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Like many other Americans, I will give God fervent thanks for family, friends, and turkey on November 25.

My gratitude, however, will pale beside that of The White House turkey, as the President is expected to officially pardon not only that fortunate fowl, but also a backup bird.

Nevertheless, I am compelled every November to also express appreciation for odd blessings. For unknown reasons, you appear compelled to read them. So, for your Thanksgiving pleasure, I share below weird things for which Im thankful in 2021:

Silverware. Eating dressing and mashed potatoes with chopsticks might turn Thanksgiving dinner into a (gasp!) dieting session. At least, for uncoordinated diners like moi.

Persistent spiders that construct webs at my door, regardless how many times I sweep them away. This gratitude poses a major stretch for a card-carrying arachnophobe, but, as Hubby says, spiders catch other crawly things before they enter our house.

Shots. This weenie never, ever envisioned giving thanks for shots or people who give them. Nowadays? Absolutely.

Toilet paper. Anyone who experienced recurrent catalog page/corncob nightmares in spring 2020 will agree.

Steering wheels. Whether a sleek 2021 Beemer or junky 1972 Gremlin, both need steering wheels to keep us off sidewalks. And out of somebodys living room.

A dishwasher that hides dirty-dish clutter. Until they begin to smell

New fuzzy slippers that snuggle with my chilly toes.

The kind dry-cleaning lady who, in Chicago or New York, would have been considered insane. When I forgot cash required for payment, she allowed me to return a week later, no less to settle my bill.

Good-hair days during 2021. Both of them.

Outlets. Wouldnt it be nice if a tired human could poke a finger into this energy-giving device and power up? (Hint: dont try this at home.)

My potted plants, who make Survivor winners look like wusses.

That I do not own a second garage I can stuff with stuff.

Or a second house that needs cleaning.

Autumns blue-sky days that make me want to leap straight into heaven.

Store-bought cookies that taste like cardboard. They prove I can resist sweets. Really.

Baggy, old sofa pillows we can use so newer, decorative ones remain that way. (This opinion does not reflect that of the other half of household management.)

People who annoy me. They often show up in my novels.

The non-messy crabapple tree the nursery owner said would never produce crabapples grows plentiful clusters of fruit. Their brilliant red against autumn golds and browns spotlights the joy of uninvited color in our lives.

Loads of towels and underwear to launder evidencing there are still two of us living at this address.

Vehicles, stopped in the middle of the street, that block my way. Enjoying conversation, the drivers demonstrate face-to-face friendship still exists in this phone-obsessed world.

Drivers Education cars. Proof that drivers are being educated before traffic school.

That Gila monsters are not native to Indiana. Especially, that no family or friends have imported them as pets.

The couple who mistakenly brought a scrumptious-looking pie to my door. Though sad to send them elsewhere, I was inspired to be a better friend and neighbor. And to bake a pie.

Wax paper. It boasts no zip-locks, no fancy colors, prints or super-cling hype. No power buttons or updates. But it does its job, ensuring cookies dont stick to the counter when cooling.

Though a stalwart coffee fan, every night I drink the worlds best cup of tea, brewed and served by my tea-loving husband.

The hospitable crew at my church who supply beverages to hundreds every Sunday. Because of their service, there are a lot fewer grouchy Christians around even when Daylight Saving Time messes with our clocks.

Paper plates and disposable turkey pans.

My obnoxious microwave. Though I daily threaten to shoot it because it trumpets all-done beeps loud enough to wake the neighbors, it saves hours of cooking.

Traffic signals instead of roundabouts.

Gravity. Though I would love the scales to record me as weightless, getting up close and personal with asteroids might prove somewhat painful.

Plus, I am not so desirous of weightlessness that I would skip a Thanksgiving feast. Or sorry, Mr. Turkey pardon its main course.

I doubt you will, either.

Turkey non-gratitude aside, may bunches of blessings, weird and otherwise, grace your Thanksgiving Day!

More:
Weird things for which I'm thankful | - Chronicle-Tribune