Sunshine and Seventy

Light through recycled glass soap dishes

Happiness is a precious commodity.  In my life I've found that it usually comes in short, concentrated blasts and is often tempered by periods of struggle, sadness, and exasperation.  Lately I've been experimenting with happiness, choosing to focus on those momentary blips of joy, beauty, and contentment during the drudgery of everyday life. When I first started this experiment, I found that the hardest part was being satisfied with a multitude of small moments, rather than a huge chunk of time.  But if we wait for life to slow down, for troubles to stop coming, for heartache to cease, we'll be waiting forever and missing all those little gems that make life wonderful and worth living. I've discovered that finding happiness is like anything- the more often you look, the more abundant it becomes. 

Yesterday was both a typical work day and a singularly gorgeous day in Dallas.  My twenty-five minute commute inexplicably took forty-five minutes, even though I took the same route to work and left at my usual time.  As I walked to my building across campus from the parking garage, I was almost run over by a snotty undergrad in a fancy red Porsche who actually accelerated when I stepped off the curb. I promptly spilled my iced coffee all over my chest.  After getting settled in my windowless cave of an office, I realized that I had grabbed the jeans from the dirty clothes pile by accident that morning.  With no make-up and crazy hippy hair that was still wet underneath, I was feeling really attractive and ready for the day.  I felt myself slipping into grumpiness, snarling at unsuspecting students who dared come by my office for help.  From this moment the day could have easily turned into one that I would soon forget, mentally filing it under the categories of "Typical Hump Day" and the "Ruination of Perfectly Good Shirts through Spilled Food Products Day."  But who wants the days of their life to be checked off and dismissed as mediocre? Not me.  

Dream Ride- Restored 1962 Vespa in Grey Blue

Leaving for an early lunch with my husband and his lovely co-worker, I spent the ten minute walk to my car clearing my mind of negativity.  The sky was a clear cornflower blue, the hundred-year-old live oaks lining the campus smelled warm and earthy, and the gentle sunshine caressed my face and dried the last strands of my hair.  We ate lunch in a busy seafood grill, where Gene Chandler's voice crooned the Duke of Earl over the airwaves and we all indulged in our own separate desserts.  I returned to work happy; healed by good company, laughter, divine bread pudding, and beautiful weather.  In the late afternoon a good friend stopped by to visit and talk paint colors for her new office.  Ever thoughtful, she brought ice tea and some lovely lemony biscuits (amazing Trader Joe's delights!) for us to share while we perused the colors of the rainbow in the paint sample booklet.  We sat outside near a fountain, surrounded by art students sketching in charcoal, relishing in the gorgeous weather and narrowing down the perfect color choice.  By the time the 5 o'clock quitting whistle sounded, I practically skipped to my car, even though I knew I had a long drive ahead to my in-laws' house where I would be pet sitting for the next few nights.  I drove with the windows down, absorbing every second of the sunshine and seventy degrees, knowing that in Texas the weather can change on a dime.  My husband, C, and I had dinner at one of our favorite places, sitting outside on the patio festooned with white twinkle lights, sharing a bottle of Greek wine and a plate of lamb kabobs.  Back at the house, we fed the dogs, laughing hysterically as C had to bribe an ancient special needs Corgi to take his medication with multiple slices of American cheese.  Later on, while C watched My Cousin Vinnie for the umpteenth time, I loaded my newest batch of photos from my recent trip to California to my laptop.    Surrounded by snoring dogs, a relaxed husband, and the photos I had taken in the eclectic boutiques of my favorite seaside town (like these two images), I felt so incredibly blessed to be alive. Closing my eyes, I retraced the hundreds of happy moments of the day as my mind wandered towards dreamland, grateful for each and every one.  Now all I need is that Vespa and I'll be set.