Today is Thanksgiving. Today I am thankful for a few things:

First of all, my husband. My Mike is amazing. We have known each other a whopping thirteen years and he still loves me just as my as when we were sixteen. I think it's safe to say he's a keeper. I wouldn't trade him for anyone in this world, not even my beloved Hugh Jackman (although I wouldn't kick him out of bed- hubba, hubba). He has loved me through thick and thin (both literally and figuratively) and he's just generally amazing. He lets me stay home with our son and enjoy watching him grow up, rather than work full-time, which would probably make our checkbook a little happier, but would positively break my heart. He supports me in my every harebrained (Ha, bet you thought it was "hairbrained". It's not.) scheme and doesn't throw too many "told-ya-so's" my way when they don't work out as planned. He works hard, he does what needs to be done, and he does it all for us. Sometimes he acts like an 80-year-old man in a 29-year-old body and he even has his diva-like "Pretty Pretty Princess Mike" moments, but I love him more than anything in this world.

My beautiful boy. I love how clever he is and how much he makes me laugh with all his ideas ranging from where he came from (he was an egg, I ate the egg, he hatched in my stomach, he was a dinosaur/the Hulk, and he clawed his way out. Um, ouch) to where yarn comes from (despite having seen a sheep sheered and seeing that wool being spun into yarn, he insists it comes off the sheep in a big colorful string). I love how much he can surprise you when you think he isn't paying attention. I love how much he loves his family. He's an awesome kid. I prayed for an incredible kid when I was pregnant, and, well, I got one. He's a handful some of the time, and to keep up with his brain takes some work, but he's completely worth every ounce of energy he takes. He's so much like Mike, sometimes I wonder if he didn't spring forth from Mike's forehead, completely formed (then I look at the subway map etched into my stomach and I know that didn't happen). He loves math, like his daddy…he loves video games (A LOT), like his daddy…he can run the computer probably better than my mother, like his daddy…and he has a big square head, like his daddy. He's a little nerd-in-training, and I think it's awesome.

And lastly, knitting. Knitting keeps me happy, keeps me sane. When I'm happy, I knit, and I smile with every stitch, thinking about where the project is going and who is going to (hopefully) love it; when I'm sad, I knit, and I let my tears flow until the stitches help me forget (tonight be one of those nights, matey). When I was a teenager, I painted my feelings away; as an adult, I knit them away. Same outlet, different medium, and I'm grateful for the skills that keep my creative juices flowing.

 Tonight I should write about other things, but I'm not in the right state of mind to do it. Instead, I'm going to upload some photos to Flickr, make a turkey sandwich with copious amounts of mayonnaise and black pepper (also another thing to be grateful for), knit a little on this monkey I'm working on, and call it a cold November night with my gorgeous boys.