First of all, I would like to thank my friends and extended family at Life Care Center of Federal Way for joining me and making it possible for me to participate in the Ice Bucket Challenge. Without their gracious and capable care, I can do nothing.
I would like to thank the millions of people who have taken the time to participate in this event, have learned about ALS, and who have reached into their wallets to support ALS research.
I would also like to thank the ALS Association, particularly the Evergreen Chapter, who have given so much to many of us afflicted with ALS.
Last, I want to thank the tens of thousands of us PALS (persons with ALS) who pull up their bootstraps every day and support each other and are literally, dying for a cure.
I sincerely thank all of you for your love, well wishes, and support. God bless you.
The preceeding was the speech I made prior to taking the Ice Bucket Challenge this past summer. I still feel that way today.
This is my first Thanksgiving since I've been at the home. Despite the agony of being denied access to my real home, I'm putting my best foot forward this holiday. My mother, father (step), and husband are bringing me a Thanksgiving feast. Thank you! The home certainly did not bother to make any kind of holiday feast.
We had Honey-baked Ham and honey-roasted turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, cherry-cranberry sauce, stuffing, candied yams, deviled eggs, cherry crumb pie, and pumpkin pie. Yum! Our feast was topped off with the Seahawks v. Niners football game. I did not get past halftime but the Seahawks won nonetheless. Go hawks!
Orange, gold, rust, burnt sienna, ochre, raw umber; the riot of fall colors, in the trees and at our booted feet; a drive in the countryside; the taste of hot apple cider on my lips; the satisfaction of a truckload of firewood we gathered and cut ourselves; elk herds on the move; hearty stews, savory soup, crusty whole-grain bread, pumpkin and gingerbread spice lattes; these are the memories I tap into the most this time of year. Cabela's fliers in the mailbox; Carhart's camo-clad hunters swarm outlying areas; mushroom garthering; huckleberry picking; logger burgers; forest service roads; cheese sandwiches on the woodstove; warm quilts, cool sheets, and flannel nightgowns; cold butt, warm heart. Immensely grateful to have the well of memories to draw upon.
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