that up, he’s perfectly willing to get on his bicycle and go down to the 7-Eleven.)

Today, I am thankful that I planned ahead about this blog.

Can you imagine having to interrupt a video call with the nieces and nephews or, heaven forfend, your own present opening to sit down and draft a blog post? When your mother is visiting?

That’s just not a good scenario.

So, I am a little bit proud of myself that I thought ahead. These may not be the best blog posts ever, but I got them done and scheduled before company arrived.

I am issuing metaphorical gold stars to myself.

I am also wondering a little what plainly self-evident thing I have forgotten to do that will have jumped up to bite me between the time I schedule this post and the time it appears. There’s bound to be something.

Oh, well.

Maybe it will make a good post for the future!

* MotH = Man of the House

I’ve got a ticket to ride

Well, I will have one. Eventually.

I’m thankful today that I managed to get through yesterday without losing my wallet.

See, I went shopping again. Errands. The bank. The library. All kinds of opportunities—just like the day before—except, this time, I kept track of the wallet. Yay, me!

The other thing for which I am thankful—it was a very thankful sort of day—is that I got the last two Christmas presents. You know, the two that occur to you in the middle of the night. When you think, “Ooops, I forgot so-and-so,” or “Golly, whosiwatsis probably isn’t going to like that. I better get her another little something.”

Got ’em. Wrapped ’em. Stuck ’em under the tree.

Efficiency!

And the third thing for which I’m thankful—told you it was a very thankful sort of day—is the walk I took to the new Park-and-Ride.

First, the weather was gorgeous. 72 and sunny. Second, the MotH* walked halfway there with me—because the pizza place is on the way. Third, well…it is precisely 1.09 miles to the Park-and-Ride. Not as good, perhaps, as if it were precisely 0.25 miles to the Park-and-Ride, but, still…a reasonable walking distance.

I cannot wait until actual buses begin to show up at the Park-and-Ride. I don’t know their ETA, but the Park-and-Ride is an exciting development for these transplants from the big city. The idea that I might be able to get on a bus and go into Jacksonville to a play or a museum is very appealing.

There’s no earthly reason we couldn’t drive into Jacksonville to a play or a museum—and we have—but it just seems easier to take public transportation. When you spend years in NYC and can get anywhere by subway, the fact that you suddenly have to drive everywhere seems unreasonable. It is far too easy to decide not to go, instead. Plus, one learns too late that one cannot eat the way one did when days were spent trekking around the city, up and down subway stairs.

I have high hopes of the Park-and-Ride. Cross your fingers!

* MotH = Man of the House

The heart of the matter

Chronic dissatisfaction is at the heart of the matter.

I’ve sort of taken Todd Gitlin’s words out of context. Truth be told, I don’t have the context. I found the quote on a quote website. But it resonates with what I have been thinking as I ask myself, “What am I thankful for on this Thankful Thursday?” Because, you know, I have to do a blog post.

The first thing I thought is that I’m going to be stuck for a blog post, because I’m not feeling very thankful just now. In fact, I’m feeling vaguely dissatisfied.

And then it struck me.

That’s the thing for which I am thankful.

You see, I’ve been in my “new” house for almost three years. The big culture shock of the move is over. The adjustments of finding doctors and dentists and grocery stores and dry cleaners have been accomplished. Almost everything has been unpacked and most things have found places. The big repairs to the house itself have been accomplished. There are still major remodeling projects to come, but the walls have paint, there is enough furniture to find a place to sit and a place to sleep as required, and we have managed to acquire most of the things we never needed previously. Lawn mowers, for example.

Moving is no longer the main focus of my existence.

Now I’m moved. And I’ve got to figure out what my new life should look like–other than a life lived in service to this house.

The house is all well and good. It’s beautiful, in fact. And I am enjoying the weather and the view and the coots. I am more than thankful for the quiet–as anyone who knew me during the living hell of my previous existence is no doubt aware. We’ve settled into a routine.

And it’s just occurred to me in the last week or so that something is not quite right.

I’m not painting and plastering every waking hour, so what am I doing?

That is a disconcerting feeling…or would be, except that I recognize it.

It’s the same feeling I’ve had in the past just before something really interesting comes along. Just before I get a great job or write a play or have an adventure of one kind or another.

