Monday, February 27, 2006

Little Happinesses

Last night William and I went out to get a video. Driving along Riverside Road, there was a dead skunk. In the middle of the road. Well, of course, you can guess what happened next. I had to start singing.

Several problems cropped up. I hadn't heard the song for so many years that I had completely forgotten how the melody went. And I couldn't remember any two lines that came one right after another, except for the chorus, which is pretty basic, just keep repeating "dead skunk in the middle of the road". This didn't stop me from singing. I just made up for it by singing more LOUDLY.

When we got home, I still had the song stuck in my head, and if it had to be stuck there, at least I'd like to be able to have it stuck there accurately, so I went to iTunes and for ninety nine cents, I downloaded it. I love technology for it's more important uses.

This morning, reading blogs, I was left with such a warm fuzzy feeling after reading Mad Organica's Dow-ner entry. The joy that is spending time with family, all the little inside jokes and family quirks that make your heart want to burst because life seems so juicy and full of good things. That made me think of driving down the road with William last night, singing a goofy song. And that made me decide to write today's blog on Little Happinesses.

Not BIG happinesses. Just the silly, little, every day ones that make life worth living. Big happinesses are, well, BIG. By their very nature, there's only so many of them per lifetime. You can't go around having BIG happinesses every day or even every week or month. It would be too exhausting, for one thing. And although they're impressive, like elephants for example, they take up too much room in life. If you have too many of them, you'd have a hard time doing things you need to do, like feed the dogs and wash the dishes and drive the kids to soccer practice.

But Little Happinesses, that's another animal altogether. Little Happinesses are like butterflies. You can incorporate butterflies into your life every day. In fact you can enjoy Little Happinesses while you feed the dogs and wash the dishes and drive the kids to soccer practice. They hardly take up any time or space at all. And yet, whatever form or shape they arrive in, Small Happinesses always change a day from ordinary to memorable.

So, in no particular order, here are a few of my Small Happinesses:

Singing goofy songs while driving along in the car. The goofier the better. Or if not goofy, then old classics that I know all the words to. Louie Louie. Tequila. (Yes, I know, there's only one word in the entire song, but you can do a shoulder dance inside your seatbelt.) Feliz Navidad. We Didn't Light the Fire. American Pie. The Lumberjack Song. Stacy's Mom. If I Had A Million Dollars.

Dancing. Not like this is very unusual. Lots of people dance. But do they dance in the Produce Department of the local supermarket? In the movie theatre? At a football game? In the park? I thought not. I do.

Wearing goofy hats.

Funny socks.













Red shoes.

Making really bad puns. And then laughing at my own jokes.

Chatting with strangers.











Buying and using specialty scented soaps. Lavender oatmeal, gingerbread, milk and honey, sage and citrus....

Going through old photographs








Using chopsticks

When the phone rings and it's one of my kids calling to say they haven't talked to me in a while (meaning, in a couple of days) and they just wanted to say "I love you" - or, vice versa, calling them.









Deciding which book to read next








Selecting my next cuppa...... Earl Grey? Vanilla Almond Black? Lavender Rose? French Roast? Apple Cinnamon Witche's Brew? Green Tea Latte? Irish Breakfast?






Choosing which tea or coffee cup to drink from

One eyed cars - or as I call them, Padiddles. It started in high school, on the streets of Albuquerque, New Mexico. If you were driving around with your buddies and saw a one-eyed car, you all raced to "get it." To "get it", you had to lick your thumb, take the wet thumb and press it on your other palm, then make a fist and hit that palm. If you were the first one, you got the padiddle. Three padiddles in a night and you could make a wish. Now I live in a small town with very little traffic, so the tradition has been adapted - you don't have to fight for the padiddle, everyone who does the lick, thumb, hit thing get to share the padiddle. Three in one day and you make a wish.

Checking my e-mail and discovering I have some personal mail










Playing a hand of solitaire. The old fashioned way. With a real pack of cards. The feel of them in your hands. The little shuffling and slapping sounds they make when you handle them.

The sky - finding shapes in the clouds, watching for shooting stars, picking out Orion's belt or the North Star, watching a storm roll in

Going out in my garden and nibbling.

1 Comments:

Blogger Lady Ellen said...

You forgot the SMELL of a deck of cards. That waxy odd unique scent of cards old or new. :) hugs kiddo :)

4:47 PM  

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