Our Thanksgiving was laid-back and relaxing. We spent it at my parents' house with my mom and dad, my brother John, and my other brother Joe and his wife Libby.

(I was a slacker and didn't take many pictures)

I have been trying to be more grateful in my life. I think I do an ok job, but I want to rock at it. Lately, I've been thinking about it in the mornings, after Mr. Hercules leaves for work and I am in bed alone, waiting for another hour before I really have to get up.

My list usually starts something like this:

• I am thankful for Mr. Hercules
• I am thankful for this amazingly comfortable bed (made comfortable by this)
• I am thankful for the harem of lovely pillows that Mr. Hercules puts up with (which leads me to be thankful for Mr. Hercules again)
• I am thankful for our safe home
• I am thankful for this amazing bed

 And then I usually fall asleep again.

My mom gave us these gratitude journals a while back, and I've tried to write things in there, but haven't been awesome at it either. So the past little bit, I've trying to do better. So, with a little more thought, here is part of my list of gratitude.

• I am thankful for my amazing husband. I couldn't have dreamed up a better man. Some days I wonder if I'm dreaming it all, or really married.
  
• I am thankful for awesome parents who have no idea how seriously cool they are.
• I am thankful for the ability to read (made possible by the awesome parents who have no idea how seriously cool they are), and the passion I have for it
  
• I am thankful for my job
• I am thankful for a reliable vehicle
• I am thankful for simple joys from etsy that make my hands less dry and my lips less chapped (and my ears more pretty, and my body smell lovely, and my fingers all ring-y, etc. etc...)
• I am thankful for the right to vote, even if it doesn't go my way
• I am grateful that I don't have to be scared when I go out shopping, or come home at night
• I am grateful that I have a kick-toshie family 

"What is the world's greatest lie?" the boy asked, completely suprised.
"It's this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what's happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate. That's the world's greatest lie." 


"People learn, early in their lives, what is their reason for being," said the old man, with a certain bitterness. "Maybe that's why they give up on it so early, too." 


"When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it..." 


"...people need not fear the unknown if they are capable of achieving what they need and want. We are afraid of losing what we have, whether it's our life or our possessions and property. But this fear evaporates when we understand that our life stories and the history of the world were written by the same hand."

Your horoscopes, compliments once again of The Onion:

I do not have pretty feet. They are long rectangles that are the same size as Mr. Hercules'. (we found that out this weekend) They also have thick scars running down the sides of them where I had surgery on them when I was in eighth grade.

98% of my days, I don't think even think about those scars. They've become a part of my feet, and I love my imperfections. Sometimes my feet hurt when the weather changes, and I can't bend my big toes very far, because the bones were cut and fused back together, but even then I don't remember that it was because of the foot surgeries.

Mr. Hercules didn't even notice my ugly feet for quite a long time, which should really be quite shocking, because I am a Barefoot Earth Child as often as possible, and he tickle tortures as often as possible.

I remember how incredibly painful those surgeries were; waking up in the middle of the surgery, and not handling the pain medicine well and having to get shots instead, and recognizing for sure that I have a VERY low pain tolerance compared to most people. I remember my best friend Zach staring at me when I came to school in a wheelchair instead of the crutches I promised I would come strolling in on (apparently he had a fear of wheelchairs? Not sure, but he didn't talk to me for a week. After that, he would push my wheelchair around, carry my books, and be Zach again).

As painful as things like that are, it's amazing that we don't think about them all the time, that we let them pass and become part of us. And then, one day, we don't even think about them anymore. We even forget the scars are there.

We had a very fun party at our apartment on Saturday! Hope your weekend was a safe one!