On being happy.

I woke up early this morning; the little birdies were trying out for the choir it seems. Our bedroom is torn up. We are painting, meaning I am avoiding the fumes and Greg is breaking his back. I can't wait to finish it up today - it's going to be beautiful.

I woke up chipper, with no pain. I laid in bed and thought about the week. I kicked the ball around with Zack and one of his buddies at soccer practice. I swung a tennis racket around with the kids. We caught the latest Spider-man movie - and Zack stayed awake. Lexi had a sleepover. I had lunch with good friends. I hosted a spa party. I went to a reading, saw Chuck Palahniuk. My life is sweet.

I woke up thankful.

I woke up happy.

(I woke up sappy. Don't puke on your shoes.)

I've had a couple of friends ask how it is that I am still a happy person, at least most of the time. I can't help but think 'what is the alternative'? Life is short. It is true for me and it is true for everyone. Time's a wastin'.

I plan on having me some fun while it lasts, to make it count.

I don't feel like that when I hurt from head to toe, but I push forward until I do again.

It may be denial, but it's how I cope.

Sure beats crying in my soup.

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