Happy Things

A few weeks ago as this latest season of thanks was blown in on the cool, fall breeze, I began my annual tradition of reflecting on the things for which I'm overwhelmingly grateful. Obviously I have an infinite number of reasons to humbly offer my gratitude to the Almighty, and trust me I do - obsessively. But, aside from the never changing blessings of my faith, health, job and freedom - I have an eclectic list of things that bring me joy. Here is a small, by no means exhaustive, list of some of my most recent, favorite, "happy things":

* Run on sentences, keep reading and you'll see why; it would be truly impossible for me to blog or journal without them!

* Good, original, funky, contemporary art with amazing colors, interesting composition and unexpected form, it has made decorating my place so much more exciting, especially when I find something unique that no one else will ever have.

* Hummus, I think I should invest in it because I eat it almost every day without fail. I like all varieties and shovel it in like a starving, desperate woman instead of a civilized, obviously well-fed American. It's too good for me to pass up and I hope I never have to live without it. Yummy!


* Pedicures are such a delightful way to spend an hour, what could be better than someone massaging my feet and calves, putting goopy, smelly green stuff on my feet and scrubbing off my callouses to reveal soft, smooth skin all before painting my toenails in lovely shades of "Rosy Mistletoe" (complete with daisies to decorate my big toe), "Let Them Eat Cake", "Smokin' in Havana" or "Grand Canyon Sunset"?

* Mineral makeup that doesn't cake or sink into the "fine lines" that have sprouted on my once smooth face. This stuff is great, comes with an SPF of 15 and doesn't fade as quickly as liquid makeup, which I loathe anyway; it also doesn't rub off on my clothes and does a fairly decent job of covering my "spots" as my nephew likes to call them. I'm a believer and there's no goin' back now, look for me on the next infomercial!


* Soy Chai, from Starbuck's to Serina's I don't care just serve it to me hot and I'm happy, this stuff is ADDICTIVE (thanks for getting me hooked Serina) and a very nice treat when the weather is cool and I'm tired of diet soda.

* 1010987. I LOVE those 7 digits because dialing them symbolizes one of the best parts of my week, the chance to talk to Laurie for a good hour or two, even if it is usually at some horribly early hour on this side of the Atlantic when I should be snoring, but instead find myself dialing the magic numbers that let us stay connected, INEXPENSIVELY, even though there are thousands of miles and 7 hours between us.

* Cheap gas - $1.65/gal yesterday, I haven't paid that little since 2005!!! Although as a side note, I must add that I would be even MORE grateful if "W" and Dick would try to rectify at least one of their many booboos and "encourage" their greedy, price-gouging, CEO friends to refund us lowly middle class folk for all of the overpriced gas we were forced to purchase the past 3 years....okay, back to happy things!

* Silence - which mostly brings me peace, serenity and rest, especially if I have my candles lit and the air is scented with a mix of spices, and I'm wearing my pink plaid flannel jammies. I crave silence, which scares me on some level because it confirms that I have officially turned into an old fogey, as evidenced by my near panic attacks at the thought of too much noise and/or chaos, unless I'm at a concert or something, at which point silence is way overrated. But, I have to be honest and admit that sometimes I can't stand the silence and freak out and become completely irrational and difficult to handle. This usually occurs when I'm in the throes of PMS and as Laurie, Serina or Steph can attest to, it's NOT pretty, which leads me to my next happy thing.....

* Girlfriends. How would anyone of us survive our emotions, men, families, fashion and PMS without a girlfriend, or two, or three, or four, to listen to us whine, moan, kvetch, vent and over analyze every word, action, deed or encounter we have with every single person in a given day? And HOW would we ever go to the bathroom alone or know what to expect when contemplating hair dye, new laundry detergent, lipstick shades and the best shampoo? Impossible to imagine.

* Malibu Castle - okay, to be honest I don't really love this place for me, BUT I do love to spend time with my nephews and THEY love this place, so that means I love it by default because it makes them happy and I get to watch and participate in their happiness, which in turn makes me happy! Got that?

* Road trips are still fun even after experiencing so many of them, especially when I don't have to drive - watching the miles pass by, wondering about the drivers and passengers in other cars, singing with abandon, keeping an eye out for the next bathroom, trying to figure out how to read the map/directions so we don't get horribly lost in an unfamiliar city - been there, done that! (note to self - on a map, "W" is an abbreviation for "West" not our outgoing President......)

