We’re in Barcelona and it’s Thanksgiving. Well, Thanksgiving in Canada as they don’t celebrate this here in Spain (what with all the conquering and genocide and what-not) and instead of going through the usual boring (but true) things that I’m thankful for – family and health and being able to go on this amazing adventure, having a swell bunch of kids look after my stores for me while I’m gone, my great friends on my hockey team who entrusted me with The Dangler to take around the world, my good peeps who are looking after my house and all of my friends and family who have been supportive of our endeavours – instead of saying all that, I’m going to give thanks for the following…

I’m thankful for being able to spend quality time with the family in various bars.

Don’t worry Mom, he’s getting the best education ever!

I’m thankful for having eyes to take in the gorgeous sites!

“Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries!”

I’m thankful for clean clothes!

Leaves your clothes smelling colon fresh!

I’m thankful for public art.

Very public art! Oh my!

I’m thankful for the combination of public art and bars!

Beer + Swanson + naked ass + gazelle heads + view = Something to be thankful for.

I’m thankful for zombie tourists.

Brains! Photos!

I’m thankful for crazy doctors and their crazy fish.

Who doesn’t want want little fish nibbling away at your corns and dead foot skin?

I’m thankful for Swanson’s new found love of photo-bombing.

I’m thankful for The Dangler and the Bombers.

Creeping Dangler. Hidden Monkey.

I’m thankful for the magic of Lego to entertain Swanson in local bars.

You Jealous, Julius?

…and also Swanson joining the Knights Templar (they have recruit offices in local tapas bars)

I’m thankful for bathroom-kitchens. Especially with a fireplace!

Put a TV in there and you’d never get me out!

I’m thankful for cheap-ass wine.

We didn’t go for this high-end stuff.

I’m thankful for the view from our place in Madrid (not really).

I’m thankful that crocs and witches who levitate babies are not welcome on escalators.

Nor is taking a poop it seems.

And I’m thankful for Thanksgiving dinner in Barcelona!