Exercise Buddies by Barbara Quinn

I go to the gym three or four times a week and let me tell you, it’s a struggle to get my butt there. I’m much happier reading a book, or writing, or sitting outside and soaking up the sun. But the exercise is good for me, and I do feel better when I complete a workout.

I feel better not only because of the exercise, but because of the lovely group of women in the cardio-strength class I attend twice a week. I’m grateful that I have time with these ladies and I look forward to our time together. They are all ages, from mid-thirties to early seventies. Each one brings a dash of uniqueness to the constant conversations which help us pass the time. We talk while we sweat through our step and aerobics. We talk while we do our weights. We chat before and sometimes we go for coffee after. And so I’ve come to know all about their children, and grandchildren, their parents and grandparents. One woman came back this week after a bout of strep and mono. Everyone wanted to know what had happened. Another’s daughter has decided where to attend college at Tulane where my son went, and we discussed that. The teacher’s daughter sliced her foot on a hot tub and advice was given. We talk politics, and religion. We share recipes and recommend books, movies, restaurants. And most importantly, we laugh.

There are different levels of friendships in life. All of them are valuable and keep us connected. I owe much to those people who allow me into their lives and who are there in times of need. The friends you share the good news with are as important as the ones you share the bad news with. And the friends you exercise with, well, they too are truly special!

The 4 Fs by Angie Ledbetter

I see a recurring theme and common thread in many of my gratitude posts. Funny, these are the same things packed into my co-authored inspirational book too -- Family, Friends, Faith & Food -- and also the important things passed down through generations in my family.

Family: I wouldn't be who/where/what I am without them. My parents and grandparents, in particular, have molded me and given me the values I still hold dear. Thank you!

Friends: Some of my dearest friends I've had since kindergarten or my early days in Girl Scouts. They lift me up when I'm down and make me laugh often. Thanks to you, friend who lent my mom your "magic blue cape" for her journey through illness; thanks to all of you crazy writer women whose words inspire me daily; and thanks to all of you who've been there to share laughter, hugs and sadness. Oh, and I appreciate all you who've helped my kids through school, Scouts, sports, and other events when my husband has been unavailable because of work. All of you together have created a beautiful stream of companionship that continues to flow through my life.

Faith: I'm deeply grateful for my faith. It gets me through rough patches, gives me hope always and is a guiding principle I lean on often.

Food: Whether Cajun, Italian, country cookin', or some new concoction, I love my food. Preparing and eating good food gives me comfort and allows me to share the fruits of my labor with others. Food is the connecting element I find in many of my best memories and gatherings. I'm glad I can cook and thankful for the opportunities I have to commune with the important people in my life over a full table.

And on that note, here's a link to a new favorite recipe called Sweet Vidalia Pie, or "An Onion by Any Other Name Wouldn't be as Sweet." If you try it, let me know how you like it! http://http://www.2theadvocate.com/wbrz/mrfood/18333804.html

Gimme Them Beans by Kat Magendie

I grew up with home-cooked food. I sound almost dinosaurian, but I never knew the difference, as there were many other kids who grew up when I did who didn’t eat at fast food joints. Our family never had a lot of money, what with five kids and a daddy who part of the time of our childhoods was attending college. That meant no restaurants were on our menu, either. The only exceptions came in later years when we lived in Baton Rouge—when we went to the Piccadilly on Government Street on an occasional Sunday, when Mother bought home hot tamales from that hot tamale place on North Boulevard, and the one and only time Mother stopped at a McDonalds (I was a teen) and came home with bags of hamburgers and French fries while we kids stared with fascination and lust over the previously unknown mystery held under those golden arches.

Our meals consisted of lots and lots of beans. Many many beans. And you’d think I would be tired of them, but I am not. I still love beans, particularly pintos, which was Mother’s bean of choice. There were butter beans, crowder peas, blackeyed peas (which I hated, because I thought they smelled like dirty socks), baby limas and big limas, navy beans—all eaten with cornbread sopping with butter. South Louisianians have their Red Beans and Rice, but my mother is from Arkansas, and my daddy from Tennessee, so we ate what many would consider “Country Cookin’.” When we weren’t having beans, we had rice and gravy, succotash (which meant lots of leftovers stirred together to make this stuff that didn’t taste half bad), chipped-cream beef on toast (that strange beef that is cut in strips and has the texture of softened rubber, but somehow Mother made it taste good), and more beans, beans, beans, glorious beans.

Thanks, Mom. Because I grew up eating all those beans, and because we didn’t eat out at fast food joints and restaurants, I have the arteries and heart of someone half my age, maybe younger. When I had my carotid artery sonogrammed, the technician fell in love with it. She gushed, “Oh My God, oh. Oh, this is the cleanest prettiest most beautiful artery I have ever seen in my life! Come look at this, Joe! You have to see it!” My heart is strong, too, and I am healthy as that clichéd horse. Gratitude is fickle, some things aren’t appreciated in their time, but later, when the results rear their pretty arteried head.

Graduation Day by Nannette Croce

If all goes as planned when you read this I will be at Skidmore College for my daughter’s graduation. As you can imagine on such an occasion, I am waxing nostalgic––not about my daughter’s life, but my own.

