identify 100 things that make me happy (besides money)

96. Giving more cheers than I’ve received.
97. Having more subscriptions than subscribers.
98. Reading an entry that summarizes what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling perfectly.
99. Sharing in people’s progress.
100. Through reading others’ posts, figuring out what it is I want to do.

91. My 80ish great-uncle bought himself a Harley. Blue. And then decided (after falling off of it) to buy a sidecar and put sandbags in it to help him balance.

92. My grandfather thinks my great-uncle is crazy for buying a Harley when he could have bought a horse.

93. My mother’s cousin wants me to have their grandmother’s rings when she’s gone, so they’ll stay in the family. She has a son, so I guess she feels they should go to a girl. Or maybe she feels I’m the most likely to breed?

94. Said cousin’s mother is bright, lively, and more talkative than ever, even though she, too, is 80+. Mom couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

95. Mom’s already plotting to move back when she and/or Dad retire…so at least 6 years from now. Who says you can’t go home?

87. The baby birdies in the nest above my porch light. (Though I must admit the pile of bird poo beneath it doesn’t make me happy…the sight of all those fuzzy little heads peeking out at me always makes me smile.)

88. Realizing there is light at the end of the tunnel after feeling hopeless. (Vague, I know…but if I started to list examples, I’d ramble for days.)

89. Unexpected acts of kindness and consideration. Never before have I had a man think to make the bed. It’s really quite cool. :D

90. Quiet Sunday mornings.

84. People who leave their Christmas lights up way past Christmas and still turn them on. Yeah, I prefer to limit the decorations to the holiday season so as to not wear out the specialness…but if you’re not going to take them down, flaunt it! You add light and cheer to our otherwise end-of-winter drabness.

85. Finding the toilet seat up. Granted, if it were on a daily basis, I’d probably fuss – but as an occasional discovery, it’s kind of cool. Evidence that a man has been here.

86. Smelling him on my clothes.

83. Anticipation.

82. The lady who lives in the building next to mine. I’ve only spoken to her once, in passing, but every time I see her she smiles and waves like I’m an old friend.

81. Stephen King. I’m not including him in the “books that keep me up all night,” because to do so would be to do him a great injustice. What he writes aren’t just page-turners. I can’t think of another author who can suck me into a story and hold me there until I feel like reality is the fiction. With very few exceptions, I finish his books feeling not drunk but feverish, and very close to tears. Which is why I always object when someone calls him “just” a horror writer (or worse). What he writes isn’t always pretty (for those of you who have read Lisey’s Story, you’ll understand when I say that my boob has been hurting for a couple of days now), but it’s always true.

After his accident, when he talked about not writing anymore, I didn’t believe it. He needs to write like he needs to breathe…that much has always been clear. What I was afraid of was that he would no longer share the stories with us. I’m glad he chose to, and I hope he never changes his mind about that.

77. My parents.
78. Cooking with other people…anything from a batch of cookies to an elaborate meal.
79. Seeing the look on people’s faces when they open presents from me.
80. Christmas in general.

76. Surprise presents. (Thanks, Jim!)

75. The sweatshirt I have on. 2XL gray Russell sweatshirt I bought at camp enough years ago that it’s nearly old enough to buy alcohol. It says Little Tommy in navy letters on the back—family inside joke. It has two little purple dots on it, from me wearing it while painting…something with t-shirt paint, but otherwise it’s immaculate. This shirt has gone with me through six moves, two decades…it’s one of the last remnants of my childhood. I am comforted every time I put it on. It’s as close to home as I have, really.