Thanksgiving, Gratiturd, and Eatin’ Pants
Giving Thanks for Even the Turdy Things
Gotta be honest. This Thanksgiving, there is a dark cloud over my many reasons for gratitude. When I saw this poor font choice on a card, I thought, EUREKA! That says it all! Inspiration can come from the strangest places, yes?
GratiTURD.
Giving thanks even when things seem shitty. But mercifully, all is not shitty. So, here is my stab at expressing my gratitude even when it comes with an order of turd, smothered in Great Aunt Tillie’s lumpy gravy.
Freedom from dreadful Jell-O salads. As a young bride, I used to serve the Winn family staple green Jell-O salad to honor tradition. While it cannot be classified as Crimes Against Humanity, I eventually had the head slapping realization that I didn’t even like it. While it lacked horrifying ingredients found in the 1950s cookbooks, like a lovely tuna and olive pairing in a base of aspic, I liberated myself from the burden of tradition and went Jell-O free. For this, I am deeply grateful.
Eatin’ pants. Oh yes. Selecting just the right amount of elasticity is key. Not too tight to restrict second and third helpings, not too loose as to prevent a wardrobe malfunction. It’s part art and part science to find that Goldilocks fit and I am proud to say, I have achieved eatin’ pants perfection. I give thanks for the inventor of elastic.
Respectful political discussions. Haha. Just kidding. This is what will NOT be found around the table today. I give thanks with a round of applause. And this topic naturally reminds me of the next item.
Famotidine. This aging body doesn’t take overindulgence like it once did in my youth. So, this one is sort of in the grati-turd category. Heartburn sucks. Famotidine takes the suck away. For this, I genuflect in gratiturd, er; I mean gratitude.
Pumpkin pie buried under a cloud of whipped cream goodness. Need I say more? Bonus! Fiber. Dear God, thank you for whoever turned a gourd into this Thanksgiving staple. Many praises.
Post-prandial naps. This is where the brilliance of those eatin’ pants shines. No oppressive elastic to restrict while you begin the important task of digesting a week’s worth of calories over the course of 6 hours. Drooling and snorty snores that jar you from slumber make for excellent entertainment for those hearty souls not needing a recharge. Heartfelt thanks.
Hitting pause on the troubles that weigh us down. This is sort of in the gratiTURD category because while the break is nice today, those troubles will still be there tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow. Today, I am grateful for today.
Annoying relatives. Yup. They get a shout-out because I realize one day, their place at the table will be empty. A gentle golf clap of appreciation.
Assholes. Some people bless a room by entering, some people bless it by leaving the room. These are the latter mentioned. Betcha you can think of a few. Anyway. This belongs on the gratiTURD list because, duh, they are assholes, after all. But they also remind me of how I don’t want to be. And for this, kudos to the forces that be.
My new slippers. Ooooooh! So soft and cushy. And they were on sale too. ($10, Costco.) My tootsies are also giving thanks.
My readers. I saved the best for last. If you’re still reading this, I’m talking to you. Well, I’m talking to those who only read the first sentence, but it’s still all good.
Writing is a solitary endeavor which involves much more than word wrangling. You open a vein and bleed, as several writers have quipped. (The source of the original quote is a bit slippery.) And you put your heart into your words as you venture into vulnerable territory. It can be scary.
As a writer, few things bring me more pleasure than hearing from a reader that my words brought encouragement to them. A bit of selfishness in my motives, for sure.
But I believe absolutely and with my whole heart that in sharing our stories we can heal the chasms and divisions that keep us all from the life of peace and prosperity, (however you define it) we all desire.
I pray your Thanksgiving holiday is filled with good food, loved ones, eatin’ pants, and mostly, the realization of knowing YOU ARE LOVED. And I love you too. Many, many, vociferous thanks from my tippy toes to the top of my Q-tippy head.
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