Happy Sandwich Day -- aka the Day After Thanksgiving. As you prepare your leftover turkey sandwiches, our HuffPost bloggers have fresh food for thought: their takes on what we have to be grateful for, and where we can do better. So step up to the blog buffet and dig in. In the meantime, we can't let the moment pass without mentioning the week's biggest turkey: Hank Paulson who, in yet another abrupt about-face, suddenly can't give away taxpayers' money fast enough. Now he wants another $800 billion on top of the original $700 billion. All doled out with an utter lack of clarity, transparency, and the promised oversight. It's a bailout feast for Wall Street; a trip to the food bank for Main Street. Gobble, gobble, Hank.
The geniuses of Wall Street, with their twisted version of capitalism, have conspired to steal not only Christmas but also the nation's traditional day for counting its blessings.
This Thanksgiving I am grateful we have a president-elect who stood strong against the focus of evil in the modern world: the BCS college football bowl system.
I recall many memories every Thanksgiving. And I think of all those that are yet to be made. But none are possible without my country. My American blessings are uncountable.
Recipes aren't really my beat, but this year I invented a sandwich. I call it the "Turkey Sandwich We Can Believe In," or "The Obama" for short. Not because of any metaphor having to do with the ingredients, but because I invented this on election night.
Despite the most dismal economic forecasts of my lifetime, I'm thankful this Thanksgiving to the American people for their ability to be optimistic again.
For every Thanksgiving day that I've stuffed my face, there has been a five am wake-up call provided by my mother in order to begin the wonderfully stressful day of Black Friday shopping.
8.) The Thrilla in Vanilla. OK, it wasn't Ali-Frazier, but Henry Waxman's smackdown of John Dingell for chairmanship of the House Energy and Commerce Committee was high drama with high consequences.
Lord knows I am thankful this Thanksgiving Day that this period of retrenchment has finally come to an end -- that we are poised once again to make fundamental progressive change in America.
So the rug has dog pee on it. No big deal. If I have a fitful night of sleep these days, the cause of my wee-hour agitation is usually that I can hardly wait for the next day to commence. No kidding.
I am thankful that my midlife crisis this year didn't involve a sports car or a fling with a younger woman, but instead led me to purchase tickets to seven concerts this past summer.
This year the fear and bigotry that animated Proposition 8 in California has made this a strange Thanksgiving.
Instead of boring you with another economic story I wanted to share a story about my Mom for Thanksgiving. She died almost two years ago and I still miss her very much.
It was the Monday after Thanksgiving, thirty years ago today, that San Francisco again changed forever. Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk were assassinated.
I can't shake the feeling that something big is happening in the world right now. Something really big. I don't know if it will be bad or good -- or maybe it will first be bad and then be good. But whatever it is, it will be interesting.
The White House put a picture of a sled bringing in the Christmas Tree on the cover of a card to Joe Lieberman that was supposed to celebrate Hanukkah. Do you suppose they could all just leave early?
I don't think about our troops enough, and I don't do so for the worst reason. I don't because I lump them into a conservative agenda that is not my own. And that is horribly ignorant.
Most people take their maiden turkey voyage surrounded by friends and family. But no one wants to eat turkey a week early. So it was just me and the bird.
A friend asked me the other day what I'm grateful for in life. I thought for a few moments and said, "It's fortitude." Life presents sharp curves at times.
