first, second and turd draft

It eventually had to happen. I had to have a happiness post regarding my potty brain and scatological sense of humor. Maria, a colleague of mine, shared with me an essay her daughter wrote for her senior English class. I asked for permission to use it on this blog, and I was granted permission. Thank the great whatever that the Murray clan see life and writing as I do. I present the following, in its entirety, to put a smile on the faces of those who read it.

Disclaimer: If you are sensitive to hearing about bodily functions and are easily upset by it, do not continue reading this chapter and skip to the next one.

It was a nice evening in December and my family and I had just finished having chili at my mom’s best friend’s house. We were driving home in the dark in silence, enjoying the white snow falling lightly down against the darkness of the sky when all of a sudden it started. We all gagged at once and didn’t know what was going on until my father laughed. He had just attempted to kill the family by gassing us.

Luckily we turned into the driveway just in time and my mother, brother, and I ran to safety in her room upstairs. We could hear my father running up after us. We barricaded the door with our bodies while he was slamming against it to get in. When he figured his attempts were futile, the silence overcame us. We hesitated to go outside because we knew he’d be there waiting to gas us again. There was no way we’d survive a second gassing. Then all of a sudden - we heard movement, and a noise coming from underneath the door. He had somehow managed to direct the gas underneath into the door crack. We quickly grabbed pillows and pulled them to our noses while I found blankets and robes to stuff under the door. Finally, we were safe.


Disgruntled, we heard him walk down the stairs. My mom yelled down that he wasn’t sleeping upstairs tonight, and my brother and I were afraid to be alone in our rooms, so we quickly snuck outside into open territory and grabbed our sleeping gear. Retreating back into the safety of my mother’s room, we replaced the safety seal to the door and began to listen for the enemy downstairs. We heard the familiar creaking as he reclined in his chair. Had he settled in to watch T.V.?

I was the first to hear the creak of his chair. We then heard the basement door open slowly and wondered what on earth he could be doing. We didn’t hear him come upstairs though, so we considered ourselves safe. Perhaps he was just turning off the power or the hot water? Then, it hit us. The gas had somehow gotten upstairs into the room! We heard him tear up the stairs to hear our gags. My mom screamed out “How did you do that, you sick bastard?”

“Easy, the furnace’s cold air return.” Triumphantly.

Events like this are quite common in my family. We think nothing of farting or poop jokes other than that they are hilarious. Dinner table conversation? Of course! In front of new friends? Why not?


It is pretty much impossible to enter my house without experiencing this. No one has been bothered by it as far as I know; at least they all pretend to think it’s funny. My family thinks that people are weird if they do not enjoy a good laugh after hearing a fart. It never gets old.

But the real story goes on behind closed doors. Like the surprise gas attack, we find it best to shock each other with random gifts. For example, I once went to use the bathroom when I saw that the toilet seat was down and there was a sign taped on the lid saying “Mike’s Room, Do Not Flush,” in childish script. This should have warned me not to open the toilet but I really had to go. Tentatively peering into toilet I saw an interesting bowel movement sitting in the water. Apparently, my brother wanted to save this one as a pet. I heard him come running from his room. “Katy you can’t use that bathroom! Go downstairs!” Because I did not wish to fight with him in my current state of hurry, I obliged and agreed it would be funny to let my parents discover Mike the Turd for themselves.

Another time, I was woken up by the sound of shrieking laughter so intense that I couldn’t go back to sleep. I don’t think my mom was capable of breathing she was laughing so hard. Of course, I knew that I would be shown whatever they were laughing about and soon my mom came and summoned me. She told me that my dad had pooped a lizard, with a head, two arms, and a tail and it was bobbing its head up as if to breath. As repulsive as that sounds, it was pretty entertaining.

I can often tell when my mom has bad gas because she’ll come running into my room while I’m sleeping and demand that I sleep on the floor because “your father is snoring.” So because I can sleep anywhere and I am already so tired, I agree, and she gets into my bed while I settle in onto the floor. One particular time she began to quietly giggle and soon I found out why without needing to ask. She turned on the ceiling fan and quickly I began to gag. She had farted and turned on the fan in order to force the dense air down to the ground like smog near me. Soon she was in stitches while I was crying. Great memories.

My mom has a talent with gas. She usually goes through phases with her farts. What I mean by this is that she farts different noises. Legend has it that one time she farted the word “Mom.” My father thought that I was in the room asking for her. Another time, she went through a phase where her farts all sounded like a duck quacking. This was her favorite, and she was disappointed when it ended. Our parrot soon learned to imitate the phase that sounded like little bubbles coming up from the surface of water and popping. (There is no better way to describe this.) This phase has since ceased but the Twyla continues to carry on its legacy.

She also taught me important skills I can use to impress my friends. She taught me all about “wafting” – lifting a blanket gently with your feet to force the gas into the direction you require. “Cupping” requires farting into your hand and quickly covering the person’s nose and mouth next to you. They have no choice but to breathe in what’s in your hand. She has, in addition, perfected “throwing” her farts. No one else I know can do this, but it is exactly what it sounds like.


I can not pretend that I do not take part in my families’ passion for these things. As a young girl, I once indulged in too many cooked pumpkin seeds. I felt fine until about one in the morning. Mom awoke to hear me crying in the bathroom. I had terrible gas and I had more pain than I had ever felt before or since. She sat with me until we both thought I shattered the toilet seat with my fart. My dad was woken up by this and yelled to my mom to see if she was okay. He couldn’t believe it came out of me. I then went back into my bedroom feeling just fine and fell right asleep. None of us have ever heard anything as intense as that fart, and never expect to again. It’s now part of Murray Family History.

The 6th Period Balloon Throwback Memory

During the end of the day, Senior Creative writing and exhaustion, a hobby began where my students tried to carry forth with more learning, but it didn't occur unless we blew up a balloon and kept it afloat. This ritual became therapeutic, actually, and my reflection on it brings me happiness.

Balloons are good friends to have. The 'tives brought them in my house over Easter and I like bouncing them about -- hence this throwback. My sister's dog Gus, too, enjoys the endless fun he can have attacking them. Such a simple, cheap and easy way to find entertainment.

Looking at the three balloons floating about my house, I decided I'd reenact a Balloon-Volley festival, but I can say it is not thrilling to be a lone sportsman. Even so, bouncing a balloon about is joyous. I highly recommend it.

Happiness is a warm Puppy

I opted to google happiness tonight and click on images. I couldn't believe I found this book cover on the first page. As a kid, I used to go to my grandparents' house in Hamilton, New York, and one of my first rituals, after getting a hug, a kiss and a pat on the poo poo from Grannie Annie, was to read "Happiness is a Warm Puppy." I loved that book.

