Happiness Won’t Make You Old

A British study of over seven hundred thousand women showed that happiness does not lead to a longer life.  Ill health can make you unhappy and kill you early, but when that was taken out of the calculations, happy and unhappy women’s life spans were about the same.   

I read that and thought, “Oh, thank god.”  As a cancer survivor and a current heart patient, I’ve got enough “You shouldn’t do that” and “You should do that” concerns without adding, “And be happy, damn it, or you’ll die.”  The fact that I am happy helps, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to feel guilty when I get down because now, on top of being depressed, I’m killing myself.  And now I don’t have to, thanks to the Million Women Study.  That makes me happy.

How were you happy this week?

This is a Good Book Thursday, May 30, 2019

I’ve been reading D. E. Stevenson thanks to all the recommendations here.  She’s one of the gentlest writers I’ve ever come across.  She just puts these interesting people on the page and lets them sort of wander around until they find the end.  Normally, I’d be all “Get focused, woman” on her, but the books are just fine the way they are.  Like pudding.  Lovely.

What did you read this week?

Working Wednesday, May 29, 2019

Welp, there goes May and I still haven’t finished Nita.  I’m beginning to think there may be a problem here.  I have cooked a lot and I finally got the fridge into the kitchen (long story) and the garbage out to the curb and Mona half trimmed (short on top, long underneath, she looks like a llama), so progress is being made, but . . . 

Tell me what you did this week, please.

My Mother Was a Terrible Cook

?????????

I was thinking the other day, “I’d like some Chop Suey like Mom used to make.  Except, you know, good.”  Jo did not shine in the kitchen.  Her recipes are not recipes anybody would greet with delight. Although in my family’s defense, my cousin Russ who used to be the food editor at the LA Times, says one of the paper’s most requested recipes was Grandma Smith’s cranberry sauce, which always boggles my mind because my memories of Grandma Smith are of her eating raw hamburger and missing part of her thumb which had come off in a basement door incident.

Where was I?  Right, food my mama used to make.

Continue reading

Blooming Happiness

I was curled up in bed reading with dogs snoozing next to me and was suddenly struck with the most immense feeling of contentment.  Not joy or glee or passion or excitement, just the sense that where I am right now is exactly where I’m supposed to be, that the whole “bloom where you are planted” bit is backwards and what I’ve been doing my whole life is planting myself in different places, making different connections, trying to find a place to bloom, and then suddenly, after decades of re-potting and transplanting, I’ve taken root here in the quiet middle of nowhere and now there are buds all over the damn place.

What I’m saying is, I’m happy.  No reason.  Just happy.  So I’m wallowing in my contentment.

How did you wallow this week?

Wear the Lilac and Carry Your Towel on the Glorious 25th of May

Today is Wear the Lilac Day and also Towel Day in honor of two of the greatest writers of our time, Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams, who gave us Discworld and the Hitchhiker’s Guide and many other wonderful worlds. It’s a time to remember things worth fighting for (“Reasonably priced love!”) and not to panic. It’s also Cherry Saturday, but that happens every week; the Lilac/Towel Day is special.

Every year when I write this post, my heart clutches a little at what we’ve lost with their deaths, but as Pratchett once wrote, “Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?” Their names are still spoken, their books are still cherished, and today is the day to remember them and read.

I’m going back to Thief of Time.

Also there’s this in six days:

Continue reading

This is a Good Book Thursday, May 23, 2019

I read a new book this week, but it did not enthrall, so I went back to some old stuff, more Michael Gilbert and Wodehouse’s Leave It To Psmith because sometimes you just need farce.  I kept getting visual migraines, which are not headaches but these weird zigzag patterns in my vision, and that made it hard to read, too.  I know: audio books.  But I hate being read to.   Still Psmith was a great comfort to everyone except Baxter, who deserves whatever he gets, including a flower pot to the head.

What did you read this week?