Thankful (Or.. Why Reading The Porch Might Lead to a Hangover)

Whew. Lawdy.

This Sunday morning, I am grateful for the dawn of a new day, for the fresh start of a shiny, new week. If I can be blunt (and if you read The Porch, you know I can be), last week kicked my ass. It was a week that kept on giving - and not in a good way. Each day held a new "surprise" - but not the fun kind that includes cake and buttercream frosting.

Overall, I give last week the finger. I give it both fingers. I give it both fingers and two middle toes. That's how bad it was.

And yes, I feel guilty for complaining again. Damn my guilt complex. Can't I ever be entitled to say something sucked without feeling guilty for thinking it sucks? Nope. I still realize, overall, how fortunate I am. I've covered that in a recent post. God bless those who struggle. When I pray, I often tell Big G, "Hey. I know this must sound like super trivial stuff compared to everything you hear up there. Go work on those issues. I just needed to whine for a second."

Then I imagine the Big G says something like, "No, you need to wine for a second. Go pour yourself a glass and let me get back to serious business. But don't sweat it. You wouldn't believe the stuff people ask me for. This one crazy, 40-something-year-old woman keeps asking me for Hugh Jackman! Hugh-My-Finest-Handiwork-Jackman! Can you imagine? AS IF, girlfriend. Ohhhh. Was that...Um, never mind. Well, this is terribly awkward, isn't it? I've got to, um... Look! A monkey!"

See? I still see the lighter side of life. It's a gift. An irreverent, warped sort of gift.

Plus, I watched the movie version of The Help with my daughter this week, and I was struck by the conversation the maid, Constantine, has with a young Skeeter, when Skeeter feels the world is decidedly against her. I love Kathryn Stockett's beautiful novel so very much (it was one of those books I cradled at night before I closed it and set it, regrettably, aside), that I grabbed it and looked up the passage.

Constantine tells Skeeter,“Ever morning, until you dead in the ground, you gone have to make this decision... You gone have to ask yourself, Am I gone believe what them fools say about me today?"

So today, I ask myself that again:

Am I gone believe what them fools say about me today?

I wish it was easy to answer, "Hell to the no!" I wish life's problems were that simple to solve.

They are not, but this morning, I am going to shake my head NO when I ask myself that question.

I am going to pump my fist in the air triumphantly!

I am going to eat the last chocolate donut before my kids wake up because that is WHO I AM (I never claimed to be a saint).

I might not believe it quite yet, but I figure this is good practice.

And in that vein, I also begin this new, fresh week by celebrating some of the things I am grateful for today. As always, I am humbled by the big things I have been granted: family, friends, good health, my job and so forth. But it pays to be thankful for the little things, too...

• like the aforementioned last chocolate donut. The last one tastes the bestest. So does the first one. And the ones in the middle.
• I also am grateful for the woman at the bakery who asked me -- and I kid you not -- if I wanted  "a cup of frosting" with my donuts. God bless her. She gets me.
• I give Hugh Jackman way too much attention (Oh! Oh! I just thought of a new drinking game. Read through my blog, and each time I mention Hugh Jackman in a post, take a drink. Just don't blame me when you can't get out of bed the next morning). Although I love Hugh Jackman (just kicking the game off right), I also must give a shout out to my other pretend boyfriend, Christian Bale, and the newest Batman flick, The Dark Knight Rises, which opens this week. Whoever coined that movie title is friggin' brilliant. Is it hot in here?
• I am thankful for the plentiful rain our drought-weary area welcomed yesterday. The kids and I ran down the street in it, splashed in the puddles and let it soak us to the bones. It was beautiful.
• I also am stoked that I recently achieved the highest rating of five stars on the Wii Just Dance 3 game. How did I turn into Shakira? Well, I miss my kids terribly when they are gone, so to the pass the time, I sometimes play Just Dance. By myself. In my living room. In my underwear. Don't judge! What fun is it to be alone in your house if you can't dance around the living room in your underwear? No worries. I close the blinds to protect the innocent. I also cover the mirrors because I once made the mistake of watching myself dance. Turns out, I look less like Shakira and more like a monkey on crack. The game usually rates my moves as "creative." I'll take that as a compliment.
• I am grateful for James Taylor, who I saw in concert this week. He struck me as kind, gracious, and of course, wonderfully talented. (And -- I don't know if you know this -- but he's seen fire and he's seen rain.) As a creative type, I love to see artists like James Taylor perform, and I relish hearing the stories behind the music. They are artists who have always known who they are, and they refuse to be anything else. It's inspiring.
• Last but not least, I am thankful for you, for reading these silly posts. It's because of the Hugh Jackman drinking game, isn't it? Still, I love you. And Hugh Jackman. Cheers, you crazy, wonderful porch sitters!