The turkey was stuffed, and now I am. So are the dogs. We're all very content.
This is supposed to be a day to count one's blessings. I hardly know where to begin about what I am thankful for. There are so many things.
I'm thankful for my inherited health and family heritage. I went astray into cultism in early adulthood but am thankful I saw the light instead of wasting the rest of my life in a cult splinter. Those have been happening with predictable regularity every since William Miller and Ellen G. White set the original madness in motion. Every generation or so, other fanatics grabbed the ball and ran with it into even worse delusions. They run into the multiple hundreds now.
I'm thankful for having a wonderful soul mate wife to share what to me is an idylic life here in Cottonwood. I'm thankful for the children and grandchildren I've been blessed with. For good and thoughtful neighbors I don't have to be fearful of. For competent medical professionals who keep me and Phyllis in the best shape possible.
Even though we're not "rolling in dough," we have enough to squeak through every month. Many don't. I'm glad I inherited a bit of my dad's ability to squeeze a dollar until it screamed when necessary.
Most of all, I'm thankful I no longer cower in superstitious fear before an imaginary deity that keeps you in bondage to fear and guilt so the preisthood that champions him can ride around in hedonistic luxury.
Life is good. It won't last forever, but while it does, I intend to make the most of it. Thankfully and appreciatively.