Thursday, Nov. 28, 2002 - 11:01 P.M.
I'm at home for Thanksgiving. In true Bockhart spirit, my Mom got drunk and crashed at 10:00. My Dad soon followed because he was tired from serving over 200 turkey dinners at the restaurant. I myself am tipsy and nostalgic, so it feels like every normal holiday around these parts. I have puggles barking at my feet and I'm thankful for a number of things. I'll probably list them tomorrow for tonight I can't be bothered. Things are, by and large, as good as they ever will be. I love and I am loved. In life, that's realy all you can hope for regardless of the circumstance.
