Happiness is such a lovely gift we choose to give ourselves each day.
This morning I was dragging my feet just a bit as I suited up to walk Eli. It was really cold outside and I don’t very much like cold anything. But Eli has that amazing canine sixth sense about him and he knew it was time to go out. His wagging tail creates its own current and I wonder sometimes if the movement is sustainable. And if so, for how long? This is a really happy dog so that tail wags a whole lot of the time.
But back to my cold weather gear. I layered. And then layered some more. I grabbed my monster mittens and added them as my final salute to the cold and walked out the front door.
Before too many minutes had passed I was feeling extremely energized as I breathed in the crisp morning air filled with scents of the last leaves falling and cold asphalt contracting like me from the cold.
And then I looked down at my hand holding the leash and I smiled outright and then laughed.
I love mittens! I love MY mittens! I love that they’re purple and fleece and warm! I love that when I look at my bemittened hands I am actually a Muppet! (Anyone else as jazzed as me about the new Muppet movie?! Tina Fey, people. Tina Fey.) And as soon as I’m transformed into a Muppet I wiggle my thumbs and remember one of my favorite lines from the stage production of Steel Magnolias, delivered by Clairee to Ousier with just the right amount of Southern charm: “Whitey Black is a moron. I’m not even sure he has opposable thumbs.” And the next thing I know I’m laughing and saying out loud to no one in particular, “You know, the funny thing about shaking hands is. . . you need hands!”
I crack myself up.
Okay. Okay. I’ll end today’s happiness flow chart before I quote the entire script from The Emporer’s New Groove. But just one more from Yzma before I go:
Ah, how shall I do it? Oh, I know. I’ll turn him into a flea, a harmless, little flea, and then I’ll put that flea in a box, and then I’ll put that box inside of another box, and then I’ll mail that box to myself, and when it arrives. . . I’ll smash it with a hammer! It’s brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, I tell you! Genius, I say! Or, to save on postage, I’ll just poison him with this.