Things to be happy about

I have a little book called 14,000 Things to be Happy About. Every once in awhile it’s fun to thumb through it and mentally add my own items to the list, increasing my heart’s measure of gratitude. Here are some random thoughts on happiness:

The Sunday before last, Randy, Alyssa and I got “lost” for three hours at the annual library book sale. Since it was the last day of the sale, a whole Trader Joe’s grocery sack of books/videos/CD’s was only $6.00! After Alyssa filled her bag, she spent the rest of the time helping random strangers find books they were looking for, making unsolicited suggestions, and helping to straighten up the shelves. She was in her element. On the way home she declared, “I love books!” I replied, “You mean you enjoy reading?” Her answer: “No, I just being surrounded by books. I love owning books. Books make me happy!” Well, she certainly comes by that predisposition honestly! We emptied out our bags of “goodies” on the dining room and kitchen tables when we got home, covering both surfaces. So many hours of pleasure to look forward to for a mere $18.00!

Rusty makes me happy (except when he is annoying the heck out of me by absconding with my art tools or jewelry, or knocking things off my work table to get my attention). He loves his colorful collection of plastic balls that jingle when they roll. The slits in each ball are spaced just right for him to be able to pick them up in his teeth and carry them around. Like a dog, he’ll carry one in his mouth and deposit it at my feet so I’ll throw it for him. He has a whole repertoire of games he plays with these balls. He likes to dribble them around the legs of the chess table in the family room. In Iowa he used to carry one to the top of the stairs so he could drop it and chase it down. Now he’s discovered that they’re even more fun in the back yard. He bats them all over the patio – around and under the patio furniture. Then he carries them over and drops them in the decorative grasses so they are partially hidden and then tries to flick them in the air with his extended claws. When he gets bored with that game, he carefully dribbles one over to the edge of the pool and gently putts it in, just so he can hang precariously over the edge and fish it out with his paw. If he carries a wet ball in the house, I know he’s been fishing in the pool again. (Of course, some float beyond his reach and end up in the pool filter. Thus, he watches the periodic check of the filter with great interest, as he has learned that it often contains a multitude of colorful jingle balls.) Watching the simple pleasures that bring him joy makes my heart happy.