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Thursday, November 28, 2002

Thanksgiving Day!

Thanksgiving

I'm thankful for the wonderful
Red nail polish I found.
I'm thankful for my cat
Who let's me know that I matter, sort of.
I'm thankful for my children
Who are such a joy for me.
I'm thankful for the years I've lived
And the things I've seen.
I'm thankful for murder mysteries,
And history books and stupid comedies.
I'm thankful for having a job,
And liking the job I have (usually).
I'm thankful for being alive,
Being healthy and realizing
I'm happy, right now anyway.

I was so glad yesterday when they let us leave work a little early. I have been so looking forward to having four days off with nothing to do. My first errand was to bring a turkey home on the bus. My arms were very tired when I got it home. I can't buy turkeys ahead as I have a small freezer and refrigerator.

I hoped to spend today with a few people but that didn't work out so I'm enjoying being by myself. I took my time getting up, which means 7:00 and had the turkey in the oven by 7:30. Since I'm trying to cut down on bread I'm not making stuffing, but am cooking some sweet potatoes, but without the sugar and marshmallows. I love it with sugar and marshmallows but if I make it I'll eat it all so I'm just sticking to roasted sweet potatoes.

While the turkey was cooking I thought I would take a leisurely bike ride down the Rillito. I also wanted to make sure I had the new tire and tube on evenly. I've now replace the tube and tire for both the front and back because my tires were rotten. I've had them since I got the bike in '97 and with the heat we have in the summer I'm not surprised they are finally gone.

I took a leisurely ride west, enjoying the fall color and the other people out on a cool morning. I didn't realize till I turned around that there was such a stiff wind from the east and it felt like I was riding up a steep hill for three miles. It was a good workout.

I read "Death of a Stranger" by Anne Perry. Hester Monk runs a health clinic for prostitutes when a very rich gentleman is killed nearby. At the same time her husband, William Monk, is asked by a lovely lady, to find out if her fiancee, a partner in the rich gentleman's railroad company, is guilty of fraud. As Monk get's involved in the inquiry he finds himself remembering parts of his past that were still clouded from amnesia. It's a fascinating look at the underside of Victorian London, both that of prostitution and the rich who profit from it, and other illegal activities. A good book, as all her's are, though not easy reading. I know I'll remember some scenes about things we prefer to pretend don't exist, now as well as then.


Rachel Aschmann 2002.
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