




Today is supposed to be a rather messy weather day. I wish I could stay in and just curl up on the couch and watch television, but alas, I have an appointment at the Headache Clinic this morning. I’ll have to be very careful driving down there. The National Weather Service issued the following warning (edited for brevity and clarity):
From 1 pm today to 1 pm Saturday, snow is expected with a total accumulations of 3 to 7 inches and wind gusts as high as 35 mph. The mix of snow and rain is expected develop this morning before transitioning to all snow in the afternoon and continuing through tonight. The snow is expected to taper off Saturday morning. It is advised that drivers slow down and use caution while traveling and allow extra time if travel is necessary.
My travel this morning is necessary. This appointment is my quarterly Botox treatment for my migraines. I am so grateful for these treatments as it seems to be working, but they are a pain, literally. If my headaches had not been increasing over the last two weeks, I might attempt to postpone my appointment, but I feel that this is something that cannot wait. As I wrote this last night, I had a bad headache. With the increased frequency and intensity over the past two weeks, I desperately need some relief.
On a totally different note, my Thanksgiving meal turned out pretty well, especially the cornbread dressing and the dessert I made. Here’s the recipe for the dessert I came up with (I haven’t thought of a name for it yet. Any suggestions?):

Ingredients
Preparation Steps

There is a lot to be thankful for. I have a much more open and honest life in Vermont as an out and proud gay man. I don’t have to constantly hide in the closet like I was forced to do in Alabama. I have some wonderful friends. One such friend is Susan. I don’t know what I’d do without her love and support. She’s been there for me when I need someone the most. I’m also thankful for all my blog friends out there. As long as you keep reading, I plan to keep writing. I’ve made some really wonderful friends through this blog. While I may complain about my job sometimes, I love what I do. I am very thankful for leaving full-time teaching to be a museum professional. I love working in the museum world, and I wish I could have discovered that earlier in my life, but I am thankful I have found it now. I am also thankful for my faithful companion, my beautiful Isabella. She brings me so much joy.
I’m also thankful for the beautiful meal I am preparing today: roast chicken (I prefer chicken to turkey), cornbread dressing, potatoes au gratin, collard greens, and/or butter beans. I know I’ll roast the chicken, make the dressing, and at least one of the vegetables. I haven’t fully decided. I also made a cranberry, apple, and pineapple dessert with a hint of vodka. Yum! I hope it all turns out like I want it to.
What are you thankful for on this Thanksgiving holiday? And what are you planning to eat today?

Cats tend to have a bad reputation. Some people assume they’re snobby, unfriendly, completely uninterested in their human owners, and prone to scratching or biting. But anyone who loves or owns cats knows that this couldn’t be further from the truth. While there has been significantly more research done on dogs than cats because they are harder to study, scientists are finally starting to change that. I am so thankful for my Isabella. She has saved my life.

I adopted Isabella at a when I was extremely depressed and lonely. I had moved 1,200 miles away from my family, and I had recently lost a very dear friend. There were days when I did a lot of crying, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go on in this life. My two cats had stayed in Alabama with my aunt because at first I could not have pets in my apartment, and even when I talked my landlords into letting me have a cat, my aunt did not want to give up my cats. The loneliness and depression had almost become more than I could stand, and I knew I needed a companion up here.

Isabella has made the perfect companion nearly from day one. She took some time adjusting to my apartment, but eventually, she became the loving cat she is now. She’s never been one to cuddle, but she will lay on my hip if I’m laying on my side. She also just like to sit next to me.and just be near. She also seems to be able to sense when my blood sugar drops too low, especially if I’m sleeping, and she will wake me up so that I can get my blood sugar back to safe levels. In more ways than one, she has literally saved my life. I am ever so thankful for her constant companionship.

Thanksgiving
By James Whitcomb Riley – 1849-1916
Let us be thankful—not only because
Since last our universal thanks were told
We have grown greater in the world’s applause,
And fortune’s newer smiles surpass the old—
But thankful for all things that come as alms
From out the open hand of Providence:—
The winter clouds and storms—the summer calms—
The sleepless dread—the drowse of indolence.
Let us be thankful—thankful for the prayers
Whose gracious answers were long, long delayed,
That they might fall upon us unawares,
And bless us, as in greater need we prayed.
Let us be thankful for the loyal hand
That love held out in welcome to our own,
When love and only love could understand
The need of touches we had never known.
Let us be thankful for the longing eyes
That gave their secret to us as they wept,
Yet in return found, with a sweet surprise,
Love’s touch upon their lids, and, smiling, slept.
And let us, too, be thankful that the tears
Of sorrow have not all been drained away,
That through them still, for all the coming years,
We may look on the dead face of To-day.
About the Poet
James Whitcomb Riley was born in Greenfield, Indiana, on October 7, 1849. He left school at age sixteen and served in a variety of different jobs, including as a sign painter and with a traveling wagon show. He was the author of several books of poetry, including Home-Folks (Bowen-Merrill, 1900), The Flying Islands of the Night (Bowen-Merrill, 1892), and Pipes o’ Pan at Zekesbury (Bobbs-Merrill, 1888). He also served on the staff of two local newspapers, the Anderson Democrat and, later, the Indianapolis Journal. Riley was known as “the poet of the common people” for his frequent use of his local Indiana dialect in his work. He died in Indianapolis, Indiana, on July 22, 1916.