Days four, five, and six make one cloudy day.

It is official. I am a slacker. I haven't posted anything for a few days, and I am supposed to be writing about what I am grateful for every day. I seem to be suffering from a brain cloud. Those of you who have seen "Joe vs. The Volcano" would understand this. A brain cloud is a fictional ailment that would cause one to sacrifice himself/herself to the volcano gods because they are too clueless to know they really don't have a problem. It's all in his/her head. Does that help you understand my predicament? Maybe it's just because I am too lazy to take the effort to write. Personally, I am voting for the brain cloud.

Today, I am thankful for lotion. Don't you just hate that sandpaper feeling that your skin gets? There is something about feeling like your hands will crack if you bend your fingers that I just don't like. I am a lotion snob. There, I said it. That is the first step, admitting you have a problem. Now it is out, and I can't take it back. You know, I feel as if a huge burden has lifted. No ordinary lotion will do for me, unless I am desperate, of course. It can't have too strong of a scent, it can't be too greasy, and it can't have very much mineral oil in it. It makes my eyes itch. Seriously, I am allergic to mineral oil. Don't believe me? Pass me your closest bottle of lotion, wait five minutes, and I will be scratching my eyes out. Or maybe it's just a brain cloud.

I am also thankful for guitar teachers. Doug and I have started taking guitar lessons from a 22 year old prodigy named David. David can make me feel untalented in 3 seconds flat. Not that he does it on purpose. At the beginning of every lesson, we have "show and tell" time. Also known as "The Throw Down". This is my turn to attempt to impress him with the prodigious skill I have aquired within the last week, or lack thereof. Emphasis on the last part of that sentence. As soon as I walk in, I have performance anxiety. (The guitar kind.) The moment I sit down, my fingers become unattached from my brain. They begin to rebel and resist the direction they are given. By the end of the lesson, I am sufficiently humbled, and wonder what would have possibly posessed me to think that I would be good at this, or at least enjoy it? Within a few days, I start to think success may actually be possible, only to return to class, and feel like a complete idiot once again. I don't seem to be making much progress. Maybe I should actually practice. Maybe it is another brain cloud.

The smell of gingerbread is the most comforting, yummy smell that could ever come out of my oven. This weekend, after the "Thanksgiving - stuff  yourself until you think you will literally explode and die" celebration has passed, the women on the Burrell side are coming over for the annual gingerbread house construction project. (Pictures coming the following week.) We did this last year, and it was so enjoyable that, apparently, it is a tradition now. That has to be a record. Our second year, and already a mandatory part of the holidays. I have to admit, I love gingerbread houses. I love to look at them, build them, and smell them. If you have never had the experience of a real gingerbread house sitting on a table, and every time you walk by, or when the furnace starts up, there is the warm, spicy scent of gingerbread, you are seriously missing out.

I know that in most homes, the candy on the house doesn't last long. In my house, it tends to last a bit longer because there are only three of us. My favorite part is actually the gingerbread, itself. I can't wait to get rid of the candy so I can break off a piece of crispy cookie to savor. It is the only crispy cookie I have ever enjoyed. Normally, I prefer soft, chewy cookies. I'm not sure that would be a good material to build a house from. Talk about substandard materials. Although, I have built a few really adorable houses out of Pop-Tarts. They make great gifts, and there is no need for tedious baking. However, it just isn't the same without the yummy smell.

It has come to my attention that I am the only one that will take on the task of actually baking the houses. Who in their right mind would volunteer to do that much baking? I must be suffering from complications of a brain cloud again. If someone had volunteered to bake it for me, I would probably accept. It wouldn't be the same, though. Knowing that I made my house from start to finish makes it more fun. However, baking seven houses is quite a task. That is two days worth of baking, and a big mess in my kitchen. Molasses is sticky. Really sticky. Let me emphasize that- Molasses is an ooey-gooey substance that is worthy of sticking a road runner to the pavement. Wile E. Coyote should have used it. His cartoons would have been much more successful, and he would have finally had his own Thanksgiving.


I think he suffered from brain clouds, too.

Day three and all is well.

Today we picked up Doug from the airport. It is amazing to me that you can smell a country on someone. I know what China smells like, and it isn't that great. Thank heaven for washing machines and laundry soap. However, this got me thinking about our noses. I like mine. It has been with me all my life, and I have become quite attached to it. It is terrible when it is stuffed up, and I can't use it. It sometimes enjoys causing mischief by itching and making me sneeze. I think it feels ignored. I find at times I am irritated by it because when it has a problem, I am very irritable. Nothing worse than an itchy nose.