See, even as a wee one, I was on a pursuit of good times and positive energy.

I sent my dog to the Baby-sitters last night, a.k.a. my parents -- even so, happiness is a warm puppy. They currently have the warmth of that dog.

In reality, happiness is puppy breath, which Baby no longer has. Either way, if you have a warm fuzzy friend, be sure to hug him/her extra hard today.

Budding Optimism

Running yesterday, I noticed several of the trees are beginning to bud. It's still freezing here, but the trees are as anxious for spring as I am (and the frog who came to my driveway the other night....cold, barely moving, and in need of a warm house - note: I nursed him for two minutes and thought, what the heck am I doing with a frog in my house in March? I put him outside in a tree).

Anyway, things are about to bloom, and as I've always said, Spring is optimistic...Summer a lie, Fall, a promise and winter, the truth. I am looking forward to optimism again and as I looked out the window last night, I loved seeing the black silhouettes of the budding trees against the blue sky of a setting sun.

Bring on the better days.

Easter Bunny, Bawk Bawk

I haven't celebrated Easter in years. I haven't celebrated Easter with my family in over a decade. But, to stick with the plan laid out by my niece this summer, I had Easter dinner at my house (with a Cadbury egg in every coffee cup). I baked a ham, made creamed potatoes and set up a mini-eatery for the nine guests. They began arriving around noon and stayed long enough to find themselves duck taped and on my linoleum floor -- true story. We chopped wood, watched NCAA basketball, played Dweebs, Geeks and Weirdos, slept on the couch, and ate ourselves silly. I suppose some, hmmmm....hmmmm, hint hint, my sisters....hmmmm, hmmmmm, drank themselves silly, too.
It felt right to have this ritual occur at my house and even though I live like a hobbit, we all managed to fit on top of one another quite nicely. It's sort of interesting that I have the smallest house of everyone in my family, yet my holiday seemed to have the biggest staying time of guests. Perhaps I can credit this to the wine and beer.

Happiness is family....for sure (and the cheesecake helps).

Deep Thoughts

As I age, I find myself thinking more and more often about the brilliance of Jack Handey from Saturday Night Live where he promoted his intellectual brilliance. Deep Thoughts, by Jack Handey (click on the link to go to more) was profound insight that tends to be overlooked in our modern, cyber-global tomfoolery..

In 2008, we need more intelligent meandering and I'm all for additional insight for my life. I applaud Jack Handey and hope he continues to add wisdom to a world in much need of sage thinking.

I tried to post an actual clip of one of his thoughts from You Tube, but they are cheesy and there's nothing like the real thing, so I recommend visiting the Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey Website it is worth it.

Ah, Sea Food

The closer you live to an ocean (in my case the Atlantic), the fresher the sea food, in this case scallops, shrimp and Mali Mali. Dr. Felicia McMahon of the Clay Cow project, took me to dinner last night and the food was delicious. Honestly, I don't know if I've ever had better, plumper scallops. Yum. I'm still tasting them.

I love good see food, and I am remembering a time when Judy and I visited my relatives in Long Island and my cousin and his now wife, Sue, took us to the Clam Shack outside of Amagansett. Mark had surfed all day and when we were eating our mussels, his sinuses released all the salt water out of his nose and it poured into his lap. I never knew such a thing occur but in surfer-world, it's par for the course. While I was stewing over the strangeness of his nostril faucet, I bit into a muddy mussel that was all sea dirt and I ended up spitting it out into my napkin: Black goo. Another reality from the sea that I wasn't privy, too.

Last night, though, there was no drudge or saltine waterfall, it was only excellent sea food. Such delicacy makes me happy.

Post St. Patty's, All about Tonight

I grew up at the Clam Bar. I found Hacks and The Ratt while studying as an undergraduate at Binghamton University. It wasn't until I matured that I found the Irish Rover in Louisville, Kentucky. Here, I spent more money than I can justify on dinners, good beer, and atmosphere....and I regret that the only night I didn't go with Alice and Charlie, they were given a free meal (the joke was always because I WASN'T there). Either way, the Irish Rover in Louisville, Kentucky was my once, perhaps twice, ritual every week with my best friends. There, I can't even describe it, we talked non stop about life: humor, politics, ideas and growth. It was pure happiness. There was never a bad time.

Tonight, Alice and Charlie called me from the Rover and we caught up. I wish I could describe in words how much that atmosphere and the two of them mean to me. Not only the fish and chips, Smithwicks, Guinness, New Castle, and Harps, but the conversations that we could share out of ten years of building trust. Irish Rover nights justify a ritual that can not be captured in words. When they called tonight, and with knowledge they were at the Rover, I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and toasted the two them. We tried to talk as if I was there.

In heaven, there will be an Irish Rover. Alice, Charlie and I will be there, acting stupid, talking about issues that no one else will understand, and solving all the problems of the world. In my idea of Nirvana, good Irish ale and food will be omnipresent and the individuals I have to talk to will stimulate my thinking like these two do. What else can a living guy hope for?

to Scream or Not to Scream

I've tried to post this entry for over a week. I received the good advice that screaming is very cathartic and to yell is a good thing. So, I practiced, and you know what? Primal yelling is therapeutic and it releases endorphins which bring you back to silliness.

I recommending screaming. It will help.

Eggsellence

A change of plans resulted in decorating easter eggs last night. I haven't done that in years, and I don't think I've celebrated easter since I was in high school. It was that holiday where I was able to have an extra day to get grading done.

Tonight, my sister KC and her husband had their son dip eggs in vinegar for the first time. The faces that kid makes are priceless and you would think the exercise was the most amazing experience on earth.

I'm envious of those with children. They center the universe and put everything into perspective. Seeing him in such delight is irreplaceable.

Tis a strange holiday, but the ritual brings happy traditions and that is what it is all about.

National Geographic and A Moment of Clarity

Today, I thumbed through an issue of National Geographic and found a picture of a frog on a lily pad. On the next page, in Japanese, was a Matsuo Basho haiku from his series on frogs. It reads as follows:

Furu ike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto

and can be translated as:

Listen! a frog
jumping into the stillness
of an ancient pond

Another translation is:

The old pond;
a frog jumps in -
the sound of water (amazing how many translations there are on this given haiku -- evidence of small ripples of importance, indeed).

I fell in love with this moment today because of my affinity for frogs (and Grannie Annie) but also my understanding of this ancient pond. Life is old and we humans, with the idea of rationality, ascribe it with history. Sitting on a lily pad or swimming through a pond, I have life only for a moment. How I move matters. Yet, tomorrow, new frogs will arrive and another generation of lily pads will exist. Only the pond remains constant. Like Siddhartha's river, it provides a serenity of "om" beyond my individuality. Those who use its resource(s) are never permanent, although their actions can cause a slight ripple, if only for a moment.

