Thanksgiving has come and gone, and homesick Americans in Moscow may have missed the usual trappings: There was no Macy's parade, no marathon of American football on television, no jammed airports, crawling interstates or family reunions.


I, for one, was thankful to skip the football, although I have to admit that I have always been a sucker for the first "Jingle Bells" of the season.


For the uninitiated, Thanksgiving is an American holiday in remembrance of some early settlers, the Pilgrims, who prepared a feast in thanks for their first harvest, invited the Indians who had taught them to plant corn, and started the great tradition of eating turkey and pumpkin pie. It is celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November -- I have no idea why.


It is a time for counting one's blessings and for consuming vast quantities of food. As I gathered with my friends to mark the occasion, I decided to conduct a small poll on what my fellow adoptive Muscovites were giving thanks for this year. Some grinches just refused to get into the spirit.


"Things to be thankful for in Moscow? That will be a short column," said one cynical young American.


That's no attitude. The myriad opportunities for being grateful here put Moscow high above the median on the thanksgiving scale. The trick is to get one's priorities straight.


For example, I am deeply grateful that I am in Moscow -- the most exciting city in the world right now. But on days when the joy wears thin -- when the weather and the crowds and the dirt and the crime and the fatigue and the rudeness get the better of me, I try to think small.


So when I pad to my bathroom on a cold grey morning and stretch my hand out to touch warm pipes, I whisper a little "thanks" to the hot-water deity, who seems infinitely more capricious in Russia than he is in other parts of the world.


But an arctic sponge bath on a frigid January morn is not the worst thing in the world. One hot-waterless day I was complaining when a coworker walked by and snorted, "I didn't have any water at all this morning. So be thankful that you had cold, at least!" Right. A lesson learned.


"I'm grateful for those sheets with the holes in them to stick your blankets in," said one friend. "You know, the pododeyalniki? They make it so easy to make my bed in the morning." She paused for a moment to reflect. "I am also grateful for my Russian friends, and how supportive they are when I'm depressed. But on balance, I'd have to say I feel more strongly about the pododeyalniki."


One high-minded acquaintance said: "I'm grateful that we have political stability. It's nice not to see tanks in the street on the way to work."


A wistful smile crossed his face. "And kiosks. I am really grateful when I find a well-stocked kiosk."


A restaurant-owner expressed thanks that car bombs were not used extensively in his line of work. Now there's a Moscow blessing for you.


"Dry feet" was another offering. "My boots are always springing holes. If I get to work without stepping in a puddle, I'm grateful," a colleague volunteered. Then a broad smile. "I have other reasons, too." From the light in her eye, I'd have to guess that dry feet actually rank pretty low on her thanks list this year.


So you see, there's a lot more to a Moscow Thanksgiving than a $60 frozen turkey.