My body. Yes, I resent this anemic prison of flesh and bone. But when it comes to being healthy and happy, I unarguably meet the criteria for the former, which cannot be said of everyone. All of my moving parts work (granted, some more than others), and I've almost no need for my fabulous medical coverage. Also, my gums no longer bleed when I floss and brush, thanks to my recent interest in long-term dental health.

My family. I just heard my mother sprint down the hallway shouting, "OH SHIT." The kitchen is apparently filled with smoke. Lord knows why. The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade just ended, and my brother made a joke about Santa being assassinated on live TV by a parade-goer. So sick. Oh, and my mother saw me typing just now and asked if I was writing about her. Um, no. Maybe. Yes.

My dog. Well, my family's dog. He's 12. Through tears, my mother told me to "get my fill of him" because she suspects he won't be around for Christmas. I'm too emotional to think about that right now. Oh, Pookie. The Baby. Prince of Pups. Senor Four Paws. Sweetie Pie. Little Man. I am going to miss you so much. I love you.

My roommate and best friend. I love you, Agatha.

My friends. They are all awesome. And I'm 95 percent sure I'm not the one friend in the group whom everyone openly hates behind his back.

My boyfriend. Perhaps it's easy to fall in love with me, but it sure as hell ain't easy to date me. Or at least that is what I say to make myself feel complicated and complex.

My blog. When I shut down this blog a year ago, the Gentleman Friend told me I was a shortsighted fool. He was right. Sad but true, my blog keeps me sane.

That pretty much sums it up. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.