I don’t know what this calm before the storm presages this time. I approach it warily—as one should approach all storms—but I am thankful the breezes are stirring.

I’ll echo my niece who said, once, at a family gathering when she was…oh, about one and a half…and had been playing quietly on the floor, paying no attention to any of the adults, until she popped suddenly into view, announcing with great interest and a joyfully rising inflection,”I wonder what’s gonna happen.”

Creativity, for me, has always required space—a gestational period of boredom. I think, perhaps, it’s come round again. And I’m thankful.

I wonder what’s gonna happen.

Nothing in the world

Can take the place of persistence.

I’ve mentioned part of this quote from Calvin Coolidge previously. Here, as a matter of fact.

The whole quote—one of my favorites is:

Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan Press On! has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.

The reason I bring it up today is that I am thankful for persistence.

Today is the 180th straight day of blog posts here. Six months. Six months of figuring out something to post, of preparing it, of setting up the appropriate links, adding the appropriate tags, scheduling the post and hitting the Publish button.

If you think that’s easy, you’ve never tried it.

But, I made a commitment to myself that I was going to do it, and I have persisted. Some posts have been better than others. Some days, I have had to drag my feet out of the muck and mud of I-don’t-feel-like=it, and push through the boy-this-post-stinks, and overcome the is-anybody-there-nobody’s-reading-it-anyway bugaboo. (“Bugaboo” — ‘now there’s a word to lift your hat to.’*)

So, I’m thankful for persistence, today.

Every time you face a challenge you get better at it. Not only do you get better at achieving that particular goal, you get better at achieving all goals. Once you prove that you can, it’s very hard to fall back on ‘I can’t.’

I was reminded of this recently, not only by my 180 day anniversary, but also by one of those not-so-rare bursts of synchronicity in a post on this same topic over at Dumb Little Man. (Good blog, Dumb Little Man. Just FYI.)

Of course, later today, persistence in dieting (another of my current goals, albeit a bit half-hearted) will likely fall by the wayside. I’m thinking fresh baked chocolate cookies and vanilla ice cream—a treat I first had at Joe Allen’s in the heart of the Theatre District in NYC. (I think Joe Allen’s may be the first restaurant I ever went to in NY after I moved there—although I didn’t have the cookies and ice cream that time.)

You have to have a balance, after all. Dieting can pause for a moment for a little celebration.

180 days!

* Luce, William (and Emily Dickinson), The Belle of Amherst

Deck the halls!

I’m done!

I have finished my Christmas shopping! And it’s not even December.

This is the absolute earliest I have ever been finished.

Clearly, there is some child that has been left off the list. An inadvertently missed niece or nephew lurking in the background. It is hard to believe that I don’t have to go to the mall again.

However, I’m going to try to believe that my lists are accurate and that everything that needs delivering will arrive in time to be wrapped, appropriately-sized boxes will appear, rolls of wrapping paper will hold out until all items are attractively covered and the re-shipping will proceed apace.

I have plans to sail through this year with time to enjoy holiday movies and my own Boat Parade party and maybe baking some cookies (and maybe not, because I have a tendency to eat them if I bake them).

I don’t know why it seemed somewhat easier this year, but I am devoutly thankful.

Why else?

“What we’re really talking about is a wonderful day set aside on the fourth Thursday of November when no one diets. I mean, why else would they call it Thanksgiving?”
~ Erma Bombeck

Why else, indeed?

This is the official Thankful Thursday.

We’re all thankful for health, wealth, love and friendship, roofs over our heads, food on our tables, peace in our time. (Well, maybe not today. It is the day we spend with family, after all. Somebody’s bound to have a fight.)

My official Thanksgiving gratitude list probably looks a lot like yours. I don’t have kids—and you may. You might not have a new sofa—and I do. Our different jobs are at different stages of success. Our bones are creaking more or less loudly depending on our different ages. Some of us live in colder states than others. Some of us even live under various different systems of government in different countries.

Some of us have had wonderful luck this year, and some of us have faced hardship and sadness. Some of us might even have trouble thinking of something for which to be thankful today.

So, let’s take a moment, just a moment, to remember this.

Now.

