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Thu, Nov 18th - 7:21AM


11/18/ WEBERS! Hold the fort, blessings, my friends. Waking in dawn's early light, occurs to me there's much to be thankful for during this month of bended knee syndrome. A time when we (many believers) roast our store bought, ostentatiously large birds with heartfelt intentions for enjoying annual luscious feasts bereft family arguments. Why ... Come Thanksgiving, we'll sit beside chosen guests, chewing hard as rock, raw cauliflower pre dinner --- Hoping the oven was turned on during roasting. We'll dip broccoli with talk of current events in the great USA banned at table again this year. I, myself am grateful for arthritis, which only goes to show that at least one can still feel.

As we pass attractive cheese trays we need not wax maudlin every second. Doubtful, we are truly thankful for Congressmen and women, whose names and faces we don't exactly cherish for the last thirteen years of their US Congress memberships, per se. These folks had plenty of time to withdraw funds for the business of war mongering which this fantastic shindig of a guv'mint of ours whooshes in year after year. More than a decade's worth now of business as usual. And sure, we watched as war/ occupations/ security/ invasions became a lucrative businesses.

So we look instead, perhaps to air we breath. Uh oh, those in Appalachia aint 'zactly head over heels in love with coal dust left behind from Mountaintop Removal, of course not. So we understand any and all reluctance to worship suspicious air we maybe shouldn't breath with glee. Because prevailing winds waft that risky beeswax right to us like milk at the door of our discontent.

So, let's see --- ahh fields of green, wheat shimmering under golden skies to feed to cattle, fatten geese. Wow! That turkey smells scrumptious about now, does it not? But hey, we somehow add ourselves to the list of great pretenders and refuse to shut open windows today. Meanwhile, holiday morning dew comes with damp reminders of Monsanto evils lurking behind every corn stalk, inside each monoculture, soy bean field. Hell, stinky, poisonous stuff coming off surrounding, saucy fields could fell a St. Bernard, don't you know?

Now, be this as it may, we tell ourselves everything is rather --- Rather! Hunky dory. As in fine, dearhearts. We still listen to quaint babbling brooks, sail the seven seas, fish rivers. Oh, damn, shooting down myth number three, we gasp for breathing space, place our right hands over our misaligned hearts. Shush, my dears. So what one must read pollution indexes for the day, determining whether or not to imbibe on aquatic life from non pristine waters. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I miss seafood as much as the next guy. Too expensive, right?

So @ rock bottom level, we smile about like mimes. We bust a gut serving tossed salads we grew ourselves. We might read about the Clean Energy Act being over ridden in our life times. We could make ourselves aware of agriculture stats gone awry .. all ignored for the sake of glorious holiday meals yet to be set down before our watery eyes without fret like the second coming of Christ.

I do throughly hope to be thankful soon enough for a subscriber list to purchase stories and past blogs that TEFF once wrote. Oh, because, dedicated teffom@Writing.Com tries to finish her difficult website construction, re-re-re-edit these prolifically, entertaining works while posting under her second penname of Paula LaRue since 2005. Thus all is not lost. Au Contraire, mon amis.

Now, I'll tell you what I am thankful for. Vision, maybe talent. Talent as in the gift of gab. Irish wit? Vision to see across the road, stare at a mountain range as orangey gold during daylight hours as ripe peaches. Vision to bitch about important things, I cannot change, only inform. Vision to knock off reading novels abed when two cats snuggle close. Vision to watch DVDs, pick up purled stitches from colorful threads. Knitting Club today.

Hold on there's a knock at the door. But I don't feel like leaving my cordless keyboard just yet. Oh my gawd. There's a tall fiend at my window. No! Jesus help us each and everyone. He's hulking about in a black coat. Not a vampire, let's hope. You see 'twas me editing sophisticated, vampire stories from 2008/9, a mere few moments ago. You know the funny ones. Uh, oh, this scary intruder is holding up pieces of cheap white bread. He's mushing a slice to the glass pane.

Christ! It's the toaster guy. He's miming lifting a cup. Oh, he wants coffee, so he screams. Me too! Guy nearly gave me a coronary. Well, yet another thing to be thankful for, don't you know? A morning visitor on a perfectly lonely day here at the house. Apparently, he's on foot, looks like. The toaster dude's all about constantly complaining about his used toaster not working properly. That'd be an appliance he scarfed up, from our impromptu, yardsale for a crappy fifty cent last summer. However, since he's agreed to pay $1 per cup for Hazelnut Holiday, an addictive aroma which brought him waltzing straight into this blog in the first place ...

and being kinda desperate for money around these parts ---

Especially after reading this morning that GM received, took, absconded with a cool, $49 BILLION during bailout hey days ... 2008-9. Holy Toledo, Batman. FORTY-NINE BILLION!!! Is there a merciful God?

Sparky, 'scuse em whah ... gotta run. Now that NY Times news alert (11/18) did thoroughly piss me off. You'd think they'd give you a damn car for that price. Hell no, instead we-uns are left groveling in the dust, holding the debtors' bag. Tons of folks driving average, used, POS automobiles. Damnation! Paying oil corporations exuberant payouts at the pumps. Damnation! Now, will you please tell me. Who isn't grateful for a decent cup of coffee these days?



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