Holidays are not my thing. Not to sound like an old bat, but holidays come with too much commotion. I do love St. Patrick’s Day, and there’s a certain amount of commotion that comes with that, but it’s barroom commotion, not kitchen commotion. Yes, it’s the kitchen commotion that sets me on edge.
I’m not a food person, which makes Thanksgiving my most dreaded holiday of all. Sure, I’m happy to be spending time with my family and of course I’m thankful for everything I have, but that’s my point—I just don’t need to prove how thankful I am by eating an exorbitant amount of food.
I give thanks every day. Really. For several years I kept a gratitude journal and at the end of each night I wrote a list of all the gifts I received that day, whether it was unexpected email or call from a friend, a check in the mail, a good day at work, or even a smile from a stranger. I no longer write everything down, but at the end of each day I do reflect and give thanks.
So the annual feast means nothing to me; expressing gratitude should be a daily practice. I feel the same way about Valentine’s Day. I don’t want tokens of acknowledgement once a year; offering appreciation for a satisfying relationship should be a daily event! Which probably explains how a good-looking chick like me stays single.
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