* My Personal Trainer - as I type this I'm forcing myself to be grateful because her idea of a workout is more like my idea of torture. And since she won the battle of wills today I can barely walk, instead I'm kind of hobbling like a pirate with a peg leg after pushing 260 pounds with my calves. Do I hear a collective ouch? BUT, when I get out the measuring tape and see that I have lost 3 inches off of my waist and 3 inches off of my hips I become exceedingly grateful that she has a sadistic side, so I'm signing up for more torture and investing my money in the gym, the stock market is too volatile anyway!

* India Palace - the BEST Indian Food in San Antonio. Which means I should thank Rene for introducing me to my favorite haunt....and Lane for making sure I get my fix on a regular basis....and Laurie for indulging me when she would rather have had Mexican food....and Amy for trying something new when I had a craving and an interview across the street. Oh, the list goes on and on.....India Palace is a VERY happy thing!

* Clay Casa - even though I'm a "wannabe" when it comes to art, this place lets me be creative in a variety of ways - painting pottery, piecing together mosaics, glass fusion and now silver jewelry molding. Woohoo!!! AND, my niece usually goes with me so I get to spend 3 hours of quality time being creative with her, which is more fun than spending 3 hours being creative alone, unless I'm in my silent mode.....

* Family, even the crazy ones. They make me laugh (and cry) and give me someone to "blame" for my neurosis. They also remind me of where I come from and sometimes scare me with visions of how I'll look when I'm old......Dad, did you HAVE to pass on your chin and thighs to me??? Seriously, those really should have gone to the boys!

* Friends, people who love me, or TRY to because they WANT to, NOT because they have to. WOW, it's completely overwhelming to share my very messy life with people who could easily and with good reason choose to walk away from my complicated, neurotic self. Thanks for sticking it out with me. Because you love me well and practice the type of community modeled by Christ I have found deep healing and a safe place to discover who I am. For you I'm most grateful.

Nostalgia

Nostalgia is one of the bittersweet by-products of getting older. Reminiscing about the years gone by; looking back at who I used to be; seeing who I am today; looking forward to who I have yet to become. Sometimes there are tears as I confront the dying dreams of my youth. But usually I find serenity when I start digging in their rubble, because despite pain and disappointment, my life is good, and full, and happy. And for that, I'm grateful.

Last weekend was full of nostalgic digging for me. I felt like I was stuck in a time warp as I was transported to my youth during a reunion concert of one of my favorite artists. Granted, most of the concert-goers were, ahem, "aging", some more gracefully than others, and no one really stood or danced for long, (at least not like they did 20 years ago!) Yet, it was still fun watching the band, swaying to the rhythm, listening (and singing!) every word to songs I've known for 20-25 years. Remembering what they meant to me when most of my life was still stretched out before me. Knowing what they mean now as I approach the middle of my life. Wondering what they will mean when I'm old and gray and spend more of my time remembering than doing. Those 3-minute melodies formed the soundtrack of my youth and they always transport me back in time.

As the last strains of that soundtrack faded I traveled on to Tulsa to attend the wedding of my nephew, a man still in the prime of his life. Youthful, handsome, hopeful. It was moving to watch the man I remember as a little boy embrace his glowing bride. To observe my parents as their pride and joy, my brother, watched his own pride and joy enter a new stage of life. I don't think I've ever seen my brother "beam" as he did on that night. To catch a glimpse of nostalgia as it crossed my sister-in-law's face and momentarily clouded her stunning blue eyes with tears. To sit and know the groom's sister, my niece, as an equal, a fully grown, married woman instead of the girl she once was. It was deeply moving and powerful to watch all of these things with the memories of soccer games, dance recitals, graduations and travels swirling around in my head. How has time passed so quickly?

As nostalgic as I sometimes am for the carefree days of my 20s, other than Laurie moving back, I usually don't ever want things to go back to how they used to be. Too many painful wounds that I'd rather leave alone. So, although I allow myself some nostalgia, I'd rather move forward, learn, grow, live and love. Freely. Openly. Vulnerably. Peacefully. And so I am.

Most Embarrassing Moment #3

Once upon a time there was a young teen (yours truly) who was gifted with an extensive underwear collection by her lovably eccentric Grandma Jim. (Yes, she had a boy's name - long story.) And since I was the first granddaughter she went all out when it came to outfitting me in cute, girlie delicates.

