I'm thankful that I just filled up my gas tank and it cost me less than $30.00.
I'm thankful that everybody liked the food I made--braised brussels sprouts, tex mex roasted sweet potatoes, my stepmother's famous baked pineapple, bread stuffing--at the Thanksgiving Day celebration that That Cowboy and I were invited to.
I'm thankful for time in a hot tub after the Thanksgiving feast.
I'm thankful for the very first kumquat on the kumquat tree on my patio.
I'm thankful that my hard work is paying off and I'm getting
I'm thankful that right off the bat I found a great little Episcopal church here in Palm Springs, The Church of St. Paul In The Desert. Although it looks like I'll have to wait until Christmas Eve for them to bring out the incense.
I'm thankful that I live here in Palm Springs. Every new day I spend here seems to serve as further proof that coming here smacks of destiny. On Thanksgiving Day proper, we had rain in the morning. Almost an inch! By Palm Springs standards, that's a flood of all but biblical proportions. All day long, the sky was just magnificent, with the clouds riding down the slopes of the San Jacinto and Santa Rosita mountains.
I'm thankful for the life I'm cobbling together here. I spent the morning working at the Coachella Valley Rescue Mission down in Indio, in a neighborhood in Indio where you probably wouldn't want to run out of gas. My job was sorting out the dry-goods store room, putting like with like and assembling bags of Thanksgiving appropriate groceries when requested. It felt so much like how I've spent so many thanksgiving days gone by: making turkey dinner with all the fixings for the clients of syringe exchange programs where I've worked. This weekend, there's an art festival in town and That Cowboy and I are gonna head over and check it out. Next weekend, it's back to Indio for the Tamale Festival. (I only have a vague idea of what a tamale is, but after next weekend, I'll know.) Last weekend, we did a field trip out to the Salton Sea, a place of strange and terrible beauty. That Cowboy is building me an outdoor shower for my patio. That'll be a nice way to unwind, feeling the warm water run over me with the moon caught in the fronds of the date palms overhead. And I'm starting to think about finding some volunteer work to do and I'm looking for a part time job, ways that I can meet people and give a little bit more structure to my weekly schedule.
And I'm thankful for That Cowboy. He's thoughtful, kind, handsome, handy, reflective, fun, considerate, honest, hard-working, inspired, spirited, patient, easy-going, sexy, as taken with me as I am with him, and he's got a great dog. I wasn't looking for a man when I moved here to the desert. But such an odd change has taken place: whereas previously, my life was a private conversation I had with myself, now it's become a dialog. For perhaps the first time in my life--that I can remember anyway--I don't feel like I'm facing the world alone. Before, relationships have always been frought: what is he feeling? where is this going? should I tell him about this? how much of myself do I reveal? will I get hurt? what should I think about that?... None of that. Just a peaceful, easy feeling. Him in his workboots and Wrangler's, the nape of his sunburned neck damp with sweat always. The two of us, side by side, or across the table from each other, telling stories about the people we've know or the places we've been or talking about God or music or art or the desert or what we might do this weekend or dogs or hiking or work or building stuff or architecture or food or cooking or what we don't like in people or things the gays do or how it's always either sunny or partly sunny here in Palm Springs or movies or horses or bears or wolves or projects we want to start in on or what we saw on television or read on the internet or my latest obsession (which would be vinegaroons). Or how much we like being boyfriends with each other. It's all just working out so well, even though to my mind there's no work involved. I don't know that I could ask for a better man. I'm sure gonna do what I can to keep him around.
I am thankful for the gift of my life. I wouldn't want any other one. Not changed by one jot.