Are You Happy?

"If I seem so happy to you, you could never say anything that would please me so much. For men are made for happiness, and anyone who is completely happy has a right to say to himself, 'I am doing God's will on earth.'" Father Zossima in The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
The Elder Zossima says this when a woman tells him he seems happy and it struck home with me. Could his statement be true?
I do know the older I get and the more I see, the less I take being happy for granted. Another quote I really like about being happy is the opening line in Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy - "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."
(Just hit me that both of these are Russian authors and yet the Russian authors are never thought of for their happiness. Could it be that happiness is more thought of where it's not as plentiful?)
Is that true about the happy and unhappy families? I kind of think it is and maybe that makes happiness appear simple or uncomplicated. Maybe that is why it's so underrated as a goal for a life or a family.
What if our goal was to be happy and then we looked and listened to those folks around us who are truly happy? Would you know where to even look? And after a look would we say, "Aw, that's too easy. Too simple."
Ever seen that sign that says something like, "If you're happy, you obviously don't understand the situation." How incredibly enlightened and clever.
How incredibly sad.

Book Bucket List

Many years ago I read in one of Maya Angelou's autobiographical books about how she fell in love with Fydor Dostoevsky's "The Brother's Karamazov." Well, that bothered me because I knew Ms. Angelou's background. She was raised in the segregated south, went to a poor, falling down school for only black kids in Stamps, Arkansas. She worked hard every day leaving little time for learning and then ran away and was working with prostitutes when she discovered Dostoevsky and fell in love with his books.
What?
How could she, of such limited learning and resources, not only understand, but LOVE a book I couldn't begin to even want to read. What was there in that book I wasn't willing to take the time to discover? What was there that reached out beyond all the barriers between 1880's Russia and th USA in the 1960's? And even if I took the time to read it - would I get it? And if I don't get it - what then is all my privileged education worth?
So, now, decades later, I finally have picked up The Brother's Karamazov. Believe me, I picked it up with trepidation, but I started reading it this morning. And it's very understandable, filled with drama and story and wisdom - all the things I like. Whew! I may not get all the nuances and layers - but I can read a good story!
So, I'm working on my Book Bucket List with a renewed passion.
What books are on your Book Bucket List? What have you always wanted to read, or thought you should've read?

Toilet Paper Beliefs

I firmly believe toilet paper rolls should be placed on the holder so the paper is lying on the front of the roll for ease and convenience.
Mike, just as firmly, believes it should hang down at the back for ease and convenience.
Shocking to realize we made it to our 26th anniversary, isn't it?
At first, we explained to each other the infallible attributes of our firmly held, supported-by-our-families, long-practiced, only-reasonable-possibility, belief on the correct execution of this household necessity.
Then (unbelievably without government aid) we came to a compromise. Whoever put the new roll on got to decide how it went and it stayed that way until it was empty.
I had a woman friend tell me once this sharing of being right, was wrong. She said, "I just change it to be the way it's supposed to be."
However, for twenty-six years this compromise has reminded each of us -several times a day - that just because I think something is right, doesn't mean it is the ONLY way for it to be right.
It's a simplistic act of will to bend to another's wish. However, the fact that after two and half decades we each still cling to our preference, says we know and understand we are different and will likely have differences all our lives.
Plus - in our desire to have things our own way, the toilet paper holder is rarely left empty!

So Darned Happy

New tennis shoes are walking up my street--slowly. They are headed to the bus stop. Yep, first day of school. All over facebook parents are putting up their thoughts on how the morning is going. Reports of tears from the first time moms are surprisingly light. Well, surprising to them.
One mom wondered if the lack of tears was from exhaustion. Or maybe because she'd done it before with her older child. Or maybe because her little one was just "so darned happy".
I pick door number three. It's kind of hard to be sad when they insist on being "so darned happy". Robert graduated from grad school in May, but I remember the day we moved him into his dorm like it was yesterday. After all the moving and hauling and arranging, me and Mike and the younger two were pulling away from Robert's new home. His dorm was having an ice cream social in the front courtyard and as we backed out of the parking space he plunged into the midst of other new students - excitement and anticipation pulsating off him. And my tears just dried right up. He was just "so darned happy".
My best memory of Ryan's wedding day was his grin. Ryan is a happy person anyway - he's always smiling. But on his wedding day his grin was ridiculous - the whole day. How could I feel anything but overwhelming joy?
And shopping with Lizzy yesterday for her apartment. Apartment - not dorm room. Her apartment with a real kitchen and a real living room. Her new home. How do I claim any regret or sadness when she's becoming a wonderful woman? I try, but then she asks me to teach her to cook or buy some silverware. And there's that "so darned happy" grin.
My parents gave me the most wonderful gift of never getting in the way of my times being "so darned happy". They never made it about them and so I never gave their feelings a second thought. Just wallowed in the fact that they obviously were just "so darned happy" for me - besides what could they possibly be sad about???
Now I know the truth - a child's "so darned happy" is them pulling at the strings that tie them to us and us opening our hands and letting that string go.

