As we gather up our things for a flight to the great frozen Northwest, I must stop--simply stop and think for what I am grateful. I could make an endless list. I will not.
Everything is everything. No need to divide it up. There is something larger I am up to.
I am thankful that I am here. I haven’t had any life scare or any religious conversion. I am simply thankful that I am here at all, that anyone is here at all. I live very close to a neighborhood in Los Angeles called Miracle Mile.
I know I often carry on like a weary misanthrope. It’s often in jest. Often, it is justified. Cranky complainers are just failed romantics. But for one week, this week, I am going to accept that being here awakens my gratitude. Fill up with that. And pie.
Enjoy your Thanksgiving. The blog will return on Monday.
Personal Recommendation: Mary and John, enjoy every minute of Paris.