A Quick List of What I'm Grateful For

.... and Why You Might Be, Too!

Not in order of importance. Here’s my list for 2023.

• The fact that my four kids, my dog, my in-laws, and my husband are all still asleep right now so I can finally write this newsletter.

• The coffeemaker still loudly squeaking out coffee today despite being on its last legs.

• The book I’m reading now that I can’t put down: John Sargent’s Turning Pages: The Adventures and Misadventures of a Publisher.

• Chargers.

• Reading glasses.

• Mounjaro. (See prior post.)

• The Jewish community.

• The friends and supporters of the Jewish community.

• The navigation apps on my phone.

• Oat milk.

• Zoloft.

• Authors.

• Canva.

• The new haircut lady who gave me a nice haircut last week.

• My older son. And the man he has become. His sense of humor. His escalating confidence as he grows up. How he calls me funny nicknames and constantly makes me laugh. How he shows me Tiktok’s of singings omelets. How he cares for his younger siblings. How he makes things look easy. How happy he makes me when he’s home. How he hugs me.

• My older daughter. And how she laughs with her whole body. How she always shares what’s on her mind. How she takes on new challenges like the soccer team and ends up most improved. How she roots for everyone, always. How she’s ahead of every trend. How her Swifty-ness preceded the craze. How she calls me Mama. How she hugs me.

• My younger daughter. And how she designed a book cover last night for the middle grade novel I’m writing called Diary Hoppers. And then how she texted an illustrator from my podcast last night to work on it. (It’s out on submission and getting rejected right and left, but it’s good and I’m not giving up.) How she sings like an angel. How she can take a pair of old jeans and sew them into a doll wardrobe. How she hugs me.

  

  

• My younger son. And how he hand-wrote me a note yesterday inviting me to a book club for just him and me. How our legs intertwine while we read side by side. How he looks at me. How he can speak with accents from places I didn’t even know he’d heard of. How he makes hot chocolate. How he hugs me.

• The camera on the iPhone.

• Photography and the joy a fabulous photograph brings every time I see it.

• The sound of leaves crunching underfoot.

• The bright star I saw out the bathroom window last night. A planet? The wonder it evoked in me and how small I felt, yet how connected.

• My foot doctor who I’ve seen twice a week for three months for my Achilles who constantly reassures me that it just takes time, even when it still hurts.

• Emails and DMs from people I don’t know but who thank me for something I’ve done that has helped them in ways big or small or who has seen me for who I really am — and the feeling I get reading and rereading those notes.

• Finally having a novel about to come out at age 47 after longing for that to happen since I was ten years old.

• Dark chocolate. Chocolate covered almonds.

• Homemade soup.

• My husband’s pasta. And everything he cooks.

• Becoming friends with authors I admire.

  

  Me, Maggie Smith, Meaghan Riordan Jarvis, Dani Shapiro. Miami Book Fair.

• Building a community around something I love.

• My team at work. How one of them organizes shots for us all when we celebrate. The laughter. The brilliance. The kind-heartedness. The friendships.

  

  The Zibby Media team plus Zibby Books authors Amy Lin and Meghan Riordan Jarvis.

• My bookstore team. The knowledge. The passion. The relationships.

• Wallpaper.

• Jeans that fit.

• When I finally find my phone.

• Mid-mornings in my jammies.

• Whenever a flight is on time.

• Books that make me tune out the rest of the world.

• Books that make me laugh, cry, and gasp.

• Shows I can’t stop watching.

• The many manuscripts I’ve read on submission to us and the talent I’ve seen, even if they aren’t right for us.

• Book fairs.

• Bookstores.

• Booksellers.

• Daytime parties.

  

• My Blue Yeti microphone that I ordered in March 2018 and still use every day for my podcast.

• Authors opening up to me.

• Advice.

• Friends who remember when I don’t.

• Allergy meds.

• Sunrise.

• My mom and how what used to annoy me when I was younger makes me smile now in recognition. That’s just her. And I love her. Our different taste in books and her insistence that I’ll love what she’s read recently. Her sayings: “Holy mackerel!” “The beat goes on.” The relationships she has with my kids. Her handwriting. How she sets the table and entertains. How obsessed she is with her puppy. How she talks to other drivers as she drives. Her love of the theater and art

  

  My mom, far left, working at my bookstore.