Sort of like the Shakespeare "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow speech," eh?

Currently, I sit on a lily pad
I have a choice to jump.
For this moment, I'm choosing to appreciate the pond, itself, and not the ripples I make.

KEREN YOHANNES

Keren is here today! Rejoice!!

I didn't feel like bringing my laptop to her, and she didn't feel like getting up, so here is our photograph:



But wait! There's more!

I GOT INTO DEPAUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't know if you untheatre people know what that means, but that is hella amazing. I still don't believe it. I don't have many other words to say about it, but I have never cried so much out of happiness. I was crying for hours.

So there you go. This has been a good day.

Stay happy!
Knight Rodrick of Gluecklich
(That means "happy" in German. Thank you, student exchange!)

Desserts

Yesterday, I had dinner with my family and it was followed by a slice of Cherry Pie....just like I remember it as a kid. Although I've aged, find myself more and more attuned to the insanity of the world, and go in and out of diets, I will say that there is nothing better than a slice of good cherry pie.

Well, it could be better if it was served hot with a scoop of ice cream and a sliver of good dark chocolate AND it also could be better with a strong cup of coffee, but I can't drink coffee after breakfast because it wires me so I can't sleep.

So, if I had a slice of cherry pie for breakfast served with a good cup of coffee, I could bypass the ice cream and chocolate.

I'm a huge fan of any meal that is put before me by someone else and I applaud my mother for keeping a nightly dinner tradition alive. She did this when I was young, while she was a working woman, and now in her retirement (although Dad might argue not as often as it used to occur, and mom would counterattack with, "Butch, you got hands. You can cook, too." And then they can decide to go out for food, but that is not the point of this entry.

Today, this morning, it is all about cherry pies. Yum and happiness, always.

O'Happiness, Ye Shamrocks

What has come to be known to me as my last youthful Hoorah, Amy Partin and I traveled the perimeter of Ireland before settling at Cambridge University for Shakespeare studies. One of our stops was at the Giant's Causeway, a rock feature in Northern Ireland caused by what is assumed to be hot lava during a period of time before Kentucky teachers were funded to make such excursions.

Here, Amy and I came to the conclusion that we were completely irritated with our Australian travel mate we picked up in Dublin, and together, we bonded as sojourners of an American truth. Going through Limerick, the Bay of Dingle, Galway, and coming from Wales and the trout farms of England, stopping here to see this sight was amazing. We had with us our crazy romp in Bunduran, too, and we were very much alive.

In honor of St. Patty's Day, I post this experience as a moment in time that was beyond any words I can find to describe it. Such an occasion was miraculous, indeed.

Welcome to My Childhood: Veruca Salt is Such a Hot Biotch!

This is a happy shout out to, perhaps, the snottiest brat ever, and God I love her. She's such a wench. And there's the classic Wonka line, "A little nonsense now and then, relished by the wisest men."

I can never get enough of this classic.

The Happy Digest

This issue of the Happy Digest will serve for all the entries I should have made since Monday.
1) I started a new video project. I don't know if I've mentioned it here yet, and I'm not going to promote it big time just yet, but I'm happy it's begun.
2) I'm in New York
2a) I'm discovering old memories, old friends
2ai) I've had my favorite falafel, I've been to my favorite restaurant, I'm going to be seeing my old friends, I went to my storage space, and rooting through those boxes was like seeing old friends as well
2b) I have a dope apartment. Most of the sublets start on April 1, so I got an short-term apt 'til then
3) Keren Yohannes and Lucy Richardson are coming up on Sunday and Tuesday, respectively, for their Spring break
3a) My apartment has a big bed, a loft bed, and a futon, so they won't be unhappy!
4) I'm living on my own. I've realized that I've wanted to have a place of my own for a long time. It sucks that it's for such a short time, but at least I have a place to call my own for a bit
5) Andrew Gott called me Tuesday and told me he was in NY! I hung out with him and his dad later that night and we went and looked at the Statue of Liberty. I hadn't seen Andrew since July, so this was very nice
6) Having company in town is always a good excuse for doing touristy things. I think the inner rebel in me just doesn't want to do the touristy things because everyone else does them. You know? I don't want to do ALL of them, but I went to the Top of the Rock(efeller), and I cannot deny how amazing that was.
Fun fact: did you know that Olmstead, the guy who designed Louisville's park system, designed Central Park too?
I also saw the Uofl/Pitt game last night at Madison Square Gardens (first time I'd been there). It was a lot of fun. Sucks that we lost, though.
7) I was the #24 most viewed channel in my category on YouTube yesterday

Stay happy everyone,
Her Happesty, the Queen

P.S. Why don't y'all comment and tell us why y'all're happy today?

Snow, by Maxence Fermine

Felicia Viscome, a teacher at the local junior high school, loaned me a copy of the book SNOW by Maxence Fermine. It is poetic, short and nicely done. I began it as soon as it landed in my hand and finished it quickly last night.

In short, (and it is short), the book is a love story of a haiku poet, his master, their understanding of love & snow (the women in their lives), and their fate. It felt good to read this story, although I'm not sure why, other than the fact that it is a piece of art. There's nothing like reading a piece of art.

And so, the memory of such snow, will be with me today.

on the mountain's edge
i tiptoe ~ tapdancing hope
before horizons

Hot Dog, the Sudanese Rapper from Canada

Working with the Syracuse Sudanese men yesterday on creating their own website, they turned me onto a Canadian Rapper named, Mijok Lang, a.k.a. "Hot Dog" (the only Western food he knew how to eat when he arrived). He has his MYSPACE site running his music and I was able to find a YOUTUBE video, too.

I post this this morning because the irony of a shrinking global village amazes me. Here are African refugees showing me YOUTUBE videos and creating websites to discuss their Americanization process, while juggling full time jobs, full time school, and sending money to their families in both Kakuma and Nairobi.

As I used to tell my students, knowing the Sudanese lost boy story is to know everything wonderful and horrible about America. My work with their culture keeps everything in perspective. I'm happy I've been inducted into such familiarity.

Check out Dominic's new blog: The Dinka Daily!!!

The Road to Happiness

This road is definitely not drawn to scale, but I'm using it symbolically at the opportunity to finally get back outside, on the pavement, to run. The temperature was about 35 degrees and after walking the dog a couple of miles I decided I could run to my sister's house and have her drive me home. I'm currently on spring break and IT FEELS SO AWESOME NOT TO BE ON CAMPUS EVERY SINGLE NIGHT OF THE WEEK!!!.

