Category — thanksgivings project

I heart the male gender.  If you could become a fan of Men on Facebook, I would be all over it. I love the way you look; particularly in a suit or uniform, but even when you’re dressed to chop wood or go hiking. I love the way you smell, even when you’ve been working hard. Perhaps especially then. I love your confidence, your arrogance even. I adore the child-like joy you express at the silliest things.  One of my favorite things about men, though, is receiving their attention…

I’m thankful for grape lifesaver flavored kisses, for sideways glances, for your unabashed appreciation of my figure. For the gentle squeeze of my hip when we kissed. For trying to pick me up at red lights and in traffic jams. For chewing off my pearl earrings. I love the way your sweat tastes when I kiss your chest. I still think about that first sweet kiss through an open car window… and the last sweet kiss the morning after. I’m grateful for the way your arm felt around my waist. I love that you rested your head on my stomach, and the way your whiskers felt on the inside of my thigh.

Thank you for buying me drinks at the airport, on my flights and occasionally in the bar. Though I might shoot you a disapproving look, thanks for the whistles and the catcalls, and for distracting me while I’m driving. I love it when you whisper something dirty in my ear in public.  Thanks for pinning me to the wall, for pulling me into your lap. Taking pleasure in my pleasure. Thanks for teaching me how to fly, for throwing me around like a sack of potatoes. For getting me tipsy and “taking advantage” of me.

You never let me pick up the tab when I offer. You rush to get the door for me, help me with heavy things, check my oil and stuff my A/C vent full of bubble wrap. You set me on fire with racy emails, chats and tweets. Thanks for dropping me off at the door. For offering to put your jacket in a puddle for me. For making emergency stocking runs. For having a few too many and sticking to me like glue all night. For stealing kisses in airport terminals. For running your fingers through my hair from your armchair while I fall asleep on the couch. For giving me a building tour in the dark. Thanks for opening jars, for fixing stuff, for telling me I look good. You make me laugh, you give me sweet dreams. Even when you infuriate me, it is nothing short of delicious torture.

Men, you make me crazy in all the best and worst ways. I’m thankful for you as a whole, and the few of you I’m specifically most grateful for? You know who you are…

This week has been incredible; I’ve learned a lot, solved a few problems, met some great people and caught up with precious old friends. Nothing beats coming home, though, particularly when you live in Paradise.

How fortunate I am to live in one of the most beautiful places on Earth. The heart of the Southern Appalachians, where the days are warm and the nights are cool, and the scenery is always breathtaking. There is always somewhere to go and something to see. The Blue Ridge Parkway. The Great Smoky Mountain National Park. Hundreds and thousands of acres of National Forest. Rushing rivers and streams that are barely a trickle. People used to ask me why I moved from Atlanta to Asheville. “There’s nothing to do here!” Are you kidding me?! I’ve never heard such a ludicrous statement.

Western North Carolina is an incredible place to live. We have excellent food, plenty of entertainment, just enough shopping, and no matter where you are downtown, in thirty minutes you can find a picnic spot with an incredible view.

“In my heart and unlicensed judgment, the good Lord will place the Garden of Eden in North Carolina when he returns to Earth. He will do so because he will have so few changes to make in order to achieve perfection.” – Senator Sam Ervin