Thankfulness run amok

Yes, I have a list of things that merit Thanksgiving. But rather than the commonplace “family and friends,” I’ve dug deep into my psyche to bring out these gems formed under the pressure of my heavy soul.

Caillou’s static age

It brings me some relief from his annoying cartoon that Caillou announces he is just four in the intro to his mind-numbing show. When my son was three, Caillou was an older kid, and it’s always cool to hang around the older kids. Fortunately, Caillou is a Dorian Gray. Now that my son is five and Caillou is still four, I’m hoping he’ll realize what a drag it is to associate with such a whiny baby. I hope this happens before the pent up rage that has been building in Caillou’s repressed family explodes into violence.


I like broccoli. But that’s no reason to put it on this list. I’m thankful for broccoli because my children don’t hate it. It’s the only vegetable they willingly eat, these children who balk at corn. We eat broccoli almost every day. It doesn’t have that horrible husk that confuses their little mouths like corn and peas do. And carrots are orange. The God of little boys didn’t intend food to be orange (popsicles excepted).

A little broccoli snack

You have to eat a lot of broccoli to make up for all those peas, carrots, and beans you won’t touch.

Frozen Pizza

I grew up where pizza joints were run by ethnic Italians. I remember an old Mom or Pop needing one of their kids to translate orders to them. Their pizza was their pride. I now live in a region where pizza places are owned by franchisees with names like Gary and Todd. The pizza is baked on a conveyor belt. The locals may be shocked by this, but I like some frozen pizza better than a lot of the pizza I could order. Plus, I don’t have to talk on the phone to get a frozen pizza, and that’s a huge advantage.

Moms’ groups

I once read about a study (no doubt conducted by male sociologists) concluding that when a group of women get together, chances are good they’ll start complaining about their men. I’m no scientist, but I have noticed that my wife loves me more when she comes home from a womenfolk powwow. She gives me a big hug and kiss and thanks me for not being like So-and-So’s husband. Whenever I’m feeling a little deprived, I inquire if she’s got a meeting coming up. Husbands lamer than me are the best part of my personality.

Lady's group finalists

Enjoy your ribbons, ladies. There’s a homemade stew of crusty dishes and dirty underwear waiting for you on the kitchen counter. (Image: Harris & Ewing)

Public transportation

We rarely use public transportation. When we do, it’s like a Holiday. My boys love riding the bus. After a trip around town on an articulated bus, you’d think we just got back from Disney World. This great adventure costs about two bucks. When one of my sons is the Super Bowl MVP and somebody shoves a microphone in his face to ask, “You’ve just won the Super Bowl; what are going to do next?” he’ll say, “I’m going across town, on the twister bus.”

We love the twister bus

We love articulated (“twister”) buses so much, we bought our own.

Yeah, I’m thankful for family and friends too. I guess.

Happy Thanksgiving!


8 comments on “Thankfulness run amok

  1. Tom W says:

    Happy Thanksgiving!

    I assume broccoli is on the menu today.

  2. Amen to Caillou’s static age. I sometimes wonder if Caillou’s creator is bothered by being the most hated person by all the world’s parents. Happy Thanksgiving!

  3. I’m thankful for this blog and the laughs it brings me. Happy Thanksgiving!

  4. Traci says:

    You should start hanging out with so-and-so’s husband to give your wife a consistent comparison that will always keep your armor shining. 🙂

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