Item one: I am thankful for my knockers

The teachers upstairs, they have a white board. Every week they write a topic . . . and then the others respond to it.

This week was "What are you thankful for?"

And a friend of mine, who will remain unnamed, wrote "My Knockers". Which is hilarious. And she should be, honestly.

So I am thankful for:

My Knockers -- no, really they're great.
My Family, even though they yelled about stale crackers for fifteen minutes. I have been listening to the stale crackers fight for 36 years . . . my mother does not care about crackers and their state of freshness. My father feels very strongly that crackers must be as fresh and crunchy as possible . . . directly out of the unopened package. They can discuss the state of the saltines for hours. And when I say discuss? I really mean yell.

"NORMA, THESE CRACKERS ARE STALE."
"No, they're not. I just took them out of the bag."
"THEY'RE OLD. THESE ARE DEFINITELY STALE."
"(innocently . . . like she doesn't know . . . ) I MUST HAVE KEPT THEM FOR YOUR BIRDS THEN DEAR."
"JUST THROW THEM AWAY. WHO DOESN'T THROW STALE CRACKERS AWAY? WHY DO YOU INSIST ON KEEPING STALE CRACKERS?"
"(dismissive tone) I WAS JUST KEEPING THEM FOR YOUR BIRDS. FEED THE BIRDS WITH THEM. (my sister just read this and commented "BULLSHIT. She didn't keep them for the birds.)"
"IF YOU WERE GOING TO FEED THE BIRDS WITH THEM, WHY WOULD YOU PUT THEM OUT FOR US?"

This goes on in a circle for fifteen minutes, until I snatch the crackers and put them in the trash. And then my mother will make me take them out of the trash and put them in the backyard.

I love them anyway.

I am thankful that I am at a point in my life that I can buy a pretty pretty princess jeep.
I am thankful for my wonderful, supportive, great friends. (yes, you and you . . . and you . . . )
I am thankful that I am healthy. And that I don't seem to have hand foot and mouth disease anymore.
I am thankful that I have such an interesting life.
I am thankful that I am talented (I can make sock monkeys), and smart, and am now confident enough . . . although it took a while, to see that I am talented and smart.
I am thankful for Mr. Cat, who fought valiantly against my knitting needles today. He's getting on in years, but still loves a good knitting needle kill.
I am thankful that I have several good pairs of shoes (if not fifty) and several pairs of jeans that make my butt look good.
I am thankful that I have people that will tell me when I butt doesn't look good . . . AND people who will tell me that I have a great ass.
And to round out . . . I'm thankful that I have a good booty.

As an aside, my mother is thankful that my hair isn't blue . . . because evidently, I am sooooo much more attractive when my hair isn't blue.

May everyone have a great Thanksgiving.