It has the ability to smell some pretty terrible things. Like broccoli gone bad in the fridge, or garbage that has been waiting for garbage day to come in the 100° heat for a week. Or when a diaper needs to be changed. Just when you think that you would prefer to have your nose surgically removed because of allergy problems, or having to clean out the fridge, something wonderful happens. Just a whiff of a pleasant smell can change your mind about being rhino-challenged. I feel so fortunate to be able to smell a freshly baked apple pie or cinnamon rolls. In honor of Thanksgiving, what about the delicious scent of a turkey in the oven? The smell of freshly baked bread from my bread machine in the morning when I wake up makes life worthwhile. I still remember Nanny, my Mom's mom. She passed away from cancer when I was quite young, but I can't smell Avon's Skin So Soft without having vivid memories of her.

Smells are such powerful things. They help us recall moments in our lives, or people we love, or places we have been.  I have missed the way Doug smells (the good smells) all week. When he comes home from a long trip, he isn't really home until he showers and puts on clean clothes. Somehow it just isn't right until he removes the smell of Asian cigarettes and air polution. Know what I mean? When he smells better, all is right with the world, because my man is home.

I am also grateful for eyelashes. As women, we curl them, paint them so they look darker and longer, and we can now use chemicals to lengthen them. It might change the color of your eyes, but who cares? You will have longer lashes. Someone even went as far as to create false lashes. You can buy them in strips, groups, singles, or in bright colors. You can have extensions done from a professional, or take the time to do it yourself. Just be careful not to glue your eyes shut. Hey, I've seen it happen, my friend. It isn't pretty.

Every day, I put on mascara. Unless I am deathly ill, of course. In which case, I don't answer the door. Heaven forbid that anyone should see me without my lashes done. My natural eyelashes are the color of my skin. When I don't dress them for the day, people think I am terribly ill. (Someday I may just take advantage of that.) Doug used to laugh and tell me I didn't have any eyes when I washed off my makeup. What am I, some alien freak? At least I am all set in case of invasion or abduction.

I have been thinking about this lately because of my neice. Last spring, she pulled out all her eyelashes and eyebrows. They were bugging her. I guess 3rd graders just don't care about those long and lovely lashes they are graciously given. It is shocking to see someone without eyebrows or eyelashes. Their faces are no longer framed, and they have a shocked expression, not just surprised. It is now almost Thanksgiving, and they are just starting to show some growth.

It's one thing if someone is going through chemotherapy, they lose all of their hair. Everything matches, and it is fine. But when they lose hair in just one location, it is bizarre. In my freshman year of high school, a kid shaved off his eyebrows. He won $20 for doing it. He said it wasn't worth it. Sometimes you are grateful for lessons other people have learned.

Today, I have also been thinking about hugs. When I was little, my Uncle Gene would try to corner me at every visit, and ask me where his kiss was. I'm sorry, but I never had a kiss for you. Don't even try it. You are an old man. You are not my parent, you are not my baby brother or sister, and I am too young to be engaged. Those are the only conditions that warrent a kiss from me. Keep your lips to yourself, thanks.

Hugs, on the other hand, are meant to be shared. I love them. They welcome someone into your space, and you can feel actual warmth from them. I decided when I was young, that hugs were the best. Today, I was able to hug my hubby after not seeing him for a week. I forget how much I like to hug him until I can't.

Years ago, when my sister, Darcy, was home for a visit, she said something that surprised me. "Amber, you give the world's best hugs. Nobody hugs like you." I was so surprised by that. Hugging Darcy was like hugging a fragile piece of porcelain. She became so thin, I was always worried that I might squeeze too hard and break one of her ribs. I wanted her to know I cared about her, and that she meant something to me. Hugging her was an opportunity to show her how happy I was to see her, and that she was an important part of my life. It never occurred to me that she liked it. I would love to be able to hug her again. I think the best hug ever will be the one I get to give her when I see her in her perfect body, healthy, happy, and strong.

If only Uncle Gene would have asked for a hug instead of a kiss.......

Day two.

Today, I am thankful for something. I'm sure of it. Do you ever have days that are so full of stuff you have to do, that it is hard for you to clear your mind to remember the important things? I am having one of those days. Or weeks. Or maybe years. It could be my whole life, but I am too mentally fatigued to remember. This might take some time........

I suppose the first item on my list today would have to be airplanes. Every time I see a plane overhead, I wonder what it a pioneer would do if they were suddenly transported in time, and saw how we traveled. Would they feel that they suffered coming over the plains for nothing? Really, they could have endured a while longer, and then chartered a plane to get everyone to where they needed to be. Of course, in this day and age, they would have had terrorists attacking the Mormons. That puts a whole new spin on things. On that same line, what about Christopher Columbus, or the pilgrims? Obviously, everything was meant to happen the way that it did. We learn so much from them, and I am forever grateful for the sacrifices they made. I can't imagine the difference it made in their own lives. I just have to wonder if it would have done serious mental damage to them to see that we can cross the country in a few hours, not to mention the other side of the world. Can you just see their brains exploding with the concept?

