Throughout the year — which arbitrarily begins in January, but it might, for some, begin in March or September — we plant intentions and actions that sometimes mature to yield rewarding harvest or slumber, reviled, regretted or forgotten, forever.
To be truly balanced about life, we should set aside a day for regrets. The occasion might be called Up Your Stew Day so we don’t offend the tyke-minds with Up Yours Too Day. It would be celebrated by every observer wandering into a public meadow and having a private interface with the Omniscient Spirit (Yahweh, Heavenly Father, God, your call here) while sipping unsweetened lemon juice and munching vinegar-flavored Pringles. I will never speak in favor of such a day because I feel the future of humanity is tied to gratitude first.
Most important in my life are the people who I am privileged to know who have have enhanced my life. Everything else is collateral:
Mark Russillo, Kevin Panting, George Jaworski, Thea Chesley, Patti Long, Darley Copp, Fred Russillo, Bridget Ingebrightsen, Fletcher Ferrar, Roland Klose, George Tinkham, “I’mThirtyWHAT?” Donna Aschenbrenner, Jennie Battles, Melissa Hendricker, Gayle Norton, Angie Dunfee, Sonia Lang, the excellent people at Arcadia Publishing, David Barringer, Dee Nelson.
It’s a short list. If I can last until spring, I believe my list will be longer next November, not that it should be. I am lucky to know these people. I am also lucky to know some dozens more wafting in and out of my life like robins alighting on my front lawn, flying away and returning again.
This is a solitary but reverent Thanksgiving for me. No unhappiness in this home as I consider the harvested satisfaction of this year.
I was into action at 9 this morning after sleeping about five hours with the thermostat set to provide comfortable heat for the long weekend. No hands between my legs to stay warm; they’re fine. So fine that I’m spending hours in the basement where it’s not WARM, but I am warmed by the satisfaction that I am doing something CONSTRUCTIVE. I have discovered over the years that when I am doing something I believe I should be doing, am meant to be doing, the temperature around me doesn’t matter. When I decide in July that it IS TIME to mow the lawn, I don’t feel the heat. I write articles for Springfield Business Journal and I don’t notice my hands. I improve the model displays and files downstairs, and I don’t mind the Fahrenheit because I’m on point, on mission. That said, when I am in between the projects, it’s nice, it is supremely satisfying to be not cold.
Later today, I will commemorate my harvest home with sliced turkey (custom cut at the Schnuck’s deli Wednesday late afternoon) on toasted Bunny Whole Wheat with melted Colby and Hellman’s mayonnaise; canned candied yams with melted mini marshmallows (I forgot the Brussel sprouts, dang it) eased down the hatch with some Burgundy and crowned with all the Butter Pecan ice cream I want for dessert. Following a nap with the white noise of a football game on TV, I shall return to normal programming. I have a lot of work to do with AeroKnow, and I will engage that action, thankful that I have been permitted by Fate and some mighty terrific people to know today. Earlier this year I would not have bet I would be here today,
Whoever you are, I hope your Thanksgiving is satisfying and reverent as you desire it to be. Thanks for reading this posting at Honey & Quinine.
Live long . . . . . and graciously.