So, this afternoon I hit the road and made my way under open sky, along trees and by houses. My knees hurt a little bit because of the cold (I've been running on a treadmill all winter and didn't realize my legs would feel a difference).

There is nothing like fresh air and space to move. It beats running in place on an indoor machine every time!

The happiness of art and genius

I've taken this art piece from Erin Lobb's blog while she's at Oberlin. To ease academic stress, she pours herself into a hobby of creation. I'm in awe of her talents and I've had this artwork on my desktop for a while now. I've wanted to post it, but I kept getting sidetracked. I am adding this piece of Erin's soul on my happiness blog and display it proudly, like I do another one that hangs in my guest bedrooms (the one of a thinking artist drawn as the words that make him who he is at that moment).

So, here's to the earlobe herself and for the joy she brings all who know her.

Andrew Gott is Here and he says HELLO.

The storms are done and Andrew Gott and his father, Tim, braved their way to the Northeast for college visits. They arrived last night at 8 o'clock, we ate dinner and then it was time for bed. A piece of Kentucky, both Brown and Western University, were represented at the table.

Andrew's a great human being. I could write more, but I'll let it stay simple. Before I drove home with all my stuff, he and I went to see the Chiefs play the Riverbats and discussed the world through its religions, our philosophies and where life will take us next. Both of us are the types of chaps that want to find meaning out of everything. Our ADD is never content with remaining calm.

Andrew brought some of his Astro-physics work with him and I can truly say I am happy I did not major in that field. Nope, my brain is not that of a scientist or mathematician. I thought the theory I've been reading lately was bad -- imagine trying to diagnose fractions of statistical data on universe star theory and light -- yes, people are paid to do that.

It was great seeing Andrew and his father again, and witnessing Baby, the dog, wanting to be loved by them. I remember looking at colleges myself and valued the opportunity to see new places. In some ways, I'm jealous of the doorway opening up for him, but know it is a beautiful time -- cave hopping that is.

Hmm

Getting what you want is not always what the goal in life should be, but can you blame me for finally getting what I want? I leave for NY today, in about 4 hours.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My original departure date was January 26, so you can imagine how much I was not expecting this.
I'm happy for another reason, but I don't want to bring it up just yet. I seem to be alone in this, but surprises make me happy, so I guess that's what I'm trying to set you up for.

Stay happy!
Princess and West Happia

Sean and I found this online.

My nephew wanted me to post this for everyone in the world so they can become happy. He's not two yet, but he did enjoy this video when we surfed the net over the weekend. He has his uncle's sense of humor I guess. He laughed, and so did I. I hope you will, too. It's beyond stupid and that's why we loved it.

Happiness comes from Coincidence

Ted Grace was a professor at Syracuse University in Reading and Language Arts before I arrived. Tonight, he was honored at Corcoran High School where a reading grove was celebrated in his honor. His wife, Jacquelyn, and several other story tellers animated his memory through tales and performance to pay respect for this amazing man who brought literacy to the community and a community to literacy. The weather was harsh, but travel was worth the celebration.

While talking to Ted Grace's wife, I told her a little bit about my work in Louisville and began talking about a man's poetry I used to teach. I was animated about Omanii Abdullah's collection, I Wanna Be The Kind of Father My Mother Was and told her about the success I had teaching it to students of yesteryear. I'm unsure why this entered the conversation, but Jacquelyn said, "You're not going to believe this, but Omanii is my brother-in-law and he's here tonight." The next thing I knew I was shaking his hand.



There is a complicated coincidence in how life presents itself and I am honored that tonight I attended this truly amazing event, but more importantly, I witnessed words I truly believe in. The fact that I was introduced to Omanii Abdullah, himself, was icing on the already delicious cake being served.

I am blessed.

Free to Be You and Me

For years, I taught this tiny script to promote student writing for ten minute plays. My sisters and I grew up singing from this Marlo Thomas Album and I can't help but recognize the liberal versus of this production is at the heart of my philosophy as a teacher.

You are free to be you, and I am free to be me.

How can we want anything else from our lives? Freedom is happiness.

Son of a Butch

It's my father's birthday and soon we'll be going to brunch at Cracker Barrel. I can't wait for this family time where I can eat a stack of pancakes with people I love. I love my father, immensely. I cherish the quiet times of fishing, the stress of always having to mow the lawn as a kid, and the lessons on being neurotic with snow removal. From him I learned hard work, trusting the job that feeds the family and that loyalty to friends trumps everything.

I sometimes try to rewind time to place myself in my father's role in the seventies and eighties, trying to see three kids graduate and get the "hell out of" his house. I think about those days as simple and carefree -- not as hectic and stressful as they seem to be now. But then I think that life was just as stressful back then, but my parents did a good job sheltering us from that. The fact that I can say I lived a joyous, simple childhood is evidence of the dedication taken by committed parents.

I think about the days my dad lit cow dung on fire underneath the streetlights of Sherburne, New York, or the times he fished for game trout illegally at a conservation site and I smile. All of us have youth, once, and then all of us have responsibility. I'm very happy to have been taught responsibility by good ol' Butch, and for this I am lucky.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Virtual Happiness

Okay, okay, can you blame me? I was supposed to leave for New York a month ago. Ever since that date passed, I keep thinking I'll be leaving in a couple weeks, so I don't need to make plans for what to do with my time. Thus began my YouTube craze. But I don't even care! Even when I still have things to do in Manhattan, I will be YouTubing.

That ends our explanation hour. Now onto the happy times:

Why I'm happy:

1. I HAVE TICKETS TO NEW YORK!! Plane tickets mean that I am FINALLY LEAVING!!! I leave Monday, and, if everything goes accordion to plan, I will not be back 'til mid-May

2. I posted my most successful video yet. It's the #19 Most Viewed activism video for today, and one of the highest-rated and most discussed activism videos for today!! I've never gotten so many comments and ratings! I've also gotten some new subscribers, so this is a pretty good day!

2b. THERE ARE MORE THAN 2000 VIEWS

3. (or 1b) Of course I'm happy that my video is getting seen and whatnot, but I'm especially happy because the video is actually about something important. It's about this Earth Day project that a girl started. Her goal is to have people pick up 1000 pounds of trash worldwide on Earth Day. That's what my video's about- I'm promoting the project, and I think it's awesome. Earth Day is still pretty far away, but why not start now?

Here's a link in case the video doesn't work





TWO THOUSAND!!!

