Well, it is glass-half-full time again. The time of year we pause, along with the Indians and the pilgrims, or the Native Americans and the non-native Americans if you prefer, and the pumpkins, the turkeys, the buckled shoes and the food, football, football, food, and we give thanks to our God, gods, humanity, ancestors, myths, prophets, science, spirits, nothingness or what have you.

Times like these remind me that I should be thankful for not only my wife and kids, my house and job, my spleen and my kidneys, my coming-back-but-not-there-yet 401(k) and my pension, but I also should be thankful for just about everything, even stuff rife with unpleasantness, which also has its place in the universe. Here are some things for which I'm thankful:

I don't get the retirement benefits yet, but I qualify, so in a pinch, I could claim them. Social Security is not one of those government or private funds that is jeopardized because of government mismanagement, the bankers, the speculators, the insurance companies, the CEOs, Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, Sallie Mae, Henry Paulson, the recession, the TARP, serious underfunding or credit-default swaps. Is it? Just askin'.

I know a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and I haven't exactly studied this astrophysical phenomenon. But the short form is this: About 13.7 billion years ago, something very hot and dense exploded and is still flying outward. You may think you are standing still, but you are moving pretty fast, actually, and not just when a bill collector is at the door. The Big Bang appears to have been the beginning of the universe, which is purportedly at least 156 billion light-years wide, bigger even than the United States' national debt (by a little). And the bang was so precise that if it had happened a millisecond earlier or later or with a mass just a tiny fraction different, it wouldn't have worked at all. But as it is, we have frogs, mountains, Carthusian monks, asparagus, my computer mouse, Rush Limbaugh, oceans, the Pittsburgh Steelers (it's always good to work them into anything we write), billions of stars, Britney Spears and, of course, Sarah Palin. Nobody knows why (not just about Sarah Palin). The scientists are just plain stumped on why and how the Big Bang banged. Go figure. But it does get us back to being thankful, doesn't it?

This is something that tries our patience and builds our character, and for that we can be thankful. From the squawking police radios to the jackhammers, from the yak-yak-yakking co-workers to the 52-inch plasma TV sets with surround sound, from the beep-beep-beeping garbage trucks to the tractor-trailers' air brakes, from the mountains to the prairies, to the oceans white with foam. Wait, I got carried away there; the mountains and prairies aren't that loud. See, patience, I tell you, is what we develop. It is God's way of telling us we were bad and that if we want to get into heaven, a little ringing in the ears can only help. (Noise pollution, particularly in the workplace, is why there was a television show called "Just Shoot Me!")

Sure, these guys and gals tear up their bodies by playing way more games than the human body was designed to endure. But, hey, they get paid exorbitantly and should stop whining just because, say, a leg doesn't work. And we get to watch in person or on TV the home runs, great passes, terrific shots, in-your-face dunks, last-second three-pointers, incredible saves, spectacular catches, bruising tackles and hockey fisticuffs. It reminds us of how bad we were at all these games. And why did they get all the talent and we ended up on the copy desk? Not that I'm envious. And if we weren't watching sports, we might have time to clean out the basement. And who wants that?

These are a kick to see, the colors and all. They remind us that when our time is up, and we are ready to "fall from the tree," we will first turn red, yellow, gold, rust-colored, maroon, orange or some other beautiful hue. Or not. But I'm thankful for everything in the past, present and future, even if I finally hit the ground looking less colorful than an autumn maple leaf (not the hockey player).

Cartoonist Rob Rogers does "Rob's Rough," an early look at his work and his creative process, exclusively at PG+, a members-only web site of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Our introduction to PG+ gives you all the details.