I got your Thanksgiving right here.

I have been doing my best to ignore the Christmas music that’s been playing not on one, but two, TWO local radio stations since November 1.

And I’m turning the channel whenever a Hey-It’s-Christmas-Let’s-All-Consume! ad comes on TV. I’m trying to make peace with the fact that those awful Gap ads will be playing nonstop for the next month.

And I’m even giving folks with their Christmas lights up the benefit of the doubt, thinking that the lights are up only because it’s been nice, and folks are worried bad weather might impede regularly-scheduled light set-up.

See? I’m a giver.

And I’m trying to give thanks. But sometimes it feels like we are small band, as the world jumps from Halloween immediately to Christmas. In other words, eat a bunch of candy and dress like a whore, then immediately buy a bunch of overpriced plastic crap that you don’t need.

I know! I don’t know why other countries hate us, either.

I also don’t know why Thanksgiving seems to be a dying holiday. I think it’s pretty kick-ass. What’s not to like about eating good food and being mindful of your blessings?

In my yoga class today, the instructor talked about giving thanks for the big little things … clean water, our bodies’ abilities to practice yoga, not missing a meal.

And that got me thinking about the grave injustice that got me so stinkin’ mad yesterday.

See, My Guy has this truly hideous fake tree that the previous owners left at his house. If a palm tree and a piece of green construction paper had a baby, it would look like this tree.

We decided that since he’s hosting his family for Thanksgiving that we should decorate The Thanksgiving Tree. So, we bought some ugly decorations at Michaels. And we made turkey hand print ornaments out of construction paper. This was, of course, my excuse to buy a new box of crayons.

Now, there are few things I love in this world more than a new box of crayons. I love the way they smell. I love the orderly way all the even points line up in the box. There’s just something so clean and fresh about a new box of crayons – it’s about hope and faith and all that is good and right with the world.


Except, upon opening my brand-new box of 96 Crayolas, I realized that someone had flipped open the top part of the box and used some of my new crayons. Like, maybe someone had tested out the crayons at Target, then plopped the run-down crayons back in the box.

Who would do such a thing?

So, I’m trying to be thankful for my ability to buy a new box of crayons even though it’s not the beginning of the school year. And I’m trying to be gracious about whatever random teenager coloring with my crayons. I’m trying to have Thanksgiving in my heart, even if the world around me jumped to Christmas.

The world around me, except for some neighbors who posted what is supposed to be a Thanksgiving flag outside their door. It features pilgrims that look sort of like Fisher-Price people … except that the guy pilgrim totally has a porn ‘stache. Now, every time I walk by that house, I think, “Pilgrims! Bow chicka bow wow!” Which is not really the spirit of Thanksgiving at all.

Do you think there’s pilgrim-themed porn? “Oh, Captain Standish … now I know why your first name is Miles!”

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