If You're Happy and You Know It...Shake Your Head in Puzzlement

Today I am inexplicably happy. I don't get it at all. For starters, last night I did nothing but sit on the couch and neglect the myriad household chores that needed attention. I worked on a few word puzzles and watched a couple hours of television. That's it. That kind of evening usually depresses me. Secondly, I ate so poorly today——consuming hundreds and hundreds of calories, and several plates full of miniature cookies——that I now feel bloated and sluggish, not to mention a bit guilty and ashamed. Again, this type of behavior normally plunges me into a deep, dark funk. But today? I just seem to be buoyed by feelings of contentment and mild joy, and nothing will bring me down. Weird!

I can only guess this la-dee-da-dee-da feeling is related to one or more of the following:

1. Ndugu is on yet another round of meds which seem to be working, for now. This means that the stress of waking up in the morning to foul-smelling poo stains hidden in hard-to-reach places has, for now, been eliminated.
2. My workload in the office this week has been juuuuuust right, with a dash of——gasp!——variety thrown in for added satisfaction.
3. I have, after a month-long hiatus, restarted my little Pilates and yoga home workouts.
4. Our tax refund has spruced up the appearance of our checking account a bit.
5. S and I finally bought a new couch (to arrive in a few weeks).
6. It's finally getting sunny and warm-ish outside, and the winds that have been blowing us around the past couple of weeks seem to have died down, finally.
7. Hormones?

So, while none of these things is particularly momentous or thrilling, perhaps the
combination of them is enough to perk me up and make me cheery.

Who knows?

I Still Like Lots of Things About This Country, Even Though Our President Is Crap

So, first off, I apologize for not yet responding to Brother M's comment about my Terry Schiavo post. In the frenzy of preparing for my trip to Ireland, my poor little Waxing Prosaic blog was neglected. And now that so much has happened between my last post and now, I've got other things I'd like to write about. For now, though, I'd just like to say that I hope Terry Sciavo's family is able to find some peace now that the political circus that had made her their headlining act has left town (for the time being, anyway). And, my personal lesson learned: Put down in writing what my wishes are for my own medical treatment should I ever suffer brain trauma that severe.

OK then! Let's transition awkwardly from personal tragedy exploited for political gain to M's return to the good old U.S. of A. two Tuesdays ago! S and I had a marvelous time in Ireland and thoroughly enjoyed all the food, sight-seeing, exploring, and time spent with my parents. I returned home so filled up on puréed vegetable soup, brown bread, Cadbury chocolate, and salmon that I'm near to bursting, and my newly ill-fitting pants are the proof. Sigh. I'm just so resentful of the positive correlation between overeating and gaining weight.

As for the sight-seeing, the highlights for S and I were the Cliffs of Moher on the west coast, Giant's Causeway on the northeastern coast, Donegal Town, and the town of Westport. We also found the day we spent in Derry (site of The Troubles and Bloody Sunday) in Northern Ireland educational and quite worth the visit. Exploring Westport, Donegal Town, and Galway with S was lots of fun, especially considering our good luck with the weather. Sunshine! Blue sky! Mild temperatures!

Spending time in Ireland and learning about its history (rocky) and status quo (economically booming) was refreshing and stimulating, but coming back home to the States was nice, too. Some bits of my American life that I missed while on the Emerald Isle included public-toilet-seat protectors, robust plumbing, racial diversity (my mom on Day 7 of our trip: "I think I've only seen, like, three black people total since we've arrived here!"), Starbucks...and unfashionable people. Like most Europeans, I suppose, the Irish are so stylishly dressed, it intimidates me. No one, anywhere, looks frumpy. It made me self-concious to be trekking around in what I thought were cool Adidas trail-running shoes when everyone around me had on sleek, narrow, minimalist urban casual shoes that weren't quite trainers but weren't quite something you'd wear to work. (One of my first orders of business upon returning home was to pick up a couple of pairs of sleek, narrow, minimalist urban casual shoes myself: I've now got a cute pair of Pumas in ecru suede and a pair of Adidas made of Asian-style embroidered satin. Hooray!) In Ireland, everyone's jeans were darker, crisper, and better tailored, and I saw no one---I mean, no one---in anything oversized.

Getting back to the U.S. was bittersweet, because while our vacation was over (boooo!), the California sunshine was strong and brilliant, and everything in Los Angeles was in bloom. I've been marvelling at the green trees and richly colored flowers ever since. I even bought some potted tulips for our front stoop. I'm trying hard not to kill them.

About three days after returning from Ireland, I hiked with some coworkers in a poppy preserve in the Antelope Valley (two hours north of L.A.). The scenery was so breath-takingly beautiful, it almost seemed fake, like a Hollywood creation. Rolling hills were covered in wildflowers: Goldfield, clover, and California poppies. Snow-capped mountains served as a backdrop. It rivalled even the most gorgeous scenery I saw in Ireland, and it made me proud that, while this country is definitely going through a rough patch on political, governmental, and socioeconomic levels, it's still got plenty of stunning natural beauty to admire.