I have a good memory for times past (not for things that need doing). This has provided me, at each stage of my daughter’s life, with an understanding of what she might be thinking and feeling. And right now she, like me at the time, can’t imagine a day when the thought of dorm life sends chills down her spine and ending her night at ten is preferable to starting it at that hour or later.

On my first job I shared an office with a fellow alumna of George Washington U and was horrified to learn she hadn’t been back to DC in four years. Washington, DC was my second home. I planned to return soon and often.

In the end, it took me five years and since my time there coincided with the Metro construction (yes I am that old), the city looked completely different the next time I saw it. I went back with my new husband. We had a little more money to spend. Though not flush, we could splurge on some of the restaurants I had to pass up in my student days.

Five years earlier I couldn’t have imagined turning up my nose at that deli we all frequented or preferring dinner for two and a glass of wine over a crowded bar.

When my daughter swears she’ll attend every reunion and maintain contact with every friend, I nod. Living the future can be more fun than knowing it.

On Gratitude by Maria Grazia Swan

A long time ago, when I was going through my divorce and felt for sure I would never be ‘whole’ again, I used to calm myself to sleep by counting my blessings.

I still count my blessings almost every night, not out of desperation but more out of habit. A happy habit. And the numbers are constantly growing. While in my time of despair I would only find comfort in a few major blessings, now that time and maturity have sharpened my sense of gratitude, I have enough daily thanks to click through the beads of an entire rosary.
No, I’m not going to bore you with my long (and very personal) list. But I would like to share something I consider ‘seasonal gratitude’. Please don’t laugh when I tell you that I’m grateful we’re in an elections year. No kidding.

Why?” you may ask.

If, like me, you follow international news, you are well aware of the massacres happening in Kenya following their elections. And certainly the Bhutto assassination made an impact regardless of your take on foreign policies. So I’m grateful that we live in this great country, the United States of America, where we can openly discuss and vote for whomever we want without fear, regardless of skin color, sex and country of origin. Amen!

Maria Grazia Swan is the winner of a Women's National Book Association award whose matchmaking has brought together a number of happy couples. She's now the go-to source for many online and print relationship guides. She is the author of the recently released,
Boomer Babes-True Tales of Love and Lust in The Later Years ( Dorchester Publishing).

Visit her website: http://www.boomerbabesbook.com/

Big Foot Barb by Barbara Quinn

In the midst of an intense weekend of pitching my latest novel, I looked in the mirror and saw a bright red rash spreading across my nose. I’m an allergic type so this was not unusual. Then the rash grew, and grew, and measles-like spots started appearing, first on my chest, then my arms, my back, and stomach. And my poor feet began to ache, especially my left one. I thought I’d been walking too much. No shoes were comfortable. I looked at my ankles. They were filled with fluid. Same for my hands. By the next day all my joints were stiff and filled with fluid and I was bright red and spotted everywhere. I soldiered on through the conference. There was a lot of pollen in NYC and I thought perhaps I was having a particularly bad case of pollen sensitivity.

Thank heavens for makeup and long sleeves. I covered up the red face and got some Cortaid cream to stem the itching. And I downed benadryl. Since my adrenaline was pumping, the usual antihistamine fog was not that bad, though it was definitely there. That swollen left foot really ached across the top.

Once the conference finished and I headed home, whatever had moved into my system took up even more space. My head throbbed and a fever rose. I couldn’t go down stairs since my ankles could not bend. I started dropping things because my fingers couldn’t hold onto them. Off I went to the doctor. I spent time at the hospital having blood drawn, urine sampled. One guess is that I had a bout of Fifth’s Disease which is a viral disease that crops up most often in childhood.

After a few more miserable days, the redness and symptoms subsided. When my feet began working properly again I was relieved. I gained a real appreciation for something I’ve always taken for granted: the simple act of going down the stairs without having to hang on to the banister and thump my feet from step to step. And I’m grateful that I was healthy enough to fight this weird disease off! Life is hard and navigating it when you are ill is an incredible challenge. My hat is off to all who suffer from debilitating conditions. Remember that movie My Left Foot where the fellow could only communicate via his left foot? Well, my left foot still swells up on top, but I'm grateful that it's the only part of me that doesn't work. That's nothing to complain about.

How Grateful are We? by Angie Ledbetter

A Chinese proverb most often attributed to Confucius says, "Don't curse the darkness -- light a candle." I love that quote and say it to myself sometimes when I'm tempted to curse more than just the "darkness." ;)

Here's a nice visual to go along with the saying:

When tempted to wallow in misery or sadness, I step outside whatever environment is causing the intense feelings of bleakness and get a glimpse of something refreshing. Today I sat outside in the early morning. The sun wasn't out of bed yet, but you couldn't tell it by the varied bird calls and songs filling the air. A cool breeze played in the outstretched arms of my Dad's mature fig tree. I'd gotten a decent night's sleep and had an aromatic first cup of coffee in hand while I breathed in the smells, sounds and sights surrounding me. I steeped in the light of the coming day instead of its mostly dark beginnings. Ahh.

Something else I've found refreshing is taking a gratitude test. Although there are many, this one is only six questions and scores come back immediately. Now it's official -- I'm immensely grateful -- the quiz proves it! And that reminds me that I'm thankful for this blog. It gives me frequent opportunities to look around, over, under, and beyond the moment to find treasures I'd probably otherwise miss.

Take the Gratitude Test