…I walk outside in 16 degrees of crisp winter air with a dusting of snow on the ground…I hear a single bird singing.  Singing!

…doggie loves being out in the crisp air and I smile at the little frisky dance she does when she, uh, does her business…just happy to be alive, I guess. :p

…a wonderful meal for Christmas…blessings to those who don’t have that…

… for the money to get the oil changed in the car and now it doesn’t sound quite as loud as before…

…the ability to chelate and get this horrible poison out of me…

…and the wonderful “coincidences” that happen in life:  I went to the used goods store to blow the stink off of me (get out of the house for awhile).  My favorite area is the book area, naturally.  I found one to buy, and started heading to the cashier.  She told me that they were only fifty cents today, so yeah, I’m going back to get some more.  I found an old book on the folklore of the Mississippi.  Get this–the cashier says, “I grew up along the Mississippi.”  I kid you not.  What are the chances?

She went on to say that they have locks that allow the boats to pass, and one time they couldn’t get the locks to open. They sent divers down and they came right back up–she said there was a 65 pound (?) catfish blocking the gates, and they weren’t having anything to do with it.  She went on to say that they all caught fish along the Mississippi, using boxes.  She said they caught a 55 pound catfish once.  I asked her what one does with that big a fish–throw it back?  She said they ate it–just sliced it up into fillets.

She went on to say that they (fishers and hunters) would feed the town once a year.  They’d bring the fish, and the hunters would bring wild game of all sorts.  They had turkeys, quail, duck, etc.  She said they had turtle, too, as they would get caught in the fishing boxes.

She said they would have heating pans all lined up.  The women would supply the side dishes like scalloped potatoes and such.  She said they did that every year.  I told her that would never happen here (Indiana).  She sighed and said that was one of the things she regretted about moving here.

And now that I think of it–there was a time that my neighborhood had an annual picnic.  I don’t think they do that anymore.  But it was different–each family would bring their own meat, veggie, drink, etc., so it wasn’t like the Mississippi version where the meat was provided and the sides were a community offering.  I’m not trying to say one version is better than another–just different.  There’s nothing like getting together for a meal, though…

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….little things and little moments of gratitude for all of the above…