It’s been a rough few years for me, with the deaths of loved ones, huge unexpected expenses that sapped my savings, and creeping depression and anxiety. Still, I am thankful for many things.

I still have family that I love, though they’re too far away for me to justify a trip home for the one day I’ll be off this week (plus I’m cat-butlering). My oldest brother and my sister-in-law check in on me regularly, as do several of my cousins. My nephew Dalton and his beautiful wife Amanda are happy and healthy in Massachusetts, as are nephew Matt and his family in Kansas. I really couldn’t ask for more. Well, I could, but I won’t.

I have friends/family I chose who are willing to put up with my weird anxiety-ridden self and help if needed. Friends Sarah and Kathy top that list, followed closely here by Rose and Sophie, west of here by Mary and Carol, and many others. We’ve shared laughs, tears, furkids and more than a few meals. There won’t be a Thanksgiving with the girls here this year (other commitments have scattered us), but I’ll be fine with a little pan of Mama’s dressing (that’s all I need) and a slice of pumpkin pie (the mini pie is in the fridge, and I’ll make the cornbread for the dressing before I go to bed Tuesday so it has time to dry out a bit). The next time we get together will be delicious and full of laughs, probably about the antics of the critters we know.

I can count many fur-nephews and nieces for whom to give thanks. Charlie, Spike, Baxter the Boo, and many others bring light to my life, and that’s before you add in Myrtle Ann, Marley, Franklin, Zoe and the other cats and dogs in Sarah’s neighborhood, where I spend a lot of time, or Boo the Warehouse Cat around my house. Plus there are those cats I’m scheduled to sit and all those cats and dogs of other friends that I low-key stalk on social media (the critters, not the friends). Basically, if I know you and you have pets, I love them (well, maybe not so much the snakes) whether I’ve met them or not, and I mourn when you mourn. I mean, c’mon! They’re frickin’ adorable, and they’re family!

I’m also thankful that any time I use words like “fur-nephew” or “furkids,” it sets off a certain troll into a round of hilarious hissy fits that have something to do with bestiality (how dude got there I’m not even gonna think about). I shouldn’t enjoy that, but I do. It’s the devilish little sister in me.

I have a good job with good people I love talking with, and I get to do what I love. Some of the people I work with/edit (like Rex Nelson and John Brummett) are genuinely wonderful people that I wouldn’t mind dining with (considering how much of a hermit I am, that’s high praise), and a joy to edit. I do need to supplement my income (hence house/cat-sitting and the occasional freelance editing job), but I’m not destitute (paycheck to paycheck, though, which is terrifying). I’m relatively healthy and have health insurance to help pay for what keeps me relatively healthy. It doesn’t completely cover needed expenses, but having been without insurance for about a 10-year period earlier in my career, it’s far better than nothing.

I have a sense of humor that helps keeps me sane when all around me is crumbling. If you can’t laugh about the AC vent hose coming loose and venting hot air into the room instead of outside during the hottest part of the year, you might lose it pretty quickly. (Picture the Progressive “Pants on Fire” commercial: “It’s like a sauna in here.” It really was.)

Chocolate (you knew I’d bring this up). Whether it’s a tiny bit of a Hershey bar or a big steaming and sassy mug of gourmet hot chocolate, there’s so much to love about it. It calms and exhilarates at the same time, and just makes me happy. I have friends who are allergic or for whom it’s a migraine trigger (one friend used to risk the migraine if I brought brownies into the office; luckily my food trigger is bell peppers, not chocolate), and I feel sorry for them, especially if they loved it before they found out; I developed a garlic allergy in my 30s, and I really miss garlic and the memories of spaghetti weekends with Mama.

Words, wonderful and witty, and even the horrible and hateful, will eternally have my love and thanks. Not only do I get to make my living with them, I’m surrounded by people just as nerdy about them as I am, whether that’s through work, friendships or online. They’ve been the start of many of my friendships in life, and the source of much amusement. I may be persnickety about some things, but not about words in general.

I’ll always be grateful for music, books and art, which can make a sometimes dark world much brighter, and far more intelligent. So many of my memories are tangled up in these, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Musicals or plays with friends, concerts and recitals, gallery openings, movies on a big-screen TV (I’m still not ready to be in movie theater yet), a good book and a cup of cocoa—all of them add so much to my life.

🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

But there are many more things for which we can all be thankful.

Like living in a nation where you can believe what you want, worship how you want and say what you want. We have freedom here that citizens of some nations can only dream of. Now if we can just get more people to understand civics and personal responsibility (that whole consequences of your actions thing), and that no freedom (no, not even the Second Amendment) is absolute, we’ll be golden.

People willing to fight are worth a lot of gratitude. When we have folks wanting to ban books they haven’t even read because someone told them they were evil, or who want to keep kids from learning about certain parts of history (George Santayana’s quote about history comes to mind here), or who want to hide government workings from the people, especially in a nation where we extol freedom, we’re blessed to have people who’ll stand up and say no, especially when they back their statements with action, like supporting good teachers who are painted as groomers when nothing could be further from the truth, or mobilizing to put a Freedom on Information Act in the state constitution to protect it from politicians with shady motives. May their tribe increase.

The kindness of strangers is immeasurable. It might be someone stepping in with a few bucks to help you pay for groceries, or someone comforting you after an accident. It may just be a caring smile, or a hand up if you’ve fallen. As awful as the world may seem sometimes (especially when politics enters), it’s a blessing to know there are still a lot of people who are kind to others just because. Not because they look like you, worship like you or think like you, but simply because you’re a fellow human and in need of help.

And for a holiday with a lot of rich food, indoor plumbing is the best thing ever. You never know what might be lurking in an outhouse, especially on a moonless night in the 1970s when you have to traipse 50 yards without a flashlight for relief. Might be a brother, might be a snake or a skunk. At least my grandparents didn’t name it Mount Fillmore (that was the name of the communal outhouse at the East Wind commune near Tecumseh, Mo., when I visited during college with an honors sociology class).

Yep, my cranky toilet is looking really good right now.