In this moment.

If you are reading this.

You are one of the luckiest people on earth.

870 million people in the world do not have enough to eat. *

780 million people lack access to fresh water.**

Almost half the world, over 3 billion people, live on less than $2.50 a day.***

More than 34 million people worldwide are living with HIV.****

There have been bombs dropping in Israel and Gaza for over a week.

Let’s not even talk about the Sudan.

Just, in general, the mere fact of having a computer, electricity, running water, something for dinner, puts us way ahead of far too many people.

Sure, we’ve all got problems and things that make us unhappy.

Let us be thankful, however, that so many of them are First World problems.

Enjoy the food, the family and the fights.

Enjoy your luck.

Happy Thanksgiving. (Someday, for everybody.)

* World Food Project

** Global Issues

*** Water

**** UNAIDS

Time passes

And that’s a good thing.

I’m thankful this Thursday for the passage of time. For the wisdom that comes with experience.

Such gloomy days we’ve been having this week. Wind and rain. A slight chill.

It’s all very depressing, and I’ve been feeling a little depressed. That old “what’s the use?” feeling. A little bit of “Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, gonna go eat some worms.”

But, the thing is, I recognize this place. I’ve been here before. And the recognition is something for which to be thankful.

I know that I do not like gloomy days. I like them less now that I live in a house with lots of windows—and, it must be confessed, as yet inadequate lighting. (Lamps. Must put lamps on the shopping list.)

I have a cousin who says she is solar-powered, and I’m thinking, perhaps, it runs in the family. Not that I’m a sun worshipper. I can imagine few things more unpleasant than an afternoon broiling on a beach towel. But I do like the world to look cheerful.

So, it is nice that I have reached a stage in my life when I can feel this way and recognize that it’s because of the recent time change and two days without sunlight and my thermostat set a hair too low—and, probably, because my To Do list bores me and I haven’t anything terribly interesting on the horizon just now. I recognize that the sun will come out, I will get lamps eventually, and something new and good is probably just around the corner.

I know that later tonight my husband will say something funny, or I will have a surprisingly delicious meal, or an old friend will call tomorrow, or I’ll have a sudden idea for a new play, or my new neighbors, when I get them, will be the most awesome people in the world.

See, time passes. And we learn things. And it’s all good.

To sleep,

Perchance to dream*

(Flapdoodle!)

Thankful today that, in general, I get enough sleep.

It’s on my mind, because Tuesday night, I did not get enough sleep. And I’m a little ticked off about that.

See, I started the evening with the firm intention of awaiting the outcome to the election. I was aware that meant it could be a very long night, but I was game. I wanted to know what happened. It seemed to me to be infinitely more desirable to be disappointed (assuming disappointment was the outcome—and it was 50/50, you know)—infinitely more desirable to be disappointed and then go to bed than to awake to disappointment.

There was always the chance of a joyful outcome, too. And how much better to end the day on a high note than to miss all the excitement.

Having reviewed these possibilities exhaustively (2 or 3 seconds, at least), I decided to stay up and see what happened.

All well and good, and the election was called remarkably early. At something like 11:15 pm, it looked like I would be heading off to bed.

Then there was a little problem with math over on the losing side, and we were suddenly looking at—we didn’t know what.

Now, a person cannot go to bed with the spectre of that famous photo of Truman the morning after the 1948 election hanging over her. She has to stay up to see what’s going to happen.

The result was that I didn’t get to bed until after two a.m.

You wouldn’t think that would be a big deal, but I’m neither as young as I once was nor,apparently, as resilient. I am certainly not as used to staying up late as I had been in the past. (56 hours without sleep is my limit. After that, I start to hallucinate. I know this from experience.)

Anyway, the election ended, the speeches were made, the pundits talked…and talked…and talked, and eventually, I went to bed.

I didn’t have to do anything important today, so it’s no bit deal that I’m tired and unproductive and have had a bit of a headache all day, but I do realize I need to be thankful for those days—and nights—I get enough sleep.

If you’re thinking about pulling an all-nighter sometime, I encourage you to think again. You might get more done if you take time to take a nap.

Try it. You’ll like it!

* Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, Sc. 1

Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

Tag Archives: Thankful Thursdays