I had a teeny, tiny temper tantrum last night, not directed at S. but at a certain situation in my life that has me terribly frustrated. It is the kind of situation that leaves me not knowing the right thing to do, and I have to admit last night some of the actions I took to address this situation definitely were NOT right, which included bringing other people into the fray and turning what was otherwise a lovely evening into a rather dramatic one. This happens sometimes – sometimes emotions take over reason and good sense, and I have to admit that while I recognize my behavior wasn’t ideal I do feel tremendously better today, as though I can let go of this situation and let it just be the way it is. The people this problem involves know how I feel, now – and while nobody is going to change, because people just don’t, quite frankly, I feel I can move forward and give it up to God. So today, and this weekend, and as much as possible in life, in general, I want to concentrate on what is good. The illustrious bloglily wrote a beautiful post a few days ago called “A Day So Happy” – in her post she write:
Back in the olden days, when this blog was new, I would, without any hesitation, write an entire blog post about why this morning at 10:43 a.m. (which is the time as I write this) I found myself so incredibly happy. But something happened, maybe a year or so ago, and I began to be afraid of my blog, afraid that what I was writing was ridiculous, or not worth anyone’s time, and who was I to give nothing of value to the people who come over here other than a few words about my own personal happiness?
I’m so over that this morning.
I think over the course of the years, if one blogs for that long, the process can sometimes lose a little bit of its spontonaeity – suddenly people are reading the blog, commenting. Quoting your blog back to you. Wondering why you haven’t posted in awhile. I want to follow bloglily’s lead…to get back to some of the spontaneous happy. A few months ago a meme called What I Love made its way around the internet and while I cannot remember the blogs I first read it on (and feel free to speak up here if it might have been yours!) it seems like a great morning for one long, run-on sentence about things I love today, July 24, at seven o’clock in the morning:
I love the kind of sleep I’ve been getting lately, which is incredibly heavy and luxurious and dream-filled and encourages me to sleep past my alarm because it is just so good, and I love the cool, rainy summer evenings that have allowed for this kind of sleep and have also encouraged my garden to explode in a riot of blossoming flowers and vegetables; I love that our first attempt at gardening has been so successful, and I love that this evening S. and I will enjoy grilled eggplant and sliced tomatoes along side our lamb chops (lamb! I love lamb!) that came directly from the work we poured into our garden, and I still find myself quite bemused that our little urban garden actually worked because it sort of feels like magic; I love downward dog and sun salutations in yoga class; I love the farmer’s market in July, which stretches on forever in banks of blueberries, rasberries, cauliflower, broccoli, greens, potatoes, young onions and so much more; I love our neighborhood, which awakes to the sound of the bells from Immaculate Conception, harkening the die-hards to early morning mass and falls asleep to the faraway revelry of the restaurants and bars on Liberty Avenue; I love the smell of my dog after he has been playing outside, which will always remind me of the dogs of my childhood and feel of cold fur and puppy paws after a long day in the woods; I love also the way my dog sleeps, as though he has never been more exhausted in his dog life, as though a day made up of chasing squirrels and playing with the dog next door and chewing his bone is more than anyone should have to do in a day; I love the sound of Tom Petty on the radio first thing in the morning; I love the way the morning light slants through the kitchen windows first thing in the morning, making my kitchen the coziest and happiest place in the world to spend the waking hours; I love Friday nights, which mean cocktails in the backyard and S. manning the grill and then a movie or two, and, for that matter, I love Blockbuster online, which has provided me with a few obscure French movies I am eager to see; I love the fact that S.’s family is planning a big Christmas in New Orleans instead of the traditional holiday, and I love that S. and I are going to stay after the rest of the family leaves and finally see Cajun country; and of course I love S., for his honor and his passion and his refusal to accept mediocrity from himself, from me, from those around him and for a thousand other reasons that deserve a poem in the tradition of Tennyson; I love that I am making new girlfriends with whom I can eat pizza and watch terrible movies with and I love all of my old girlfriends, with whom I now can talk or email or text in slangy shorthand that is understandable only because of our history; I love reading on long summer evenings; and finally, because the time is quickly closing in where I have to make my oatmeal and hop in the shower, I love lemon verbena soap from Whole Foods and, since right now it is mere anticipation and not a mistake that needs to be fixed, I love the color “Polished Pearl,” which we will use to begin painting the master bedroom this weekend, although you should stay tuned for that one because we have no idea what we are doing. And I love not knowing, in terms of home improvement, what we are doing, because at the very least we have caused the employees at Home Depot to have some huge belly laughs and, after all, if we screw up, who cares?
I love that, in the world of home improvement projects, there are a thousand different names for the color ivory.