• My dad and how he has more energy than me. How he never stops thinking, analyzing, and trying to make things better in the world. How much he appreciates beautiful things. How much joy he takes in life on the rare moments he slows down and notices them all. His thumb wrestles. How he still strokes my head occasionally like when I was a little girl and I feel so loved. How he’ll step out of any meeting to take my call. His goofy sayings. His kindness. The life he has enabled me to lead. The example he has set in so many ways. His holiday costumes. How he dances. How he walks. How he types.

  

  My dad.

• My brother and how much we understand about each other that goes unsaid. How wonderful a dad he is and how much I adore his kids. His massive career accomplishments that he rarely talks about. His laugh. His hugs. How I won’t say anymore about him because I know he’ll be annoyed.

• My in-laws and how they always show up, how they always smile, how they love my kids, how they help with the dishes, how they dote, how they model love and kindness.

• Sweatshirts that are soft inside.

• Warm chocolate chip cookies. Best cookie ever was at the Betsy Hotel in Miami: dark chocolate chunk. Gooey in the center. Crisp on the outside. Thick. Not too sweet. Soft. Perfection.

• My girlfriends from college and our group texts. How their quick senses of humor always make me chuckle in the middle of a busy day.

• My old friends from high school and how much we’ve all gone through together.

• My even older friends.

• My new friends who I meet and say, “Okay, now we’re friends.”

• Beautiful stationery.

• Clever greeting cards.

• New brands in the supermarket.

• The smell of a freshly-baked waffle cone.

• My husband. How we sleep hugging. The sound of his laughter. The feel of his soft hands. How he would do — and does — anything for the kids. His athleticism. His handwritten notes. How he takes care of me, us, everything. How he always encourages me whenever I feel like quitting and even when I don’t. How he has built his own stellar company and produced a film that is so good they’re having for your consideration screenings. His smell. How he always wants to get outside. How he reminds me to do things to make me a better person. His cooking. His drinks. His entertaining. How he adds music to our lives in every way. His steadfast loyalty to everyone in his life, including me.

  

• The ritual of flipping through newspapers daily.

• A song that makes me turn up the volume and sing.

• Happy colors and soft textures at home.

• Running water and electricity.

• The Zibby Books authors.

• A fire in the fireplace.

• The sound of my kids laughing and playing without fighting.

• The bus.

• Fedex.

• Clean sheets.

• Doctors. Dentists.

• The women who make my life at home run so smoothly. Our nanny who has been with us for almost 17 years and who I truly and deeply love. Our housekeeper who is one of the smartest women I know and who I tried to get to work for Zibby Media, unsuccessfully. And yet she helps with everything all the time and is far better than me at many, many things. Our new addition of someone who helps us eat delicious, healthy meals and some not-so-healthy delicious meals so I don’t have to think about it anymore and so my husband doesn’t have to cook during the workweek. The fact that I basically won the birth lottery so I can enjoy the exceptional benefits of having helpers at home who keep things running while I dive into work. The fact that I used to be far too embarrassed about all of this to admit it and now I can see it for what it is: extreme luckiness and privilege that I don’t take lightly. That I call out regularly. That I know makes some people hate me for it but I just can’t change that or change who I am or where I came from. That I hope everyone knows that I use my advantages in life for good, give back, and help others.

• The stack of books I have that says: “You may be too much for some people. Those are not your people.”

• That I stayed home with my kids for 11 years and still managed to catch up.

• The gift of writing.

• My laptop.

• Long plane rides spent working.

• My late grandmother’s china.

• The handmade grandfather clock built by my late grandfather.

• What I’ve learned from loss.

• Getting up from the floor after a good cry.

• Seeing signs of those we’ve lost.

• Learning how to do something new and the joy of mastering it.

• Starting over at age 40.

• Tennis.

• The feeling of walking through sand.

• The sound of the ocean.

• Alarms.

• The washing machine and dryer.

• Old letters I’ve saved.

• Photo albums.

• The sound of laughter.

• Hugs.

• Hoop earrings.

• The two necklaces my mom gave me that “you never have to take off.” So I don’t.

• Holidays.

• Instagram.

• Hospitals.

• Libraries.

• Mental health specialists.

• Teachers.

• Running into people I know on the street.

• Discovering a new small shop with thoughtful gifts.

• Advil.

• The fact that my kids, my dog, and my in-laws are still asleep as I finish writing this.

• The fact that we all lived to see another Thanksgiving.

• Substack.

• You.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!