Every time I sit, hunched over the little birthday card, twiddling the pen as I contemplate the perfect original thing to write inside, I realize there never should be just one time a year you feel thankful for someone, something.

Yesterday, I sat squished on a sofa corner next to the parents and my grandma, watching Favre break records and realizing, hey, maybe I don’t detest football. (I mean, you’ve got Grandma on one side, shrieking gleefully during an interception, and half-inebriated uncles on your right going what the heck were you looking at?)

But I was thankful. Appreciative of the fact that, for six hours, everyone in this room was someone I love, someone I’ve shared memories with. And later, when we watched home videos from the Bad Hair Days, it was the best kind of laughter.

It shouldn’t have to be Thanksgiving, or Christmas, Easter, someone’s birthday for us to take a few minutes and just feel blessed. But with every birthday card, I find myself writing some version of “I know I should tell you more…” or “I know I say it every year, but…”

In a nutshell, these are only a few of the random, trivial and all-encompassingly important things I’m thankful for every day (in no particular order):

A supportive family. One that still lets me crash in the spare room or bring over laundry, lets me sulk when I’m crabby and knows the best most-embarrassing stories to share with everyone I bring home [that may happen to involve a time in life when wearing underwear on my head was a fashion statement.]

The best friends. Ever. Breakups, too many cervezas, Sundays vegging, marathon phone conversations, pep talks, mix tapes, bad karaoke (by yours truly) … You name it, there’s nothing these people won’t do for or put up with from me.

The always-cheerful grocery clerk: Every Sunday I end up with the same cashier at a warehouse-like grocery store in [City A]. If I had to work every Sunday, the happy-go-luckiness inside might dwindle after two years. But her? She’s brimming with sunshine. Thanks, grocery girl, for sharing your bright-and-shiny ‘tude with the world.

Good traffic. Driving 40 miles round trip on Wisconsin’s busiest highway? Yeah, you appreciate the occasional no-accidents, no-backups trip back and forth.

Kids. Love them. You know, strangers’, relatives’, ones on TV … my unborn babies. They have a magical way of seeing the world, and there’s no better reminder than a 4-year-old’s wide eyes gobbling up a dewy pumpkin pie.

Beef jerky. While you’re shaking your head, I must say I just can’t help it. Sometimes you just need meat. And, it reminds me of sleepovers in sixth grade where jerky was right there alongside M&Ms and ice cream when it came to midnight snacks.

Nice policemen: This one is obviously more recent for me, but it’s important to be grateful for getting a nice cop. One that writes me a warning instead of slapping my face with a $200 ticket. I may have had six written warnings since I turned16, and every time I send a prayer up to the Heavens for avoiding that extra expense.

Romantic comedies.

The internet. (What would we do without email, online banking, Wisconsin Circuit Court Access and SuperPoke?)

Nights off.

When people surprise you, in good way.

Movie nights with Mom.

A job that lets me roll in at 7:30 or 10 a.m., if need be. And, maybe just having a job, you know, in general.

A roof over my head.

Hot baths in winter.

Creative souls. (Fellow writers, thoughtful ponderers, artists, musicians, anyone who sees the beauty in ordinary days)

You. (Yes, every one of you. Because like kindergarten teachers everywhere have told us, we are all special in our own way. And it’s still true.)

P.S. A thanks to all the moms, grandmoms and other Slightly Crazy Folk who braved 20-degree temps to duke it out over DVD players at 4 a.m. today. You’re a strong bunch and so here, we salute you: