Was it the sweet or mashed potatoes or football game or pie that made the day so exquisite? Was it the way everyone chipped in to cook and clean and reminisce about the mud bowl at the lot in 1976? Perhaps it was the familiar scent of sage and cinnamon drowned out by children's squeals and chatter, or maybe, just maybe, it was the same old conversation about tires, or how much people disliked Howard Cosell even though there hasn't been a game called with as much vigor or vibrato since John Lennon passed on a Monday night. No, it must have been the thought that even the old beagle Bosco knew that we were thankful for him and his sister, and the two dreadful cats, the bills, the drought, the high price of peanut butter. Knowing how good we have it amid all that is bad made me grateful for dandelions, too.