gratitude-a-thon day 2061: new tv


Technology gratitude. We got a new tv. The last time we bought a television was 15 years ago. Yes, of course I knew that they’d improved in every way, but seriously, I feel like people are in the room with me. When I turn this thing on, it’s much more like watching a play. I’m half scared someone is going to reach into my bowl of popcorn.

Those poor news people–you can see every wrinkle, blemish and roll of fat (course, Anderson Coooper is still adorable). No wonder actresses are having so much plastic surgery, makeup can’t hide this kind of magnifying glass.

And let’s discuss size, this thing is like having a giant iphone. It’s thinner than a bed sheet. My old tv was thick, like John Goodman before he went on that diet. And it was heavy,  like a freaking piano. My dog could pick up this tv.

Plus it’s smart (smarter than I am). It’s got all the stuff you want, like Netflix and Prime and Hulu embedded. Uh-huh! Ah, the 21st century.

Anyway, time marches on, and it’s sort of fun to see it in my den. Gratitude to all those perfect little people that fit into my ultra-thin screen and just wait for me to flick the switch and watch ’em.


gratitude-a-thon day 2060: showing up


When people show up.

When things get bad and you are heading for middle earth and down and completely OUT, and someone gets there, to lend support to a faltering you, to go beyond, to right the ship, Jeesh, all sorts of gratitude.

I watched yesterday, as people rallied around a friend who really needed some emotional reinforcements. No names, no places, just a boatload of gratitude, watching good people come forward to act as human scaffolding.

What are we unless we are our there for one another? Who are we, unless we appear for what we believe?

Showing up. Gratitude.


gratitude-a-thon day 2059: the sky


IMG_1770.jpgI’m laying in the backyard looking up at artistically streaky white clouds, slowly moving over baby blue sky. I’m trying to let nature calm me down after getting myself all riled up reading the news. Trump has done it again. Or really, does he ever stop doing it, does he ever stop doing the inappropriate, the stupid, the completely unpresidential, the UNAMERICAN? This time, he really put his Russian foot in his mouth, though. But you know, he is Teflon Don, so this too will slide off his back. The media is saying even die-hard conservatives are scolding his performance yesterday, but for how long and to what effect? As hopeful as I usually am about Saint Robert Mueller, I am just so used to everything staying the same. What are you doing Bob? What’s taking you so long? We’re going to be speaking with a Russian accent and wearing babushkas soon if you don’t hurry up.


I guess I could rock this look. Will Portobello Road soon need to have a Babushka aisle?


It’s difficult to manage the big world with your own little world. But I recognize that it’s really my call on how to arrange these two realities.

I look back at the sky. Those slow-moving clouds have dissipated and the sun is leaving shadows on my neighbor’s house. I hear more cars now, breaking the silence of early morning. The day is beginning. I can choose to focus on the immoral man who leads our country, or the gratitude I feel looking up at the sky. I choose the sky for today, and the flowers and the grass. And the abundance of good that can so easily be obscured by our president.

gratitude-a-thon day 2059: home of the brave


The opposite of an administration that separates migrant children from their parents and puts them into cages? ‘The Thai Navy Seals and all the other courageous people who helped to save the 12 kids from the Wild Boar soccer Team and their coach. Jesus, Joseph and Mary, get a load of what courage and integrity is, Donald Trump.

I am both filled with relief and flooded with admiration for these brave dudes in wetsuits who clearly knew they were risking their lives to save these kids and still, day after day, oxygen tank after oxygen tank, headed into a cave where they were well aware that they could lose their lives. (Sometimes in the middle of the night, I’m afraid to go to the bathroom in the dark).

Bravery is a funny thing. The Seals are clearly risk-your-life brave. And I couldn’t be more impressed with their heroic measures. These guys are superhero brave, firemen and policemen brave, soldier brave, mama bear brave. And it fills me with hope and optimism and a good feeling, like a fizzy gingerale feeling, in my heart to think there are people in the world like this. I am going to focus on these guys for days.

But there are brave people all around us. Single moms, critically ill people who fight like hell for another day, those who carry the burdens of abuse, loneliness, addiction on their shoulders like eighteen wheelers. What about people who have to bear loss–of innocence, of loved ones, of a place to live. There is bravery all around us, everyday courage. These are heroes too. They carry on and smile in the face of fuck you. They walk past you in the grocery store, on the street, but you don’t know what they hold, what they  live with, just exactly the kind of bravery they employ, just to endure.

Gratitude, so much gratitude, a big pile of gratitude as big as the moon to the brave. Whoever you are, wherever you are, but today, most especially to the Seal gang. Talk about “helpers.” Mr. Rogers would be proud.





gratitude-a-thon day 2056: my cousin, Bobby


424740_518487394843884_1405958145_nAnd today’s gratitude goes out to cancer. Specifically, not having it. Not me, not having it, although, I have not had it a more times than Trump has misspelled words on Twitter, but my cousin not having it. Sing hallelujah, with a chorus of NO CANCER.

My cousin Bobby is one of the most solid, nicest and best people I know. He has been an attorney to our entire whack-a-doodle family over the years, civic-minded, spiritual, a volunteer to many good causes, a stellar son, brother, husband and dad, a voice of reason and both generous and wonderful, with an infectious laugh I could mimic for you, except you’re not here and you can’t hear me (Are you? If you are, please disregard my hair, I’m having it dyed today, but until then I look like Barbara Bush before she died, may she rest in peace).

Anywho, the rest of the story is longer, but let’s just leave it at this: we thought he had pancreatic cancer. He is 75. He had a very involved surgery to remove the “pancreatic cancer,” only a funny thing happened, which is that there wasn’t any! But on the way there, my cousins and sister and I, were all FREAKING OUT LIKE WHEN THAT ORANGE-HAIRED, NO BRAIN BLOB BEAT HILLARY. Uh huh, it was that bad. So, for several very tense days, we waited and pondered the idea that this superhuman guy could be quite sick. It was hellish.

But, he is not! No, he beat the pants off of the big C. As I would expect him to do. And I’m telling you, gratitude parade coming to a town near you. Oh yeah, this is grateful on a big dose of steroids. Long live, Bobby T.!



gratitude-a-thon day 2055: gratituding

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Sometimes I get myself caught up in the badness of the world. There’s so much. Not to be negative, but Jesus, this place can be a bonafide shit show. And things only feel 72 bajillion times worse with this administration at the helm. Add their antics to the general unpredictableness of people’s health and finances, add a sprinkle of tragedy–like accidents–throw in the completely shocking, the all-out miserable, the utterly unspeakable, and you want to put yourself in a padded room and pray for the apocalypse.

Here’s where I do a plug for gratitude (like “gratitude” is paying me or something). When I am in the midst of life getting all big and messy on me, I have to stop. I have to just fucking stop. And I force myself to assess all that I have. Sometimes that “all” is my morning coffee, which if you have just met me, is like, one of my top friends. Sometimes it’s my dog and his trusty and consistent love. Other times it’s the very real luxury of having a family who I know has my back. It can be a breath mint I find in the bottom of my bag, when I really need it, or fresh sheets, catmint growing out-of-control in my garden, or the fact that the pan I burned can actually be cleaned and I don’t need to throw it out and buy a new one. A sale on jewelry? Gratitude jackpot. Truffle pasta–well, don’t even get me started.

Anyway, immigrant kids (kids like your kids) are currently being held in cages away from their parents. Yes, Trump supporters, cages. So, the need for the stopping and gratituding is very real. Sometimes, t’s the only thing that keeps me going. Well, maybe that and a little truffle pasta, but I digress…….