Really, the reason this comes up today is that, as I write, Doug is flying home to us from China. I always feel like the flight from China is so far. He left a few hours ago, and we will arrive to pick him up from the airport tomorrow at 1:00 in the afternoon. I always feel bad that he is in the air for so long, and then I remember that he could have done it by boat. His one week trip would have been infinitely longer. See you in a year, sweetie.

I am also thankful for movies. I know, what a corny thing to be grateful for. (Yes, I used the word corny. Deal with it.) Truly, I am a movie buff. I wish I had known as a child that I would have such a love of the silver screen. I would have paid more attention to what I was watching. As it is, I have wonderful memories of the movies I saw as a wee one. The first memory I have of seeing a movie is when my Grandpa Williams took us to see "Bambi" in the Preston theater. We got a flat tire on the way home. I am sure that he was irritated by that, but it became memorable to me. I still love that movie, and the music is very dear to my heart. ♪ ♫ Drip, drip, drop, little April showers..... beating a tune as you fall all around. ♫ ♪

I loved it when movies came on and our family made an event out of it. We would pop popcorn and gather around the television and anxiously await the beginning of "The Sound Of Music", or "The Ten Commandments", or our all time favorite, "Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory". We would marvel at the amounts of chocolate and candy at the beginning, and the edible room was a dream come true. What kid didn't dream of their own personal chocolate river? Or wallpaper where the snozzberries taste like snozzberries? Who didn't have the secret wish that their sister would be chewing a piece of gum, and she would blow up like a blueberry, only to be taken to the hospital to have the juice squeezed out of her? Oh, you didn't wish for that? Sorry, my mistake.

Somehow, owning movies on DVD and watching them whenever you want is just not the same. Although, I have tried to continue the tradition with my daughter. We put on our pj's, and pick out a special movie. We cuddle together under blankets with our fuzzy Elmo socks sticking out the bottom of the blanket. That is a special time to us.

I have also been known to use movies to change my mood. When I am working on a wedding cake, I love to watch "Father Of The Bride" movies, or "My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding". It just makes me happy, and the cakes are more fun. Lucky for the bride, they turn out better, too. Christmas just isn't Christmas without "A Christmas Story", or "Home Alone", or "The Santa Clause". (I happen to be a Christmas freak. Tell me you didn't see that coming.) On the flip side, beware when I am watching an action flick. I wouldn't sit too close to me, if I were you. I'm just sayin'.

Lastly, I love little girls. They are so gosh darn cute. I love how giggly they get, and how they get so excited over things. Oh, how I miss being able to get away with the shrieking and giggling of teenage life. Now, when I do that, people think I need medication. They could be right. I probably do, but my fatigued mind can't remember to go to the doc. Guess I am a terminal case.

And so it begins.

This year I have decided that I want to continue the week of Thanksgiving that I did last year. This year has given me so many opportunities to be grateful, and I want to take the time to voice my thanks.

I think I will start with the obvious, my wonderful husband. At the moment, he is in China attempting to achieve a few miracles. OK, maybe not miracles, but at least a few amazing feats of engineering brilliance. He left last week for South Korea to finalize a contract for an electrical device. (I would tell you what it is, but I would have to kill you after. As far as I know, this is an unmentionable.) He then headed to China for some other top secret items, that probably aren't so top secret anymore. I will someday take the time to explain these items, but today is not someday. It is today, and my subject is my hubby, not some piece of plastic and metal that will someday (hopefully) make us debt free. It's good to dream.

When he leaves on these trips, I worry so much about him. It unnerves me just a bit to send him to a communist country. If anything makes you appreciate your freedom, that'll do it. On one trip, Doug mentioned that a plane flew overhead, so he looked up. He was stunned to see a Russian MiG 29 flying low overhead. He turned to his translator, and commented on how excited he was to see that. His translator just shook his head and said, "No, no! We don't talk about that! We don't talk about military." They were surprised that he knew what it was. They had no idea. Now I will give a moment of pause for your memory to recall those scenes in "Top Gun". I know that you are now singing in your mind, "Highway to the Danger Zone". Admit it.



Which brings me to the next item. Freedom. I am so grateful for the freedom to get an education for whatever I may choose, for the freedom to log on to the internet and find whatever information I am interested in, and for the freedom to talk about our government and discuss the good with the bad. I am also thankful for those who defend that freedom. What an amazing military we have. There is just something about our men and women in uniform that gives me chills. I can't help but be impressed by them. It is so incredible that there are those who are willing to sacrifice their time with their families, and sometimes even their lives, so that we can enjoy the opportunity to live in a free country.

The next item on the list is a silly one, but in keeping with the theme of China, I am so grateful for soft, comfy beds. Seriously, don't you just love those mornings when you wake up, and your bed and pillow are so cuddly and pleasant, that you would just about give anything to stay there? Then the harsh reality of daily life kicks in, and you have to leave it all behind.