On this day of gratitude, I’d like to thank the Native Americans, who didn’t turn the white interlopers away or slaughter them on sight. Which, in retrospect, would probably have been a wise idea… America may not be perfect but it often seems better than the alternatives.
I was going to save this post for the end of my Yes-Vember! month but decided today would be better. I want to recognize the unparalleled people who love me! They all have their own, individual talents but the one I appreciate most is their patience with and love for me. I’m not always an easy person to be with. I complain a lot. (Which you readers are painfully aware of, I suppose…) Is it lame and lazy to merely list them? Do you need backstory? Screw it. I’ll say that these are the people I call when I’m depressed. When I can’t get out of bed. Or out of the house. They’re the friends who talk me back from the ledge. If I need to borrow money or a couch to crash on, these are the people I’d ask. They’re also the folks who show up to celebrate whatever it is I’m celebrating: birthdays to ridiculously costumed bar crawls, Pink Drinks to unappreciated holidays. (Er, maybe all the holidays. All of ’em. Cinco de Mayo. St. Patrick’s Day. Easter. I’m a sucker for a holiday.) They’re the inner circle of my inner circle. I couldn’t make it without them. And I am so grateful for them. In alphabetical order so no one feels more — or less — important!
Eeva aka Pinky
If you didn’t make the list, don’t feel bad. I know I’ve cried on the phone with a whole lot of people. These folks are lucky to receive the brunt of my meltdowns. Tomorrow I’ll be back with less sap! And maybe more backstory. <wink>