Stay happy, all!
-Sir Happy the First

Another Happy Video

From last year's talent night at the J. Graham Brown School, it's Clayton and Emily and their fantastic pogo stick bonanza. Brown School.

boing Boing boing b o i n g B O I N G boing.

happiness is being politically incorrect, I believe

Marz Meyer sent me this video yesterday because, he said, it made him think of me. Instead of interpreting what this is supposed to mean, I've decided to post the video here because it's the thought that counts. I'm unsure of why this video connected Marz to his ol' English teacher, but it did make me happy. Sing along, kids.

Sunshine. Thank God for Sunshine

The sky was blue today. The sun was bright. The temperatures went slightly above freezing. I went for a long walk with the dog and loved that the world was lit and not gray. Sunshine can make a world of difference, especially when such occasions are so rare.

The Dinka Origins of Rap Music - Happiness from Cows

Dominic Duddy Mathiang sent me this YouTube video after he saw how pathetic my Saturday clay cow sculptures were. He wanted me to understand the importance of cattle to his people and to hear a traditional bull song that is sung in honor of a boy's bull -- a ritual of pride and prestige among the Dinka.

I went to the video and a smile came to my face. In 2008, a Sudanese man in America, a.k.a. a "Lost Boy," can locate a 'bull song' on YouTube and send it to an American who is clueless of this tradition. This is bizarre, but beautiful.

I admit, too, however, that it is also sad in light of the news placed before New York Time's audiences today by Nicholas D. Kristoff, "There will be more blood" -- a harsh prediction of future genocide in the Sudan and more tragic war over oil. Saving Darfur is nothing, he says, compared to what is coming.

Yet, for this posting, I am grateful to the fact that Dominic found this video for my American ignorance. How can I not be happy from such bovine utopia?

Diversity is 2008

I attended the Diversity Institute held yesterday at Syracuse University between Nottingham and Fayetteville Manlius High Schools. Asked to attend as a volunteer, observer and witness to the event, I sat with over 100 youth who were brought together to discuss the meaning of diversity in 2008. Such a setting made me feel alive for many reasons.

First, it was inspirational to hear young people discuss racism, classism and sexism as they experience it in today's schools. The most moving part of the day arrived in the afternoon when these teenagers craved more time and a forum for continued conversation. Recognizing that zip codes, addresses and school populations separate the validity of such conversations, the teenagers who were present at the institute made revelations about their place in the modern world. They wanted more time and more dialogue!!!

The day reinforced the magical power of what occurred everyday at the Brown School in Louisville, Kentucky, where diverse populations come together, daily, to make sense of American culture. It reenforced that schools designed for such conversations are not the public school norm.

Second, Dr. Micere Mugo of Kenya addressed why poetry, script and criticism is a necessity for educators and students in the modern world. Her voice professed the importance of artistic expression to promote a global understanding of individuality and voice. Her words were inspirational and I'm a better person for hearing them.

Finally, I met Andrea Barnewell of Interfaith Works who participates with one of the country's oldest, community wide dialogue programs to end racism alive in the nation. She sat at my table and did a marvelous job helping urban and suburban youth navigate the socially constructed spaces of their experience.

I left the day happy. I had a million other things to do with my snowy Friday, but the conversation that occurred at this place in time trumped any academic work I had on my plate. Here was a generation of juniors and senior questioning where they stood on such matters, while making sense of the progress America has made. The event, that I'm sure is one of many across the country, solidified a place for me in Syracuse.

Leapdate (it's a Leap Day Update!)

Rare Occurrences

Today is Leap Day. It is a day comes once every four years. It is a day, an extra day given to us so we can do something we normally wouldn't do. 366 days is crazy! Why don't you do something unusual and unexpected today, and then you can pretend it never happened, and then you'll be back down to 365.
I haven't decided what I'm doing today, but I can tell you this: it will involve leaping.

Stay happy!
Earl of Cheerville

A Thursday Night Break

There are many things I could post this morning: tattoos, piercings, Jack Daniels and Diet Coke, Samuel Adams Winter Ale, but instead I put the lobby of Rachel's at the Sheraton Inn at Syracuse University. Why? To take a break, because you've got to take them when you can.

There's something extremely important about stopping for a couple of seconds and debriefing on the processes of the moment with others who understand, a little, the need for a break.

Just sitting and watching -- listening -- without thinking, has its perks. Of course there's guilt for taking such time out, but it is the time out that helps one take another step forward. Suddenly, I understand CHEERS better. The Clam Bar of North Syracuse makes sense. Chubby's seems practical, and I miss the Irish Rover more than ever.

It is at these moments of time when one can feel much closer to their humanity.

A few Steven Wright one-liners

I've been thinking a lot about the one liners of Steven Wright. Like haiku poetry, his simplicity is an art form and I can't get enough of him. What an awesome reality it is to know someone can make a career out of their life using brilliant, concise observations of the world. I post a few examples, but recognize that space wouldn't allow for his true genius.

I bought some powdered water, but I don't know what to add to it.
-- Steven Wright

I was born by Caesarian section...but not so you'd notice. It's just that when
I leave a house, I go out through the window. -- Steven Wright

When I was little, my grandfather used to make me stand in a closet for five
minutes without moving. He said it was elevator practice. -- Steven Wright

I bought a dog the other day...I named him Stay. It's fun to call him...
"Come here, Stay! Come here, Stay!" He went insane. Now he just ignores me
and keeps typing. -- Steven Wright

When I woke up this morning my girlfriend asked me, "Did you sleep good?" I
said, "No, I made a few mistakes." -- Steven Wright

I hate it when my foot falls asleep during the day because that means it's
going to be up all night. -- Steven Wright

I intend to live forever - so far, so good. -- Steven Wright

Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines. -- Steven Wright

What happens if you get scared half to death twice? -- Steven Wright

A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking. -- Steven Wright

Abolishing Addictions

Well, the title sounds harsh.
I think that knowing that you are still alive without things you think you "need" or are addicted to is a happy thought. I took an entire day off from the internet. Being home for this long, it feels like I have so little to do. I was surprised when thoughts ilke, "What did I used to spend my time doing?", kept popping into my head. I designed a coat (if you want to facebook stalk, I posted it on my friend's wall the other day), I watched the jazz being performed in my basement... it was such a good day. I think that knowing that I didn't die after that day assures me that I am not addicted to the internet. I can live without it and I can stand to have less of it cluttering up my life.
What can you live without? What are you strong enough to give up for a day? A month? A lifetime?

Also, if I'm not mistaken, today is naked day. In the middle of winter. Why?

