Happiness. It's relative.

I don’t have a mission. I basically just careen around doing things I think are useful or will make me feel productive. This excludes hard and unpleasant things like gardening and cleaning but includes things like this blog, going to the same dog park every single day, and swinging a gavel over my head in the hopes of doing something good for old people.
In the absence of a long discourse about my mission, I offer these five observations about my day:
If you live in a northern state, it’s good to have a truck no matter how much people think you’re overdoing it because you live in a city.
If you are old, you need to have a pair of Yaktrax to attach to your boots, so you don’t go flying on the ice and break your hip and end up in a nursing home looking out the window at everyone having fun in the snow.
If you are a writer or want to be one and you’re not in a writing group, you are full of it because it’s only by reading your writing to other people who are taking notes that you get your writing shit together.
If you volunteer for something where there are other women who are volunteers, there will be a little implicit contest about who is the most experienced volunteer but that is a sweet thing if you think about it.
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands, and quit pretending that you’d be happy if only something huge and perfect happened because, my dear, the huge and perfect thing is actually small and beautiful.
I would guess that about 90% of the time I am clapping my hands!
Great!
Why just other “women”?
Because they’re the people I volunteer with 🙂
I am happy. I keep being surprised that I am, but I am. And aside from miscellaneous medical issues, at peace too.