Belated thanks

I meant to write a Thanksgiving post in which I itemize all my blessings and heartfelt thanks. Thing is, I’ve spent this entire year giving thanks, and I needed to edit the list. Nothing like a little unemployment to kick start Thanksgiving in December. There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t taken stock of all that is good in my life since Gabriella lost her job. In a peculiar way, unemployment has been a blessing in itself. I certainly would have preferred a big, whopping income instead of the day to day fear of losing everything we have. But this past year, I have had the chance to put our situation in perspective and be truly grateful for the things big whopping incomes just can’t buy.

“Such as?” you ask. Why, I’m so glad you inquired.

I am thankful for amazing family and friends and supportive readers (and especially those friends and family who are also readers because you’re my favourites). Your words have fortified and inspired me. Your good will has touched me beyond measure and allowed me to see how incredibly generous and thoughtful and loving you are, and I treasure you.

I am thankful for good health which enabled me to pass the physical examination required to start my new job on Monday. I am thankful for my personal doctor who does NOT, in fact, work at the medical center where my employer sent me for the physical examination. It was not a pleasant experience to say the least. I watched Access Hollywood with the rest of the infirmed and debilitated. The volume was so loud, I couldn't avoid listening to mindless gossip about talentless celebrities while I inhaled all the sick germs buzzing around me.

There were 2 enormous vending machines in the holding pen, I mean waiting room: one offered a variety of flavoured chips, candy bars and what some poor souls might call pastries and the other offered carbonated sodas representing all the colours of the rainbow in the most artificial of ways. I assumed that the doctors fed the machines quarters as much as they fed themselves as they were just about as enormous as the vending machines. Unhealthy doctors do not inspire confidence, and I hoped that no one would fall on me during my exam.

There was a brief moment when I thought I might not pass the drug test. Not what you're thinking! While it's true that Asher's homework assignments require an inordinate amount of gluing, I didn't think I'd test positive for glue-sniffing. I was concerned because the technician dipped his stick in my cup...steady....and asked me, “Are you in the middle of your menses?” Ew. What a bad word. “No.” “Hmm. Trace of blood in your urine.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that it was probably the result of a girlie-grooming mishap suffered earlier that morning during my shower. Did I just hear you suck in air through your teeth? Yes, well, allow me to take this moment to provide a public service announcement and encourage my readers to resist grooming when in a hurry.

The technician shrugged his shoulders and disregarded the results. I didn’t want to delay this procedure any longer than necessary, but shouldn’t he have been a little concerned? Never mind. I am thankful that my own doctor would have cared. She was the one who encouraged me to get the x-rays taken when Asher launched his head into my face. Turns out, he actually broke my nose! Well, he chipped the bridge of it to be specific. Nothing to be done about it, but I do feel justified for having complained for days about the excruciating pain whenever I moved my head or adjusted my glasses.

I am thankful for Gabriella and Asher and Levi who remind me how lucky I am every day-even when they break parts of my face. I’m even thankful to my brother Benjamin who bought Asher an accordion for his birthday. I realized how much I value my family’s happiness when I willingly sat through hours of Asher’s accordion “music” and never once asked him to stop. That’s not to say that I didn’t fantasize about finishing our basement while he was playing, however.

Last, but definitely not least, I am thankful for my sister Rachel, the anti-blogger, whose response to my recent employment was, “What will become of the blog?” She might think blogging is bizarre, but she loves my blog because it’s a part of me. She knows that if I don’t have time to blog, I’ll be cranky. She doesn’t like when I’m cranky. I guess ultimately, it’s all about Rachel. I must find time to write so that I can be nice to her. I will find the time. I will find the time for me, for you and most importantly for my sister.