Stay happy,
Duke of Feliz Ciudad

Happiness is Placing the Now into Perspective

A butterfly from my past (a.k.a. Kimmie) sent this poster today when I admitted a nervous breakdown to her via email. I want happiness, choose happiness, crave happiness, but get lost at times with the pursuit and ambition of my other wants/needs/desires. I've been revisiting the Greeks in my thoughts and the origin of happiness: to "hap" upon luck...which is not common. True happiness is a lucky occurrence if we can find it. The art is training ourselves in finding it in the moment that actually is. This is easier said than done, but I am trying and will continue to try. It is true that the first "plays" were split between comedy and tragedy. Both go hand in hand in a ying~yang fashion. Knowing both is the only way to find meaning in both. The pursuit is the goal.

Being Special, A Happy Reminder

I made this little video this morning to put a little silly into a silly little mood I'm in. The song was/is thematic to my world view.

Slip Into Happiness

Happyslip!
Her most recent video is the most relevant, but the whole channel is about HAPPINESS!!!



Stay happy!
-Princess of Happyton

From Jed Kasey

Jed "tagged" this photo for me from the last day of school last year. Anitra is the woman in the middle: Brown's security guard and librarian assistant. Sent to me out of the blue, the photograph made me happy.

Dominic Duddy Mathiang

Today, while sculpting clay cows with the Sudanese men, Dominic recited a poem and I recorded it. He wrote it in Kakuma refugee camp in his 7th year and memorized it for his arrival in the United States. His poetry made me happy this morning (as did an actual run outside in the sun on roads that were clear of ice for once -- it was still cold, though)

Something I think about a lot

The clip speaks for itself.

Always make the same mistake twice

Excuse the YouTube humor

You thought I forgot about this, didn't you.
Stay happy,
Queen of Happystan

good ol' Emerson motto

My morning began with shoveling snow. Baby, who assisted me by following my every step on the driveway, then decided she didn't want to come inside. Instead, she took off in a slow trot. As I approached her, she ran further. This game took place for almost a mile and a half before we were both running. When I finally got her to stop and could leash her, I had to walk her home. I did this with optimism (and a t-shirt w/ sweats -- I was cold). When I got to my house, I slammed the door to let her know I was mad. I heard a bang behind me and noticed it was my "Emerson" plaque that Kirsten Perra gave me when I first moved to Louisville. It fell to the floor and I took it as a symbol that I needed to pay attention to.

Life is suffering. That is a Buddhist belief. Yet, we can approach life through a philosophy of happiness. That is a choice. It's hard at times and I don't like my angry self. Ah, but to know anger, is to appreciate the peace that much more.

Two things presented happiness to me yesterday.

Item #1 was a use for the monarch butterflies I salvaged from reams and reams of copier paper during my summer employment at Syracuse University. I couldn't let the butterflies on the packaging go to waste and so I tried to save as many as I could. This was a whacky obsession that I forgot about until I heard from Kimmie Kasey and suddenly I knew why I saved them. Between her truth and passion, and my grandmother's love of butterflies, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't cut them out.


Item #2 is that Baby enjoyed the fact I was online blogging and wanted to see what I was doing. She jumped into my lap, full body, and laid across the keyboard. She somehow managed to pull "photo booth" on and I was able to catch a shot of her in my lap. How can I not be happy about that?

Happiness from Being Stuck in Traffic?

I shouldn't celebrate a traffic jam, but I'm going to anyway. I knew when I approached downtown Syracuse yesterday that it was going to be slow. I wasn't listening to the radio this morning (a choice for quiet over noise) when I noticed all the cars ahead were stopped. In my rearview mirror, I saw a line of cop cars trying to get through all the static metal and wheels behind me. I witnessed cars parting the pavement sea so that these vehicles could get through. Soon after, ambulances came, and finally fire trucks. Each time, cars shifted to make way for the emergency and I was impressed and how instinctively people reacted.

When I finally came to the source of the "pause," it was a fender bender that took up two lanes. Stuck in rubbernecking land, I couldn't help but be thankful it wasn't me. We are such insects. All traffic is bug-traffic. We are busy busy busy all the time, and wasps always return to their work know they have more busy things to do. They don't sit still for a mishap or two. In fact, this summer, I sprayed a few wasps who nested outside my back door and I watched them gag (with guilt) outside their hives. Even so, the other wasps carried on. They paced around the dead wasps for a couple of seconds, tapping them with their antennas, but then they hit the accelerator again.

It is nature. Does it make sense? Not really. But motion is survival and highways are our modern arteries. We flow.
Flow we must.

March Madness is on Its Way

Ah, so it's the day after the game. It doesn't matter who won. What matters is the game was played. Last year, I made a deal with myself at the U of L/Syracuse game and then changed my mind about this decision, last minute. I was gambling my life to stay with the winner, but Louisville ended up winning and I left for Syracuse, so I betrayed my logic. So, this year, I'm all about a good game. What else can anyone want?

I continually become amazed at how college sports pace the year, and even though times change, fanaticism doesn't. The rituals are a necessity for life and I can't imagine living without them.

Such traditions make me happy.

When The Snow Falls Beautifully

In anticipation of a "clueless" blog entry, I filmed the light snowfall from over the weekend. It is a peaceful feeling to watch snow fall light and fluffy onto an already field of white. It is pristine and pre-salt, sand and sludge dirty. Walking and driving in this weather is gorgeous and breath-taking. Although winter is a @#R#$! in Syracuse, it can be wonderful, too. I've been told that this season has been tame and I am thankful for that. Even so, when the snow is tolerable, it really is great to experience.

I'VE ALWAYS HATED MY VOICE, BUT I'M HAPPY WITH MY RECORDER

I needed a voice recorder to do my Qualitative research and so I went digital and got one. For a week's worth of gas (thanks, Cynde and Casey), I'm hoping this little gadget will last for life. I've always wanted one, especially for long road trips where I get great ideas for stories and my mind tends to drift in lands of "what if." Now, I have one in my possession and I'm happy for this. We shall see where it takes me.

The photo in the "audio clip" is of me as a Manga cartoon. I found a face distorter on a British website.

I hope all is well with you in cyberspace land.

Son of a Butch and Sue

So, I'm 36, and Vickie Weston sent me a birthday card with a man in a speedo holding a woman above his head. She wrote, "I bet this is the foreplay your parents took on the night you were conceived." It made me think, "hmmm, what did that night look like?"

Sue was mid-snacking on a handful of Bridge Mix and potato chips with True Blue 100 dangling from her lips, when her lover gave her that look. He'd had a few Utica Clubs and as he exhaled his Lucky Strike in tantalizing smoke rings, she caught that glimmer in his eye. Cynde, age two, was running around in a diaper and Sue said, "Butch, how long's this gonna take?"