(Whine alert) It's So Hooooot

Our house in Illinois didn't have air conditioning. It was an 100 year old farmhouse on a couple acres. Not having air conditioning forced a bending to nature that appealed to me. Sometimes.
We opened windows at night and then closed them mid-morning to keep the cool air in. I did chores early in the morning, because by noon the house would be getting pretty warm. The afternoons were spent sitting in front of a fan or out in the yard under a shade tree. The oven stayed off.
We didn't combat high temperatures. We conceded to them and adapted.
Now, I don't want to try and adapt to Georgia summers. I LOVE my air conditioning. However, sometimes I get so used to controlling my environment, that I miss out. The heat pushes me indoors. In the car, I never consider turning off the air and rolling down the windows. Lights inside make outside look so very dark and going out into the darkness never enters my mind.
Summer can be a time of loosing control. The heat, the bugs - especially the loudness of the bugs at night, profusion of green, intensity of smells, abundance from gardens, glare of the sun, shedding of clothes. And yet I forget to let summer tug on my strings of control. No, I don't just forget - I actively resist that tugging.
So many things must get done today. There's all those dvr'd shows backing up to watch. It's so much more comfortable inside. My computer is lonely.
I want some of that adapting back in my summer. Now, to figure out how to do it---
without turning off my air conditioner.

Loved this Book!

Just finished a book which is now one of my favorites. It's about a painting. A painting I love and even have hanging in my dining room. Well, of course what I have is a print. A print in a plastic frame all of which I found for less than $10 at an antique store. And, no it wasn't a great find - it looks like is should've cost less than $10. But I love the picture. Now, I love it even more.
The painting and the book have the same title: Luncheon of the Boating Party. Pierre-Auguste Renoir did the painting. Susan Vreeland wrote the book. The book was written in 2007. The picture painted in 1881. I always meant to read the book, but I never read things when they come out because I don't want to get on the waiting list at the library. However, I'm going to a new book group tomorrow and this is the book they were reading. I can't wait to discuss it. Seriously, I am going to have to hold myself back and try to not be obnoxious (it is my first time there, you know.)
The book follows Renoir through the entire process of planning, setting, and completing his painting through eight Sunday's of luncheons on the terrace of Maison Fournaise. The models were his friends and benefactors and the book is about each of their stories. The Impressionist movement and it's turmoil plays a part in the book and since one of the women in the painting becomes Renoir's wife - there is romance.
But best for me is it expresses Renoir's philosophy of painting: "To my mind, a picture should be pleasant, cheerful, and pretty, yes pretty! There are too many unpleasant things in life as it is without creating still more of them."
That's how I feel about writing. I have friends who write very dark things and I have some who write very light things. I want to write beauty and happiness-realistically.
Guess I know now why Mr. Renoir's picture appealed to me so many years ago. Maybe I'll go buy a nicer frame.

Early to Rise . . .

With Mike out of town, I’ve been getting to sleep in.
For 26 years, whether I was working full-time, part-time or staying at home, Mike and I have gotten up together. I make his lunch and coffee while he shaves and dresses. Then we have coffee for a few minutes together. Sometimes nothing is said and we just sit and wake up.

It's what my Mama and Daddy always did and since they have the happiest marriage I've ever seen, why wouldn't we do it?
I remember Mama talking one time about a friend complaining that her husband went to bed too early. Mama told her friend, "If you'd get up as early as Ken does, you'd go to bed as early as he does."
When the kids were little, getting up with Mike meant I had a little bit of solitude after he left and before they got up. I know that made me a better mother. It also meant during those crazy years of baseball, basketball, and soccer that we had a few moments everyday when it was just the two of us.
Now that the kids are gone and Mike and I have lots of time together there are a couple reasons to still get up when he does. First, Mike says quite often that those early morning minutes are his favorite time of the day. Second, that whole getting up at the same time leads to going to bed at the same time.
Need I say anymore?