Tag: HDH

Hump Day Happy

 


One time when I was traveling on business, I had a two-hour layover in Philadelphia. It was exciting to be in the birthplace of the U.S., and I wished I could actually explore the city instead of only passing through its airport.

As compensation, I visited an airport gift shop and bought the charm you see hanging off the HDH book to add to my charm necklace: the Liberty Bell. On this day, July 8, in 1835, the Liberty Bell cracked again. I love the bell’s history, and personally, I’ve always found a significant lesson in the fact that something considered “flawed” is one of our country’s most recognizable and beloved symbols.

That’s all I’ll say about that. If you want something to be happy about, please comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and I’ll tell you what the 14,000 Things To Be Happy About book has to offer you.

P.S. I timed this to post at 04:05:06 a.m. on 07.08.09. Thanks, Rob.

Hump Day Happy

In honor of Puterbaugh’s birthday, comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and I’ll not only tell you what the book 14,000 Things To Be Happy About says, but I’ll randomly pick a second happiness item for you.

I personally would be happy if we could just get a little of the rain that seems to be deluging so many of my friends and contacts in the rest of the country and world. But don’t send it all at once, please. It’s hurricane season, and there can be too much of a good thing.

Hump Day Happy

It always surprises me when people who know me in ways other than the Internet are skeptical about the time I spend online or the relationships I’ve formed here. Let’s assess this… Without the Internet, there would be no Timothy James Beck novels, or the relationships with the editors who bought THE DEAL and THREE FORTUNES, not to mention my two Coventry books. I met my writing partners on the Internet, and theirs are three of the most vital friendships in my life. I wouldn’t know Steve C or Ron–or know that Ron is my cousin a few times removed. I wouldn’t know Rhonda or Lindsey or Sugar. Tim wouldn’t be living in Houston, he’d have no Rex, the dogs he’s fostered wouldn’t have received his unique care before going to loving forever homes. He wouldn’t know The Big H!

Y’all wouldn’t be reading this. I wouldn’t know you or interact with people from all across the U.S. and the world. The many writers who have inspired me and become my friends and acquaintances would be just names on book covers. There would be no FOOL FOR LOVE with all its funny/sad/quirky/amazing stories.

For me, it’s a no-brainer. The Internet, with all its hazards (we all read about the scams and disappointments weekly–and I’ve had a few unpleasant experiences, too), provides a powerful means of connection.

So when I was up late working and housekeeping on Saturday night and into the pre-dawn hours of Sunday morning, it was fun to follow, with thousands of people across the globe, the Tweets from Heather and Jon Armstrong (dooce.com and blurbomat.com) while she was in labor with their second daughter. I don’t know them, I just read their blogs and have for years, which makes them part of my daily life in that unique Internet way.

During the months of her pregnancy, Dooce provided a monthly shot of her expanding tummy. One of the last ones, a self-mocking portrayal of her very pregnant self with a beer tucked into her waistband, a cigarette hanging from her lips, a bag of powdered doughnuts ready to be stuffed into her overly made-up face under badly teased hair, became her most recent masthead. It was her response to the small percentage of people from among her million readers who criticize her life and mothering choices, and it still cracks me up whenever I go to her site.

It awed me that when she posted a photo of her newborn on Twitter, it received sixteen THOUSAND views in no time flat. Then I was dumbfounded by how many people didn’t understand that the first “name” the two proud parents provided–Lil Donette–was a joke based on her pregnancy photo. With the Internet, you take the crazy with the good.

Welcome to the world Marlo Iris Armstrong, and thank you for making June 14 a reason to be happy.

If you, my LJ readers who I’m always grateful to connect with, would like some sweet happiness of your own, please comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and I’ll consult the happiness book for you.

 

 

Hump Day Happy

Those of you who aren’t cavorting on a beach right now, feel free to comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and Flipper here will dive into THE DEEP to find you something to be happy about.

 

 

Bet you’re tired of me taking up your monitor real estate, aren’t you?

Hump Day Happy

Those of you who’ve been reading here for any length of time know about the plastic lime slice coasters that Tom and I received as a wedding gift and passed back and forth with Lynne for years–then Lynne’s daughter-in-law Laura got thrown into the mix. (I don’t mean we passed Laura back and forth. I mean sometimes, Laura got the coasters, too.) Eventually I upped the shock value by adding such items as lime slice candles, glasses, and melon and lemon slice coasters–and it was on. Lynne and Laura have been gifting me in kind for about five years now.

Last Christmas, Lynne stunned delighted me with a set of fruit slice dishes. Actually, they were kind of cool, though I didn’t want to admit it. I just don’t have room for more dishes. My dilemma was solved when I realized that Marika loved the dishes. With Lynne’s okay, I regifted them, taking them to Marika when Tim and I went to New Orleans.

I got the BEST thank-you card from Marika. I’ve included it on the upper left of the picture below. It’s all lime-slicey and glittery. I love the chick on the card, and I actually plan to frame this and hang it in my office. There’s a margarita recipe inside the card, and that’s how I chose the name for my most recent addition to The Compound Mattel Top Models, who’s pictured wearing a new dress I made just for her. She’s the Summer doll with the green streaks in her hair. I’m calling her Rita for the margarita card, as well as for Rita Hayworth, who I think was one of the most gorgeous actresses to ever pass through Hollywood–and if that’s not enough, Rita is a character in a Beatles song.