The two love birds ran, as fast as they could, to the other end of their Westmoreland ranch. They slammed the door in Cynde's face and startled, she ran to her room to cry into her Holly Hobby doll. Approximately two and half minutes later, the door opened and, sweaty, her parents ran to the bathroom. Half of me began swimming ahead of the pack in true-Morris Wayne polywog style and I began eagerly looking for Green eggs or ham. There had to be a Dr. Seuss book in that dark cavern somewhere. It took the tailed wonder a couple of days, but eventually he found the lunar orb he desired and penetrated himself into his origin.

Or something like that. I know that Cynde was created upstairs at my grandparents in my mom's old bedroom one night. It was in Hamilton, New York, and apparently they had eaten their green m & m's on a Thursday. I know this.....why? Because I do. As for the story hour of my conception, I've been spared the details. Ah, but this post is a juicy worm alluring that fish, I'm sure.

Happy Birthday, mom & dad. I owe it all to you.

post Valentine's day happiness

Alton Nichols, 91, married his girlfriend, Betty, 84, after ten years of being a widow. She had never married before and the two of them have found each other in late-life bliss. Now, for those of you repulsed by Harold and Maude's "kiss," I challenge you to think about how beautiful this Mid-York relationship actually is.

Love. Happiness. Metamucil. Depends.


I wish them the best of luck.

Waking Up to My Original Alarm Clock

Elizabeth Russell bought me an alarm clock in 1998. In 2000, it began to work. I'll never forget it, either, because it startled me in the middle of the night. I thought it didn't function when, at 2 a.m., it decided it would. I now use it to pace my sleep and to get me up and at 'em every morning. It is an odd, lil' alarm clock.

And it's funny, too. I've left it in various places I've visited and forgotten to turn it off. I love hearing stories from friends and family that say, "Holy, Crap! Bryan. That blue elmo-thing went off and I had no idea how to get it to shut up." I ask them, "Did you throw it against the wall?"

Yes, I wake up to a silly, screaming stuffed blue thing, and such spastic hollering makes me happy.

Something to Think About

This is an entry on happiness that should be posted, because diverse thinking is a good thing. It is funny, too, that I feel I need to justify the following article -- but I know this world. I submit this post to create conversation amongst others.

Bry

Why Republicans are Happier

February 10, 2008 by philo
The Washington Post reports:

Most studies show that wealthy people are marginally happier than poor ones. People with pets or children are no happier than those without. People with active sex lives are — surprise! — happier than those without. No single morsel of happiness data, though, is more intriguing than this: Republicans are happier than Democrats.

A 2006 Pew Research poll found that 45 percent of Republicans describe themselves as “very happy,” compared with only 30 percent of Democrats (and 29 percent of independents). This is a sizable gap and a remarkably consistent one, too. Republicans have been happier than Democrats every year since the General Social Survey, conducted biannually by the National Opinion Research Center at the University of Chicago, began asking about happiness in 1972.

Why are Republicans happier? The Post considers several hypotheses: (1) Wealth: Maybe Republicans are richer. But the effect is robust even controlling for wealth. (2) Power: Republicans have been winning the Presidency. But Republicans are happier even when Democrats are in the White House. (3) Religion: Republicans are more likely to go to church, and church-going correlates strongly with happiness. So, this explains some, but only some, of the effect. (4) Marriage: Republicans are more likely to be married, and marriage correlates strongly with happiness. Again, this explains some but not all of the difference. (5) Ignorance: Maybe Republicans know less, and ignorance is bliss. I don’t know the data, but, in my experience, among PhDs, Republicans are far happier on average than Democrats. So, I conjecture that the difference will remain after controlling for education.

I’ll propose another explanation: I think it’s likely that happy people are more likely to be Republicans, while unhappy people are more likely to be Democrats, for unhappiness gives one an incentive to seek change, and happiness an incentive to resist it. But the causal link goes in the other direction as well, for Republicans stress freedom and individual responsibility, which lead people to feel in control and take action that changes their lives for the better, while Democrats assign blame to institutions, which makes people feel powerless and discourages them from undertaking ameliorative courses of action.

Perhaps the most intriguing point has little to do with explaining Republicans’ greater happiness but much to do with the pointlessness of Democratic policies from a utilitarian perspective:

Once in power, Democrats tend to focus on issues that, according to the science of happiness, have little effect on our contentment — income equality, for instance, and racial diversity. Neither is linked to greater happiness. Countries with large disparities between rich and poor are no less happy than more egalitarian ones, studies have found. And the happiest countries in the world tend to be homogeneous ones, such as Denmark and Iceland, not the ethnic melting pots that liberals celebrate.

Warm Ears make me Happy

It doesn't matter how ridiculous you look in Central, New York. The key is to keep your ears warm. I noticed this today on the bus from where I park my car and to where I take my classes. The smartest people have the best head gear for standing in the wind. I was jealous of one kid who obviously shops with Nanook of the North for his Fur Hoodie and thick, knitted head cap. He was, by far, the warmest individual battling today's arctic temperatures.

I did alright myself, though. My sisters gave me this hat for Christmas and it did its job. I can't complain and that is what this blog is all about.

Laughter = Happiness

If laughter is the first stop on the road to happiness, I hope these pictures will help you complete your journey.

Before:






After:








I have been enjoying my Gene Simmonsry today.
See, I got out of the shower, saw a large pile of bobby pins, and was inspired to do pincurls. From past experience, no matter how hard I try, I can't ever make my hair do anything, so when Gretchen (sister) and I were uncurling these babies today, we made sure to use lots of hairspray. I haven't tried to do anything with my hair since I've had it short, and I think it shows. Because it definitely stayed. I wish I had a fro all the time.

Because Emily Newton IS the ESSENCE of Happiness

Last night, I was trying to cut a thirty page paper down to fifteen, while reading a feminist history of the prom, when my phone rang. The wind chill is expected to be 17 below zero, and even with my fire blazing, it's chilly.

It was Emily Newton from "clown school" out west. She was a graduate from 2007 and a member of Improv 4 Quarterbacks. Emily needed a HUGE favor because she's assigned the task to sing in front of others and she is terrified. She claims an inability with her voice, but my perspective is that not all songs can capture her personality. Emily sang me a bluegrass-esque song about black lungs, a tune which very easily could be a part of "Oh, Brother Where Art Thou." It was wonderful to hear her voice again, but especially to hear her SING. She asked, "Do you think it could be a sound track for a melodrama?" And I answered, "Your song could be the backdrop to my life's movie."

Emily's college promotes physical comedies, community writing, and colorful performances. Above is a photo Emily sent me last Fall from a festival of spirits where she was an owl.

I am so lucky to have had her call.

Pop Culture!

