No, This Isn’t a New Post

It’s snowing again. It snowed again yesterday, too. It’s going to snow this weekend. It’s going to snow a lot more at the beginning of next week. I have ordered Cadbury chocolate from England (because England has not screwed up Cadbury the way the US has because, as SNL pointed out, the only thing that still works fine in America is Tom Brady) and Tate’s walnut chocolate chip cookies from Amazon even though they’re a dollar cheaper in my local grocery, which I would have to dig out my car and drive through the snow to get so, hey, an extra buck is fine with me (sorry about that Amazon driver, but since you just leave the boxes on the hood of my car, never mind, I’m not sorry AT ALL), and a heated pad for Emily to sleep on since she will NOT leave the sun porch although she does deign to accept head scratches now along with pricey cat food and a full water dish, and also from Amazon both thick and thin Chop Suey noodles, not for Emily but for me because it’s comfort food time . . .

Where was I?

It’s snowing again. I have a draft post on New Thoughts on Writing Sex Scenes which I might get up tonight but probably not because I will have spent the afternoon shoveling white stuff which is still coming down, albeit not as enthusiastically. In fact, you could call this latest snowfall “lackluster snow.” It’s going to keep going, but it’s not going to be sprightly about it. It’s snow shrugging its shoulders as it falls. Whatever, it’s thinking. Who cares? Even snow is tired of snowing.

I don’t mean to complain (yes, I do, I do mean to complain) but I’ve had enough winter. It’s beautiful and peaceful and I’m sure there are other positive aspects to it, but whatever they are, they’re buried under the latest eight-to-ten inches (man, there are a lot of Game of Thrones “Eight inches of Snow is a good thing” memes), so, nope, not seeing the upside.

Feel free to talk about whatever you want in the comments since this isn’t a real post. Actually, you can always feel free to talk about whatever you want in the comments on any post because we’re not Topic Nazis here. That’s the royal We; it’s just me, really, covered in snow, on the lookout for any personal attack comments which have happened twice in the past sixteen years here, so it’s not like I have to be alert, which is good because I’m covered in snow . . .

It’s still snowing.

+8

Random 2020

So here we are in the last three days of the year that was so bad it killed 300,000 (and still counting) people in America alone. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to happen three days from now aside from a huge psychological sigh of relief. It’s January 20 I’m really aiming for, when the Secret Service dumps Donald Trump outside the gates of the White House and let’s the real world have at him. Fake news, my ass, here comes the Southern District of New York, Donald, and they have some questions.

So what have I learned this year? Continue reading

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Milton Smith: 2006 -2020

Milton died yesterday after a short but terrible illness.

Milton was joy made flesh, an inspiration for me every day. A master escape artist, he was known to the neighborhood as Houdini, digging through the fence frequently to spread happiness wherever he went. He escaped one day and I found him licking my next door neighbor’s face and making him laugh while he was under his car trying to fix something. He escaped another time and I found him in the arms of another neighbor’s plumber, also getting his face washed, who said, “Aw, I knew he had to belong to somebody,” before he reluctantly gave him back to me. Visitors to my house would often leave with “Thank you for a wonderful time, and I’ll be taking Milton with me.” Life was Milton’s oyster to open and every day was an adventure. A scourge to cats, squirrels, chipmunks, birds, and bears, he was also a master burrower and cuddler who made me laugh every day.

He is survived by his sisters, Veronica and Mona, and his godmother, Krissie Ohlrogge, who was the worst of his attempted dognappers. And me, although I don’t know how I’m going to make it without him.

Milton Smith: The Best Dog Ever.

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Competence Happy

I just read a recipe on the Bon Appetit website and realized I had all the ingredients to make it, not just the onions and beef which I would always have had but the three inches of ginger root, the sesame oil, and the fresh lemon, not to mention the bok choy he suggested as a side dish. It made me think, “Huh. Maybe I’m a cook.” Mostly it made me feel competent. Which made me happy.

And that’s when I realized how rarely I feel competent. Continue reading

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Cherry Saturday, December 28, 2019

It’s Write A Business Plan Month, and since I’m in the business of living, I think I’m gonna go for a Business of Living Plan. This should not be mistaken for a list of New Year Resolutions because I’m against those. This is more of a “Things I Intend To Do To Make Living More Excellent in 2020.” They are not ways to improve myself. Screw that. They are Fabulous Living Plans. Entirely different thing. For example, I can have as many French fries as I want on this Fabulous Living Plan because it does not involve restricting my food intake in any way. I may have to do that as another part of my life, but it does not go on this list.

I’m still working on my list, but it’s definitely going to include: Continue reading

Cherry Saturday, October 26, 2019

Today is Hug A Sheep Day.

I’m a big fan of sheep because of yarn but also because they’re fuzzy and huggable and my rescue pup Mona looks like a little lamb. I hug Mona a lot. She was the runt of the litter and was born without kneecaps in her back legs which means she can’t jump, but she can run like the wind, or at least a very small rabbit, and she’s happiest dog I’ve ever owned and I adore her, so today for me it’s Hug A Mona Day.

Feel free to define “sheep” as most befits your life and hug something close to you.

+1

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?

+1

Food, A Rediscovery

I’m toying with the idea of making Fridays “Foodie Fridays” or something less twee, but the last thing I need is to get locked into another Every Damn Week Post (although I will admit that most of the ones we’ve got now just involve finding a picture and saying, “Hey, what did you read/work on this week?” so not labor intensive. Even Cherry Saturdays require minimal research. Happiness Sundays are a bitch, though). And yet I feel an intense need to talk about food, and I’ve seen leanings that way in the comments, too. The problem is, right now food is a problem for me. Or a solution that I haven’t quite arrived at yet. Which pretty much sums up my life.

Where was I?

Continue reading

The Myths of Happiness

Last May, Psychology Today published an essay by Susanna Newsonen discussing why chasing happiness was a bad idea. Newsonen describes herself as a Happyologist, aka a happiness coach, which would send me running in the opposite direction except that she went on to talk about the three myths of happiness. They are:

  1. Happiness is the absence of negative emotions.
  2. Success fuels happiness.
  3. Happiness fuels success.

Okay, two and three are obvious non-starters, but I found the first one interesting because it seems to just make sense. Negative emotions make us unhappy, therefore getting rid of negative emotions would lead to . . .

Oh, wait

Continue reading