Thanking the UnThanked

Thanksgiving is one of my very favorite holidays. This could be due to the fact that I am not the one cooking the turkey and tending to the numerous needs it shockingly maintains for a non-living, non-lovely creature. High maintenance is putting it mildly. It may as well have every cosmetic enhancement-attachment known to man, drive a Bentley and have a Heffy...aka sugar daddy. Or maybe Thanksgiving is so cozily intoxifying to me because sweet potatoes(canned, plus brown sugar, orange juice, maple syrup, marshmallows, oven...done and done) and (store bought)flaky on the outside, gooey on the inside rolls(generally served heated and in a basket masquerading-believably as homemade) are not too much of a strain on my acute lack of domesticity. Maybe it is all the pungent scents that fill the house; the tart of fresh cranberries, the sugar-nutty scent of pecan pie, the smell of wood crackling on the fire. Perhaps it's the rediscovered Christmas Cd's caroling melodically in the background. It could be the thrill of the football blaring on the television, or the sun burning stubbornly through the chilled fall air. Maybe it is the crunch of gold, ruby and amber colored leaves under my boots. Whatever the reason? I am thankful for Thanksgiving. Of course the togetherness is nice and we are all thankful for the heaped blessings we have like home and family, friends,health, food...not to be mistaken for health-food...Just so we're clear...that is a curse and not a blessing. As I was sitting post consumption (no tofu or granola in site) in my L-Tryptophan induced dreamlike haze...my mind took a little detour.I started to think about some of the things I am thankful for...things and people that may otherwise go un-thanked.

Okay...so here is the list I generated on my brief, familiar trip to Random-ville.

1. I am thankful for the orange-red poppies that bloom in my neighbors front yard during the sweltering summer months. They may as well be shiny-the way they grab my gaze as I stroll past their house. Not quite sure that I have experienced poppies outside of the fiery field in the Wizard of Oz that lulls Dorothy and her Friends into a dreamy sleep. But this little patch of poppies, on this simple suburban street, in this two-horse town, in my little corner of the world...is beauty flower-ified. There is a quote that says "I would rather have flowers on my table than diamonds on my neck." I wouldn't be mad at either, but I definitely would rather have poppies in my neighbors yard than to suddenly develop a grassy green, soil-brown and wormy thumb. Although the poppies? They do gloriously beckon me to do so in their oh-so vivid "get some of us all your own" bursts of crimson and mandarin.

2. Okay so this is pretty lame, I realize. And I apologize for aiding the spread of consumerism like the small pox. I CAN resist Shmarshmucks MOST of the time. However, until the Starbucks Holiday Flavors arrive? Neither does the Christmas Season...officially. A friend of mine aptly describes their holiday coffees as "Christmas in a Cup".Be it gingerbread, eggnog, peppermint mocha...(the list goes on) have yourself alotta lattes...and you will be thankful too-EVEN if you have to make yourself an island of solidarity with your no-name joe, drunk black. Brewed via recycled filter, sipped roguely from your sad lil ugly chipped mug until next Christmas...as java penance for your herd-like Christmas coffee gluttony. Just Do It...now enter cheesy, quippy commercialism...sorry. I'm so sorry...

3. Chugga-chugga-choo-choo- Enter the goofy train. I am thankful for music and how much it enriches our lives...as a non-singer, non-dancer, non-musician...my life is still significantly enhanced and defined by music. With the passing of Michael Jackson this year-I took a little moonwalk back (chacoot, chacoot*Michael noise*) and thought about what an amazing musical legacy he left behind. Truthfully I was weepfully wistful, because from Thriller:the first record I purchased with my own dime (um those were big, black, vinyl round disky things that played in a spinny box with a needle dealy...records, not dimes. Dimes still exist)to the WIZ (which I adored and ahem...may have allegedly seen at the drive-in-"Ease On Down The Road")...Michael left a white glove-shaped mark on my young life. His was the first face(via poster) to grace my bedroom wall and his was my first big concert. Creatively...he was a gift to us all. And then? Patrick Swayze left us too. And even though The Outsiders was not musical (It was still Brat-Packed with teen angst and tear drops)-Dirty Dancing most certainly was. I will never be able to hear "Stay," "Cry to Me." "Do You Love Me?"...or anything else from that soundtrack without being instantaneously pulled into summer-recalling in living color being a long-legged gawky tween in cut offs and a tied white button down (just like Baby) and dreaming of a Johnny all my own. One that MOST assuredly would disallow anyone to "put me in the corner"...and would log dance with me on a whim. For a gazillion reasons-sentimental and otherwise-I am thankful for music-and the memories with which they enrich our lives.

4. There is an outdoor ice rink near my house. One that I have never set skate on. But there is something so Norman Rockwell about it- that it (like Tom Cruise when he was more Maverick-than Maniac) simply takes my breath away. Encircled in icy-blue twinkle lights in a courtyard dressed up to its' mistletoe in Christmas. Tucked into a side street decked in wreaths, garland and holly. There is even a shiny silver Airstream vending steamy hot cocoa. This wintry wonderland could not be more magical, well...if it were magical...Oh and it reeks (in a caramel-apply goodness kind of way)...of Serendipity. You can't go wrong there. If you haven't seen the movie? Don't admit it out loud. Order it from Amazon, don't bother renting.Merry Christmas from John Cusack to you.

5. Finally...I am thankful for laughter. The loud unchecked kind that shakes my babies' bellies. Because there is no other such example of pure, unabashed joy as the giggles that run rampant and take us over in waves. How frequently get entangled in the stresses and the troubles of the irrelevant trifles that we allow to occupy us...that we forget what it is to cut loose and laugh so hard that tears stream down our cheeks and the air escapes our lungs in jovial fits. What a delectable way to suffocate! Who couldn't use more laughter and whimsy? Serious is overrated. Silly is the new sophisticated...Or hadn't you heard? Regardless...

Alas, I find it quite pleasurable here in Randomville...so I am gonna' chill here...maybe get a little giggy wid' it...but you better be getting back. By all means, come and visit me here again. Consider it an open invitation...Next time? Bring your thank the thankless box and show me what ya' got in there. Deal?