Its now Sunday.
I think I was abducted by aliens.
NaBloPoMo excuse #5572
I am cooking for the kids, the ex, and the housemate.
When I say that, I get this weird eyebrow response. Yes, I’m awesome. I’m not only making a turkey, against my moral fiber, but I’m making it for people, with the exception of one or two, who could really care less. Why? Fuck if I know. That’s why I poured my first glass of wine at 10am.
But, enough of the misery. Thanksgiving also brings about a montage of memories. From the Thanksgivings that my mom prepared, my Grandma prepared, my step family subjected me to (Polish Thanksgivings are weird, yo) and then my adult experiences with recreating said memories for my own family. The friends who have come through my home… The BellyDancer (twice, thrice? I can’t remember!), Lola and Family (tee hee!), the guy from college and his dad, the second family in Arkansas (Tammy! Mom!) and, today, just The Crew.
Thanksgiving Thankfulness? I’m glad you asked! I have a lot of gratitude to spread around…
Me! Because, no matter how whiny I am, I’m still a fighter, and have an abundance of opportunities before me… things that I will make my bitch.
My kids. They keep me crazy, they keep me sane. They mess up my house and they bring me beautiful photos of flowers, butterflies and minivans. There is never a dull moment with them, and that’s exactly why I love them. Plus, well, tax deductions.
My friends. LadyHawk, Freckles, Mo, Freedom, Pizzle, Q, P.S., TribalMeg, Smidge, FunDee, Sapphire, and everyone who takes the time to tell me that I’m not entirely insane, most days.
My family, which is pretty much my sister, her family and our Grandmother. Sharing DNA can be a true adventure.
My clients. Seriously.
I’m thankful for the opportunity to babble endlessly about myself, here, make a living online and to have been smart enough to turn a hobby into a relatively unique career.
Oh, and lastly, roller skating… because now I have a hobby that doesn’t involve chemicals. Hell yeah.
I even have a jacket that proclaims my bitchitude, courtesy of my mama. Its a well known fact that when you have apparel with words on it, you are officially an important member of that word club. Look it up.
But, first, you must all read about me… because, sometimes, blogging incessantly about myself just isn’t enough. I like it when other people recognize the pearl inside this oyster… the sun behind the clouds… the little man in the boat… oh, wait, we’ll just stick with the pearl analogy.