Remembering when stupid pop culture things are makes me happy. Even if I don't watch them. Just knowing that I remembered that the Grammys are tonight makes me happy. The Grammys are on tonight at 8 on CBS (I think. I can't know EVERYTHING). There's going to be this cool thing with the Foo Fighters. They have this song called The Pretender (I don't think it's that great), but what's awesome is that they had lots of people send in videos on YouTube to audition for playing a new part for the song during the Grammy performance. Most people are on violins. They have 15 people who will be playing. Then another three are competing to be the featured artist. You can vote until 9 tonight I think. It's at www.youtube.com/mygrammymoment. Should be sweet.
Another reason to be happy: I haven't forgotten about this blog! I'm back!

A Brief Glimpse of Utopia

When I worked at the Louisville Nature Center, I took afternoon hikes through the Beargrass Creek State Nature Preserve to stretch my legs . Allowing myself these afternoon opportunities provided a routine and, therefore, slight changes in events would mark themselves into my memory forever. One such event was when a horde of cedar waxwings stopped along Beargrass Creek while migrating north for mating season. There were hundreds of them and each had their unique colors of grey and yellow with and 'maske,' black eyes.

Yesterday, when I came home from the gym, I'm quite sure that there was a cedar waxwing perched on my roof. I'm skeptical, however, because as soon as I got out of my truck to get a better look, he flew away. If it wasn't a cedar waxwing, it doesn't matter. Why? Because it made me remember that day of hiking through Beargrass Creek when waxwings were everywhere. For that moment in time, I was witnessing utopia.

Puppy Dogs Make Me Happy

Two years ago, I became a surrogate father to a baby named BABY. One of my incredible student's, Lacey, needed a temporary home for her dog and knowing what a great dog it was, my home became Baby's temporary dog house. Traveling here and there, anywhere, on many occasions, Lacey would stay at my house with Baby and, in return, I had a sitter for my dog, too. Lacey was a reliable Baby sitter at all times, but finding housing for her didn't work out as planned.  Baby is still visiting me.

Being a dog owner has taught me what a lousy father and husband I'd be. I'm never home, I'm on the go more than I'm at a stop, and I tend not to sit still except for when I'm asleep. At night, Baby and I talk about Lacey and how much Baby is loved in both New York and Kentucky. Ah, but my schedule is crazy in this new life and during the week, I need my parents to watch Baby for me.  It's family doggy-care (which I think they love).

Last night, I picked Baby up and, par for the course, she hasn't left my side. All 115 pounds of her furred-lumpiness is on top of me during my every move: even right now as I type. I feel fortunate to have such a great, loving dog in my world.

Yet, two nights ago my mom called and said, "I want to kill Baby." I asked, "Why?" 

Being a big dog, Baby takes Godzilla dumps and when she has to go, she has to go. Her piles are huge -- Clydesdale. Midnight at mom's, Baby went. Mom, on the couch asleep in pajamas was startled from her snoring by Baby who had to go downstairs -- only Baby had already gone. Mom did the mortal-scolding thing and this makes Baby a sad puppy.  Baby goes outside, but refuses to go in because she feels ashamed and scared. It's raining.   She won't come in. Mom puts on boots and goes outside after her. It takes a half hour. I laugh. Why? Because it's Baby. And Baby is what she is. A Baby. A big, beautiful baby. And I'm glad it wasn't me!

I didn't realize it at the time, but Baby arrived during the exact moments when Juliette Catherine Alanis Madonna Potatohead Scrappy Doo Houdine Olivia Dennis (Juliette, for short) was filling up with fluid and fighting cancerous tumors. Juliet's last month was agony and she hated to move from one area to another. It was too painful. On the day I knew it was time, I drove home as a pitiful mess -- the goodbye was extremely rough. Baby, though, was there for me. Thank God for Baby. She pinned me onto a chair so I couldn't move and acted as she always does, "Pay attention to me! Love Me! Oh, Love Me! Pay attention to me!" I don't know what a life is like without dogs and I'm glad for this.  They truly are man's best friends.

Twiggley Smiles and The First Book to ever make me HAPPY.

I had many rituals when I visited my grandmother's house. One was to read several books she had lying around over and over again. Miss Twiggley's Tree by Dorethea Warren Fox was my favorite. It's about an eccentric woman who lives in a tree house with her dog and bears. She's the town whack-job and a source for their giggles and gossip. That is.....until it rains.

The book was reissued a few years ago and I bought my sisters and favorite libraries copies (this was during a period in my life when I made money and could spend it). Every time I revisit the MISS TWIGGLEY'S TREE I smile. I didn't realize my taste for oddity was something I developed at a very young age. It's a quirky, little book and I'm proud to know it.

Now, if I only could pull my ranch house into a tree and lure "me" some bears. It seems like a great life to me.

This Out of Season Entry Makes Me Happy

Last Fall, post-apple picking, I adapted a blueberry crisp recipe to make a dessert. I actually made three trays and froze two. Basically, I baked apples with cinnamon, nutmeg, and brown sugar. I then covered the apples with a vanilla cake mix, sprinkled it with butter, and baked it some more. It's not an apple dumpling, but it is a fast alternative.

Last night, around 8:30 p.m. when I got home, I ate apple crisp for dinner. I had two spoonfuls left and I nuked them, put them on top of vanilla ice cream and smiled myself into slumber.

It's February and I should be eating sweet tarts, but I needed to finish the Fall cuisine first. I no longer have apple crisp in my freezer and so I lay it to rest until next year. In the mean time, I can smile because, gosh darn it, yummmmmmmm.

Sumac Sunshine for an otherwise gray and brown day.

I've been training myself to find life and energy in the mundane. I began the habit while driving along ubiquitous highways where I tried to imagine what the world would look like if an artist on an acid-trip was given a paintbrush to color it. Ah, it would never happen, so we must look for the natural colors, instead.

I've become acute at spotting Sumac. I use it on holiday swags to add hibernal zest, but I prefer it as it peppers tan shades of branches over white snow. The red becomes hope for the Spring ahead and, like a cardinal bird, it splashes February with newfound optimism of the Crayola Box yet to come..

Thank you, Sumac, for making me happy after Mr. Groundhog reported, "Six More Weeks, You Scumbags!"

Megan Green Sent Me This Happy Link!!!

I'm not the only mortal thinking about happiness in 2008. The TED initiative (Technology, Entertainment, Design) is further along than I am and on their site they have video themes from creative and innovative thinkers sharing their thoughts.

Here, I've linked to their "Happiness" page. By clicking on the "TED" logo above, you will get to several videos where individuals share their notions of happiness. Perhaps there will be a day that I'm that tech-savvy, too.

In the meantime, I'm happy about Megan's suggestion and share it with you.