Thankapotamus in the House!

I realize the phrase, "count your blessings," lies somewhere on the border of Clicheville and Hackneyed-town; however, I've always been a believer in focusing my energy on what's right instead of what's wrong in my life. Not that I consistently adhere to my prescribed philosophy, but I know in my heart that bliss cannot dwell in dismal domain. When I'm at my best, I sit in silence for a few minutes in the morning and gratefully consider all the good that subsists in my sphere. Beginning the day with a happy heart just works for me, whose natural state has always been clutching the Yield sign at the cross-streets of Anxiety Avenue and Worried Way. Here's a glimpse behind today's gratitude curtain.

* As I type this, I hear a loon's distinct call coming from the lake at the end of my street. This is a sound I rarely heard before I moved into this house. It's beautiful.

* My kids are so clever and are blessed with quick wit. We laugh so much together in my house and I'm both grateful and worried that their humor is just as strange as mine...

* Yes, there are people with better health than me and there are also people with far more health issues. I can still work, hang with my friends, ride my bike, enjoy creative projects that I love, and do a very tiny bit of housework.

* I know everyone says this, but I have the best friends in the history of friendship. We laugh until our guts and cheeks ache and support each other through bad days with good chocolate. I know that right this second, I could pick up the phone and reach at least a dozen women who would be here - emotionally, if not physically - immediately and wouldn't leave until I kicked them out.

* My mother has always told me I can do anything I want to do in this life and she still does. Never underestimate the power of a parent who believes in you...even if they are secretly gritting their teeth at the prospect of you moving to Minnesota to be with a man they've never even met.

* My husband wins the award for patience and picking up the pieces on-the-fly. Just last week my health zigged when it should have zagged and he swooped in like an understudy on opening night and took over all of my responsibilities for the day. And he never complains...ever.

* And lastly, I am thankful for those furry creatures that call me Mom. No, the kids don't need haircuts...I'm speaking of Saffy, Cosmo, and Phoebe, my pussycat posse. Their antics have nearly sent me Crazytown on more than a few occasions, but every day I can count on their fuzzy faces to send me into fits of laughter and then melt me into a puddle of "awww....look at her sleeping..." Plus, if not for the cats, what would I write about half the time?

So yes, I am a pretty grateful girlie. Life is good and gets better every day. For today, I'll just wait at the corner of Sparkle Street for my bus transfer to Bizarro Boulevard. Maybe we can sit together.