A Moment of Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to all. And a special, heartfelt and sincere Thank You to all the men and women serving our Country, here and overseas.  My gratitude knows no bounds.

In recent years, we’ve been told that we should no longer give Thanks on this day, but rather, we should be mourning due to the genocidal tendencies of our forebears, at least according to Seattle.

Myth number 11 – Thanksgiving is a happy time.

That’s much more of a reality to parents we spoke to. “I don’t think that’s a myth at all. I think anything you are thankful for is great,” said parent D.D. Boutwell. The letter also asks teachers to understand that Thanksgiving is a “time of mourning” for many Indian people and a “reminder of 500 years of betrayal.”

Then, we were told that the Pilgrims were actually grave robbers and that is what we should reflect on as we sit down to give thanks with our friends and families.

“So the first Thanksgiving in America was actually held by grave robbers,” Loew told the crowd of more than 200.

Loew challenged the audience to tell the correct version of events and think about what it means when they celebrate this Thursday with family or friends.

However, since I usually do the opposite of the general consensus in Seattle, (or Wisconsin, for that matter) I’ll stick with gratitude over mourning. Plus, don’t try to talk to ME about oppression when my standard Thanksgiving entails slaving over a hot stove starting at 6:00 a.m., stuffing things up a turkey’s ass (after pulling vile giblet thingies out of said ass first.) This, on maybe 4 hours of sleep due to my obsessive pie baking the night before. Five hundred years of betrayal? Please. True betrayal is when you slave away for two days (almost) with an, as usual, cheery disposition and nary a complaint and yet still no one so much as lifts one finger to help clear the dishes. Not even wash them, mind you. Just clear them off the table. It is almost enough to turn me Feminist. Almost.

This year, to avoid the clean-up chore angst, I think I may serve the food directly on a plastic, flannel-backed tablecloth. If anyone dares to suggest that may be slightly odd, I’ll simply remind them of their utter lazy sod-ness on prior years. Maybe then they’ll be thankful that they aren’t having their holiday dinner at Boston Market or Applebees. Regardless, since I’m obviously super nice, in the spirit of Thanksgiving with a snarky HA! at the thought of a day of mourning, I’m also eternally thankful for the following:

My little girl, Grace, who has brought more joy and happiness into my life than I ever could have imagined. And for Daniel, who has done the same (though my eyes are now more crinkly from the giggling and laughter, dammit!)  For my family and friends, of course, especially my Cave and ‘Crat friends who are always there for me, even when I sorta disappear and don’t deserve it. And for my God, for Freedom and for the Greatest Country on Earth, regardless of what others like to believe. For memories of my Dad, for my wonderful commenters here, for Twitter – endless enjoyment FOR FREE; I’m thankful for all there who make me use my Thinkies, yet always through a wonderful veil of laughter.

For Midol, coffee, Ronald Reagan (I’m still so thankful that such a man ever existed), corn, Eric Cartman, cheese, aging hippies (as one good one can keep me giggling for days on end. Plus, it is SO much fun ticking them off), Ready Bacon (should convince all atheists that there is a God), laptops, the Pixies, The Clash, The Cure, Duran Duran, the Killers and many other bands that would take pages to list, plumping lip gloss, purty shoes, Greg Gutfeld and the Red Eye gang, Steak Pie, good beer, good books, Danish newspapers, George W. Bush (thanks for not letting us all get killed– seems no one ever remembers to thank you for that, dear Sir), DVRs, the South, blueberry muffins, Mark Steyn, Michelle Malkin, Ayann Hirsi Ali, Andrew Breitbart, Thomas Sowell, Dennis Miller, online shopping, the laughter of a child, laughter period, cool whip, home schooling and the Wascally Wabbit.

Whew! Not limited to and not necessarily in that order. Oh! And Gravy. Might I suggest that Turkey Day be called Gravy Day, as the gravy is usually the real star of the show. I’ve been known to literally tackle my little brother for the last ladle of gravy — I’m small, but I’m scrappy!

Happy Thanksgiving, all, with sincere best to you and yours. And, please; No “politically correct” mourning.  Give thanks and enjoy.