If you comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, lovely Rita will find something in this book for you to be happy about.

 

 

Hump Day Happy

I usually pass parade beads to my great-nieces and -nephews, but not this throw. This one came from Greg last year when I made my February trip to New Orleans.

I’m using it here because even though I’m deliriously happy to be back at The Compound with my dogs and husband and Houston friends nearby, I’m still in that Crescent City state of mind, thinking of everything that happened at Saints and Sinners and how good my writer friends and long-distance friends are for my soul.

I’ll be sharing photos and stories in a lot of posts over the next couple of weeks as memories bubble to the surface. One of the VERY BEST parts of the long weekend was how I could see how vastly improved my mood and health were from last year. I laughed more, walked more, participated more, and relaxed more. I just felt lighter. Happier.

If you’re looking for something to be happy about, comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and these Krewe of Muses shoes are made for walking through the pages of this book to get your answer.

Greg, if you ever again think I’m snubbing you, just remember that I brought your paperclip sculpture you gave me all the way home from New Orleans and shot a photo of it because it looks like a heart. I will be always grateful for the many kindnesses you’ve shown me, both professionally and personally. This event you and Paul have created, Saints and Sinners, has brought some amazing people into my life, given me more confidence as a writer, and provided the opportunity to meet in person other writers and friends I’d have otherwise known and admired only from a distance. You say the festival is your chance to get all your creative friends together and how happy that makes you. But we’re happy that YOU make it possible for all of us to converge. What a gift to writers, friends, and colleagues. You and Paul, and all the people who help you, including the one pictured below, should be SO PROUD of your work, your passion, and your amazing host city. Thank you.

 


Evil Mark, who’s not even remotely evil and whose enthusiasm and energy never flags as he does all his Saints and Sinners magic, including keeping us on schedule. Thank you, Mark! 

Hump Day Happy

You got fins to the left, fins to the right, and you’re the only bait in town…

I have NO idea why I can’t get this Jimmy Buffett song out of my head, so I just decided to run with it. For one, I think sharks are cool. Also deadly, which is why I never swim in anything that doesn’t have a blue cement bottom. Yes, that means no oceans as well as gulfs, lakes, rivers, and ponds. Is there a rule that says Becky Must Be Rational? Didn’t think so.

I was never a Parrothead, though Lynne was a HUGE Jimmy Buffett fan, and I dated a guy who was, as well. I’ve never blamed Jimmy for the guy. And thanks to the guy, I did go to a Jimmy Buffett concert one time in Tuscaloosa (Roll Tide), and IT WAS GREAT! Kick-back, sing-along, smile-at-everybody-around-you, smoke-’em-if-you-got-’em, feel-good-about-it-all great.

A person could do worse than emulating Jimmy Buffett, and not just because he pulls in a cool hundred million a year with all his business ventures and music and writing careers. He does a lot of good in the world with grants and fundraising. Check out the SFC section of Jimmy Buffett on his official website.

Then dig your toes into the sand, put on your sun screen, and comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, so these sharks can find you something to be happy about.

 

 

Hump Day Happy

 


Ayuh, it’s a moose, all right. Because a moose reminds me of Maine.
Today, Maine has struck a blow for equal rights and made me a happy person. 

If you want to be happy but can’t move to Maine right now, just comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and Mr. Moose will find you something from this book to be happy about.

Hump Day Happy

Sometimes I forget what I’ve posted about on here before, but it’s not like you all remember every word, right? RIGHT? (Other than you, Mark G. Harris.)

I don’t have many favorite memories of ninth grade Home Ec, but one of them involves Lynne’s mother, Elnora. I was finishing my sew-something-at-home project, and my mother agreed to let me spend the night with Lynne for the only time ever on a school night so Elnora could teach me buttonholes. Now I know my mother, who sewed all the time, certainly knew how to do buttonholes. Either she was tired of me and my fabric (Why did I choose brown?), or Elnora’s machine had a buttonhole function and Mother’s didn’t. In any case, Elnora taught me how to stitch buttonholes by hand, and I remember finishing up late at night when everyone was asleep, my eyes blurry and my fingers stinging from numerous needle sticks.

I thought about that incident last Friday when I was sewing–badly–deep into the night and getting frustrated. More than anything in the world, I wanted to call Lynne, wake her out of a sound sleep, and shriek, “I CAN’T MAKE THIS YOKE WORK!” She’d have deserved it, too, because of that time she threw The World According to Garp at my sleeping body in the middle of the night, but that’s a different story.

When Timothy, Mark, and I were sewing for Runway Monday, we made our own patterns. In my infinite quest to frustrate myself, I bid on and won some Barbie fashion patterns on eBay. Here, my model Faizah is wearing the result of my Friday night dementia. It doesn’t look exactly like the dress on the front of the pattern, but at least I overcame my Aries nature and FINISHED it. That makes me somewhat happy. Comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and Faizah will find YOU something in this book to be happy about.

It’d better not involve sewing.