Tag: random

Y’all ready for some happy?

It’s Wednesday again. Sooooo…

Give me a page number from 1 to 612 and an item number between 1 and 30 (if your number is too high, I’ll just keep counting to the next page), and I will give you something to be happy about from this book of joy and joyness:

If you haven’t been happy about what you’ve gotten so far, you’ve got 13,999 (or 13,998, depending upon the number of times you’ve played) chances to get a more pleasing result. Also, I’m proud to say that some of you have used your answers for blogging ideas. And for all I know, some sly writer is even now penning a tale about couriers, short-sleeved camp shirts, and/or Copenhagen.

P.S. Gatorade Frost Riptide Rush is definitely something I’m happy about.

Time to get your Hump Day Happy on

Good grief, it’s Wednesday again. So here’s the drill. Give me a page number from 1 to 612 and an item number between 1 and 30 (if your number is too high, I’ll just keep counting to the next page), and I will give you something to be happy about from this book:

Let me thank you all for your concern after my post about the loss of my friend Riley. I’m okay. And sometimes I’m not. But in honor of Things to Be Happy About, here are some things that make me smile when I think of Riley:

The night he got clotheslined (literally) while running from my house, a story that made me laugh hysterically whenever he told it for the next [number redacted] years.

The rock he found on the ground and gave me because it’s shaped like a heart.

Forcing him to sing “Rocky Raccoon”–AGAIN.

His Bob Dylan story.

The way he pronounced certain words, for example, “leak” (I gotta take a link.).

The time I hid in his closet.

I’ve got way more than 14,000 I’ll bet, and I’m grateful for them all.

Hump Day Happy

I’m sorry that I’m such a dull LJer lately. It will get better, I promise. Meanwhile, I figured why not add a new feature to Photo Friday and Button Sunday. I’ve decided to call it Hump Day Happy in honor of Wednesday, and you get to play along. Here’s how.

Years ago, when I was an assistant manager at a bookstore, I picked up this little item:

I recently rediscovered it when shifting books around. It’s 612 pages long, and every page has a list of 15-30 items to be happy about. If you want something to be happy about, in my comments, give me a page number between 1 and 612, and an item number between 1 and 30. I’ll locate that particular “thing” to be happy about and tell you. It may be silly. It may be something you’ve never thought of. It may give you an idea for a story or a post or a blog entry. Or it may just make you giddy with happiness on a Wednesday. If not–what the hell is wrong with you, do you just LOVE MISERY?

Comment if you please.

Bonus Button

Thank you, Lindsey, for delivering Jewish penicillin to me in the form of matzoh ball soup and noodle kugel. I felt great for most of the afternoon, though I’m sort of icky again. Maybe tomorrow all will be better on the first day of the new year.

For everyone else, celebrate in whatever style makes you happiest (Tom, for example, began snoring in his recliner at 9 p.m., with the dogs sacked out on the couch). And remember:

Thank you. Happy new year to you all.

For Anglophiles (like me)

I was just reading about the launch of an officially sanctioned YouTube site for Queen Elizabeth II. Her first televised Christmas address was in 1957, and it, along with other video footage, is available at this site. More historic footage will be added over time, and her 2007 Christmas address will be located there as well. According to the article, this is one speech which she has traditionally never allowed anyone else to write for her.

I enjoy it when these glimpses of history become more accessible.

My romance…

Here’s today’s quick holiday gift to you from the person inside me who can write about a place called Coventry (she hasn’t been around much lately).

I was dashing through a marked lack of snow (as well as someone with my back can dash), trying to do too many things at once. I walked out of Walgreen’s and forced myself to sit still in the car and drink something and breathe. A small pickup truck pulled in next to me. The weather has turned warm, so its windows were down. Two men–probably around age seventy-five–sat bickering with each other about whether that was the best place to park/why the driver shouldn’t even have a license anymore/why the passenger was a general pain in the ass with his bad hip, etc. Finally, the passenger got out and went inside Walgreen’s. I noted that even as a senior, he looked sporty and cute in his Levis, Henley shirt, and down vest.

Then I watched the driver. His truck was still running, and he hesitantly backed up a few inches, then looked around, backed up a few inches more. Clearly he knew he wasn’t the driver he probably was at forty, and I smiled at his caution and thought of Lynne telling me I’m a granny driver. (I am; I know.)

I wondered if he was trying to make a getaway from his sparring partner. But no. He pulled out and up to the curb and was in the perfect spot so that when Down Vest came out of Walgreen’s, he could grin and hop right in the truck, then lean over and give the driver a kiss on the cheek before they took off.

THAT, to me, is romance: someone you still want to bicker with when you’re seventy-five, and who’ll pull the truck up to save your tired body a few steps.