An Awful Lot of Happy

It’s been a rough few weeks with my mother, and there are no signs it’s going to be over any time soon.

But I don’t feel like writing about that, and I don’t feel like thinking about extremist politics or my dishwasher that’s wonky or what’s wrong with my latest manuscript.

So here, for a change, are some of the nice things I’m thinking about:

·       This fence festooned with roses borders the path down to the beach.  The house pictured belongs to that fence, and its gardeners make sure that it blooms every May.  Even on a foggy day, that fence cheers me up.

·       Yesterday I snapped at a lovely friend for a comment she made on Facebook that upset me.  She wrote back the most beautiful, heartfelt apology.  It made me see yet again that knowing how to apologize authentically and sincerely is one of life’s great gifts.  If we could all manage that, the world would feel different.

·       I am wearing a scarf that I bought yesterday when I was shopping with my daughter.  It is pink and orange and frothy and frilly and I love it.

·       We are having chicken tonight.  I gave up eating breasts when I realized that I really only liked the drumsticks and thighs, and now I could eat chicken five nights a week.  (Yes, I know the breasts are healthier.  I don’t care.  I drink alcohol twice a month and have given up wheat and sugar.  I am sure the gods will make an allowance for me on the chicken legs.)

·       I am reading Nemesis, by Philip Roth.  It is a love story to wartime Newark, and it is also about polio.  It is one of those books that I have to force myself to read slowly, so I won’t finish it too fast.

·       Today in spin class, I arrived wearing my hair the way I usually do, instead of pulled back, in preparation for sweating.  The teacher and one of the students raved about my hair.  “How do you look so good in the morning?” the student said.  (Note: I have decided I get to brag about this, because I have the kind of hair that not everybody likes, and I got teased for it when I was little.  My blog, my rules.)

·       This week, my son and his girlfriend are driving up to their new apartment to paint it.  My daughter is going to help them.  I am going to bring them food and maybe help a little, and mostly just sit back and feel joy.

There’s more, but I’m going to stop, because that’s an awful lot of happy, and I don’t want to push the gods too far, especially when they might still be pissed about the chicken.