Now Grandma Jim didn't buy plain white undies, no sirree, she bought undies with characters on them, like whales and ladybugs and fairies - great when you're 3 - not so much when you're 15! Every birthday and Christmas brought a blush to my cheeks as I was "encouraged" to hold up my gifts and display them so my family could ooh and ah. Sometimes Grandma went off the radar and bought outrageous gifts like a "jeweled spider hair bun holder thingy" (I still have it as proof of her eccentricities) but no matter what she always kept me well-stocked in underwear. And I wore them because I didn't know any better and I figured no one else would see them.

I WAS WRONG.

One hot, humid, East Texas, summer day my youth group took a trip to Astroworld. We piled in the blue and white church bus and sang silly songs for the drive to the theme park. We were obnoxious dorks but we sure had fun! We were also daredevils and rode EVERY scary ride from the gigantic roller coaster to the "Screamer". AND we were hot. REALLY hot. So we rode the log ride and "Thunder" OVER and OVER to cool off with the splashes of icy water. It made the humidity and hot Texas sun infinitely more bearable.

There I was, my undies safely hidden beneath a very cute magenta skort. Until I rode the log ride and discovered that magenta becomes transparent when it gets wet. So I got to walk around Astroworld, trying not to cry as all of my friends and every stranger noticed that my undies were decorated with little blue whales. And that, my friends, is why I buy plain white underwear.

Showerhead Bliss

Ahhh, I'm in heaven. After months of ongoing showerhead trauma I finally did it, I broke down and bought a new one. Yes, I know I could have called the landlord, Ray, but I'm pretty sure he would have just tried to fix the old one, he's cheap that way. Plus, I have "space" issues, meaning I don't like the maintenance man in my space - EVER. So, I decided that daily bliss from a shiny, new showerhead was a great return on a $20 investment. You know what? I was right. I'm MUCH happier now because the spray is steady and the temperature is just right, and I can even adjust the dial and get a little massage, which is F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S after a hard workout! And not to be TOO geeky, but it is Eco-friendly and has a nifty little button that lets me turn off the flow while I'm washing my hair, THAT makes me feel better about taking long showers. (Hey, with my hair it can take 10 minutes just to rinse!)

Now it's on to more pressing matters like the peeling paint in the tub. You see, before I moved in Ray had the tub and sinks "refinished". The sinks have held up fairly well, but not so the tub. It's truly one of the worst refinishing jobs I've ever seen, not that I've really ever seen any refinishing jobs, but I'm just sayin'..... Anyway, the first time I took a bath the paint started bubbling. The next time it started peeling. So can you guess what I have been doing for the past 18 months? Yep, I've been peeling paint every time I take a bath. It's actually cathartic in some ways, kind of like when I peel my skin after a sunburn.... I challenge myself to peel a longer strip each time, and I'm happy to report that I've almost completed the job. All of my hard work has revealed a shiny tub underneath. I can't even figure out WHY the tub was refinished to begin with, but I'm really hoping it had nothing to do with lead or anything toxic! He could have invested that money into replacing the disgusting carpet or feeble dishwasher. But no, he decided to refinish a perfectly good bathtub, which means I get to explain to houseguests why it's partially unfinished now, thus implicating myself in the peeling process...... Thanks Ray.

Daihatsus, Dumptrucks & Electric Cars

Many adults around my age look back on their childhood and chuckle at the cars their parents drove. Huge Buicks, ugly station wagons, Pintos.......UGLY, UGLY, UGLY! But if there were a contest in embarrassing cars of our youth, I would certainly win HANDS DOWN. To be fair, let me clarify: my parents drove some normal cars, like the Subaru station wagon, the Cadillac El Dorado and the Oldsmobile '88, but believe me when I tell you there were some humdingers.

Like this lovely little Japanese import - the miniature Daihatsu:

Or the bane of my 15th year, the dump truck, complete with a wooden bed, only our model was a disgusting shade of green resembling poo.....More on this little gem later in a post about THE most embarrassing moments in my life!

And I can't forget the electric car. My parents were proud owners of one of the earliest models, a "City Car" to be exact, but ours was white.....and it resembled a cheese wedge crawling down the street, (I'm pretty sure it couldn't go faster than 40-50 mph). Of course, we also had to stop and charge it every few hours, or during a rain storm......

There was also a Triumph motorcycle with a white side car, a motor home, a wench truck (similar to a tow truck but the wench pole is bigger), a miniature yellow Honda, and the multi-colored and rusting "to-do" truck, aptly named because there was so much work "to-do" on it.....Ugh, told you I would win!