On my final day of giving thanks, I woke up to a cold, bright, clear morning, walked by lots of little brown birds eating seeds off dried stalks, saw a V of geese flying south over my head, and appreciated how bright the world is with the leaves fallen from the branches. Today, I'm thankful for the world, and all its beauty and simplicity, its mystery and complexity. I'm thankful for the ways it reveals itself to us and the ways it will always be too much to fathom. I'm thankful for the little brown birds and the squirrels and the earthworms and the mushrooms and the ants. I'm thankful for the mountains and the ocean and the desert and prairies and wind-swept caverns full of magic and light.
There's a man on the board of WB who I've met a handful of times in the years I've worked here. Every time I've met him, he's done that thing where he stands too close and pays me a lot of exaggerated and physical attention without actually appearing to notice me as a person at all.
Even so, I didn't realize just how bad it was until just now, when he introduced himself to me, asking, "Have we met?" When I said we had several times, he asked if I'm a volunteer? I was sitting at my desk at the time, and said that, no, I've been an employee here for 2 1/2 years.
Oddly, I didn't find myself looking for ways to make the conversation less awkward for him, because wow.