On this night before Christmas I can't help but be thankful for this year, all it has given me. The miles and months walking with my son, the wonderful people we met for a moment or a night, the helpful police and firemen/women as well as those not so helpful ones. The thousand mile trek with it's pain, grace, hardship, sprains, laughter and unequaled joy. The lessons, sights and friends which no amount of nine to five could so enrich my life with.
Too many days have I thought and thought of things to say in thanks only to dismiss them as silly tidbits that have no bearing on diabetes or exercise. What's the worst that could happen? What is the debilitating cost for posting something too weird or honest? Like I eat too much, or I obviously can't write, or I am letting my hair grow after keeping my head shaved ever since 911 even though I told everyone I did it for the Halloween gargoyle costume I wear each year, or 'Whales of August' with Bette Davis was just as touching as Catherine Hepburn in 'Lion in Winter'.
Oh my lord, I might embarrass myself! Not very likely.
I roll an inflatable world around to get people to do something to be active; my threshold is broad.
Merry Christmas to all my family and friends.