After an evening that started with friends at Tico's and ended in a church balcony with those same friends, where we were entertained and moved by the words and images of Joel Sartore, it's no wonder I woke feeling happily full.
But I would be remiss to give all the credit to chile rellanos and old friends (yes, Susan, some of you are older than me!).
Like the dandelions that have suddenly fallen deeply and prolifically in love with my yard, my week has been sprinkled with vivid reminders that joy sprouts in surprising places and times.
Bottom line? I am surrounded by so many good folks--family and friends alike--that it's surprising I haven't developed some form of gratitude-induced asthma. And I'm pretty sure that this happy state of mind isn't mine exclusively. I just needed to be reminded to look up and out a bit, that's all.
My wakeup calls--some written in actual ink on real paper!--came as love notes sent from dear childhood neighbors Jim and Jeanne, from library pal Paula, from cousins Paige and Jill. Collectively, their notes acted like a bracing slap of Hai Karate!, bringing the lighter version of my self to the surface again. From there, I began noticing and recalling all kinds of happy people and things that surround and fill me. Let me generate an annotated, albeit incomplete, biography of folks who fill me, these days especially:
•Eric and Allison Holt--by far my best contributions to this world--two people who aren't so full of themselves that they can't be silly at times and who regularly (and quietly) bust their buns to get things done;
•The old Young Life gang who still has "silly skit" mode coursing through their veins, thank God;
•Scrabble friends Kristie and Jill, who keep showing up, in every sense of the word (even though that is more than one word);
•The Andrea bunch, who laugh and love their time together and keep inviting me to join them, despite my spotty attendance;
•Brenda and Helen--the better half of the East library--who laugh and listen and love their way through the days;
•My lunch pals, who endure my stupid stories and make me laugh;
•Spartan Nation. You'd be hard-pressed to find a better bunch of people;
•My neighbors, who love this place and these people as much as I do;
•My siblings, who are rock stars in my mind--digging down and getting it done, with creativity, unity and love;
•My students, old and new, who are funny and talented and who, most days, give me great hope for the future;
•My "hiking" pals, Molly and Shannon and their canine companions, who keep inviting me on outdoor adventures, even after they watched me set up a tent last summer;
•My mom, who is adorable and fragile and funny and surprising;
•My larger library family, who have proved to be the kind of mid-life friends and colleagues I am lucky to have found;
•Finn and Hobbes and Rasta and Zack and--yes--even Ginger, the persnickety poodle, who have been steady companions through thick and thin, loving me in times of joy and gaseous outbursts;
•My Master Naturalist pals, who share my deep love of the outdoors and know a heck of a lot more about it than I do, but don't wag that fact over me;
•My childhood friends, who--amazingly--are still in my life, despite the zip codes that separate us.
•My church friends, who make God and life more awesome than I ever could have imagined;
•New friends--what a thing to make a new friend at 54!--many of whom I've "met" on Facebook;
•Mark Dale Holt, who is the supreme partner in my life, immensely supportive of anything I want or need to do, including buying too many stupid socks.
Like I said, some mornings I wake up kind of swollen. . . .
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