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.

Happiness comes from carrying on traditions

Several years ago, a student brought me an Altoid’s tin. She was enthusiastic, overjoyed and thrilled with her red, white and silver container, because inside, she told me, lived her special Russian friend. It was a tiny penguin, ordered online from the USSR, and it was sent to her with more packaging than a little penguin desires. The bird was fingernail size and held the tender loving care of a Soviet artist who meticulously crafted such a talisman. Such artistry makes me happy.

As a boy, I used to love the tiny figurines my grandmother collected in Hamilton, New York. Born in the Ukraine, my grams had an eccentric quality that included decorating mouse holes with drapery, sculpting roses out of laxative gum (post chewing) and designing butterflies out of the wine spilled on her shirts. My Grannie Annie also had drawers full of small, leprechaun-like pip-squeaks from all over the world. At Christmas, grandma would cut a holiday branch (heaven forbid she kill an entire tree) and decorate it with glass ornaments, tinsel and popcorn. Underneath the bifurcated wood, she’d place her figurines: skunks, reindeer, fox, rats, elephants, kittens, unicorns, squirrels, etc -- all positioned in a circular equation of celebrated life. All her friends were the length of an eyelash and made of glass and plastic.

Three years ago, in a novelty shop in Elsinore, Denmark (Helsingor), I stumbled upon a tray of similar glass midgets and my heart leaped out of my chest. Remembering the penguin of my student and the glass zoo of my childhood, I made my first purchase of a few microcosmic glass gnomes: a rooster, a frog, a turtle and a swan. I also purchased a simple gift -- a smile.

Since then, I’ve added additional dwarves here and there. Of course, given that this is Bill Gates’s generation in cyberspace, I’ve also learned that I can purchase an entire army of glass buddies at the click of a computer mouse. On line, for $600, I can have almost every type of lilliputian icon ever designed by Russian artists. There have been days where I’ve really had to restrain the temptation of swooping them all at once (the entire midget universe could belong to me). Yet, I have fallen in love with the adventure of stumbling upon such pocket-sized mites, and with each one comes a story.

When I moved to NY, I was most happy when I realized this stupid collection traveled undamaged. There is a walrus I found at the Kentucky State Fair with Abe Hawkins. There exists the minikin elf I found in St. Augustine, Florida -- the oldest city in America. There is also this one, bizarre creature I call the “mouse sperm” which has the head of a rodent and the tale of a pollywog. Regardless, all of my nubbin half-pints have become the micro-cosmos of my imagination and I believe in the power each one represents to my heart and soul.

There was a day in Kentucky, a couple of years ago, when my sisters visited and found my secret stash of glass creatures. They noted the collection looked much like Grandma’s and we mourned, together, that none of us acquired her little friends at the estate sale when she died. It’s odd, perhaps, but the moment my niece and nephew saw the display of glass animal oompa loompas, I knew there was hope for this world. I will always believe in the hope their eyes showed: the karma, the spirit, the youthfulness and the magic. There’s a galaxy of truth in such expressions.

Such silliness equates

Coffee, Newspaper & the Happiness of Sunday Morning

One morning a week, for sixty minutes of the day, I wake up knowing I will SLOWLY drink coffee and read the Sunday paper. There's nothing better than gliding into a day this way. Instead of popping out of bed, into a shower and out the door in a fifteen minute rush, I can "chill" with sipping serenity.

It's Sunday morning -- Super Bowl Sunday -- and I'm drinking coffee and getting ready to read the paper.

It doesn't get better than this?

Today's Featured Video

Cool improv makes me happy. There's this group called Improv Everywhere. They have a regiment of agents in New York (I am now one) who go and doing improv... everywhere. Their video, featured on YouTube today is really cool. At the exact same second, over 200 people froze in Grand Central Station. Hilarity ensues.

Should ice storms make us happy?

When I arrived to work yesterday at 8 a.m., I thought something was odd. The weather was pretty iffy and traffic was driving very slow. There also was a lack of school buses on the road. Of course, when I arrived to work (I am out of coffee and I knew the office wasn't), I found out everything was closed down (except for SU -- we were interviewing).

The day went on and off again with rain, freezing rain and snow. It was rather nasty driving in the slush of things, but the trees were absolutely beautiful. Everything is covered in ice and the way night lights hit every branch almost made me slide off the road in awe. I was mesmerized by the lighting and not the lane I should have stayed in.

Ice can be rather awful, actually, and shoveling the driveway last night was heavy, if not impossible. The mixture of snow, sleet, ice and rain made for ridiculous lifting. Even so, it is beautiful in the trees -- sort of an arboreal popsicle land.

Happiness is in such moment.

Happiness is a pair of Red Sox!

Today I put on a pair of red sox. When it comes to men's fashion and accessories, there's not much a guy can say that says, "Hey, I can be professional, but I have a quirky side, too. That's why I love my red sox. Aaron Ray loaned them to me last year and I never returned them because they are simply great.

There was that loud mouth, talk show guy from the 80s who always wore his red sox. He pre-dated the talk show bonanza and although I forget his name and I believe he was suffering from long cancer in his later years, I always remembered his foot stockings. You want to make millions? Design a line of men's socks that allow a character to be a character. Ties are outward, but socks are inward and on days I need to be a little more professional than others, I find happiness in my cherry tomato, yarn feet hidden beneath a pair of long pants and dress shoes.