But turkeys don't possess skills, although the one pictured to the left seems to be in take-off position. Sort of a clunky poultry version of a 747. And aren't turkeys hard on the eyes? So is it any wonder that their only function is to take up room in the freezer?
What an obtuse life. Glad I'm not a turkey...I am so grateful not to be a turkey.
And since I've segued right into the grateful mode-roll, I can't stop.
- My bones ache, I use eye drops that feel like acid and at times I look like that Tales From the Crypt guy, but at least I can walk around the block, still have a spare eye that works, and a hairdresser who works miracles.
- January of this year I had a publishing contract; June of this year, the publisher disappeared like Elliot Spitzer after a panty raid, but, I gained stronger self-confidence in my writing and in my heart know that my work belongs with a major NYC pub.
- I may have nightmares, but my dreams outweigh the fright.
- I live like a recluse, my car stays in the garage all week, but that's one less carbon foot-print on the world.
- I live like a recluse, but thanks to modern technology, I have a wealth of cyber friends.
- I don't go out on the town anymore; no longer can I look for Mr. Goodbar, but for the last thirteen years I've lived with the same knight in shining armor.
- My dogs make me go out in sub-zero weather, but at least I'm not walking on wet spots or cleaning up poop.
- I'm thankful to have my health, even though lately I've been visually challenged, my fingers still find the keys, my imagination still runs with hysterical abandon. I still plan on seeing publication, no matter how hard it is to see at times.
- Lastly, I'm grateful to have survived my past with as much grace as I could muster, without one ounce of regret.
There's more, but I'd rather see what my followers are grateful for - whom I am so very grateful for as well as fortunate to have.