November 28, 2002

For those of you inclined to celebrate the holiday, I'm pleased to wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving. For those of you whose cultures do not celebrate the holiday, I'm going to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, too.

On this day, Americans are wont to eat too much in celebration of the fact that we're generally well-off enough to be able, as a people, to get away with eating too much. It's too sweepingly general to say that all Americans are fat, but folks say it anyway, and we're entering the season that most self-conscious Americans will exit in January with a new year's resolution to eat less. Ahh, the irony.

A good exercise for anyone this time of year is to count the things you can be thankful for. Whether or not you're religious, it's a good practice. This year, I'm thankful especially for the joy I have in my family. Between Novell-work and Schlock-work I have precious little free time, and I treasure the moments I spend with my wife and my children.

Those moments are so important to me that I've given up things of lesser import. Television, for instance. Many of you may be watching bowl games today. Enjoy. I'll be romping with my kids until the yams try to come back up for a breath of fresh air.

Speaking of squash-like things, my 5-year-old son announced yesterday that he knows how to make pumpkin pie. I'll paraphrase, using textual affectations in loving imitation.

"First, my get a puckin. Cut out eyes. Anna puckin go inna pan, an' inna oven. An it squash, an turn into puckin pie. Then my put sqwee-squeem onnit."

I'm thankful for my kids, and I'm especially thankful that my son is not responsible for cooking the pumpkin pie this year. His recipe lacks butter and sugar, two things without which I would not be the fat american I am today (although he did get the ice-cream bit, so I suppose he's learning).

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