100 nouns for the 100th post

All the stuff I said that I wouldn't drone on about, I will list here without the droning. These are people, places, things, and ideas that I like. We'll cover verbs at the 200th post.

These are in no particular order:

1. Jocelyn - despite the "no particular order" sentiment above, I know who boils the oatmeal around here

2. 1984 by George Orwell (I like the Van Halen album, too, but it isn't going on the list)

3. Nocturnes by Frederic Chopin

4. Views of the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia - even the two looking south from I-64 are good

5. The Child in Time by Ian McEwan

6. Chocolate bars with toffee such as Score or Heath

7. Evil Dead 2 - a campy horror movie from Sam Raimi (he's the guy who brings you the Spider-Man movies)

8. Sweet is the Night - a song by the Electric Light Orchestra from the album Out of the Blue

9. Lavender Mist: Number 1, 1950 by Jackson Pollock

10. State Quarters

11. Cashews

12. The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever by Stephen R. Donaldson

13. Arrested Development - a short-lived comedy on FOX

14. Double Stuf Oreos

15. My kids

16. Winning - a song by Santana from Zebop!

17. Beers from Dogfish Head Brewery

18. Glory (the Edward Zwick movie starring Matthew Broderick and Denzel Washington)

19. Y: The Last Man by Brian K. Vaughan (a Vertigo comic, the final issue, #60, to this entertaining story comes out in January)

20. Bertrand Russell - not that I always agree with his opinions, but I find his books enjoyable and thought provoking

21. Used bookstores

22. The Stand by Stephen King (the magnum opus of his early days)

23. Moonlighting - an old TV show from the 80s starring Cybill Shepherd and a non-bald Bruce Willis

24. A Case of the Stubborns - short story by Robert Bloch, horror-humor perfection

25. Lyndon B. Johnson National Historical Park - especially the little shuttle bus tour of the ranch; relaxing, informative, poignant; when we there, Lady Bird was home, too (she died this past summer)

26. Rollercoasters - they scare me, but I always feel great after riding them

27. Graceland by Paul Simon, the whole album, never gets old

28. The Lord of the Rings - the trilogy of films, that is, by Peter Jackson...geek alert, it'll get worse as we go down the list

29. Bored of the Rings by the writers of the National Lampoon; classic satire of the original Tolkien books...you will laugh out loud at the journey of Frito, Spam, Moxie and Pepsi

30. The X-Files - we watched it all from the beginning

31. Isaac Asimov was my favorite writer as a kid...I learned a lot of things from reading his fiction and non-fiction

32. Pete Rose - yes, he had (has) serious gambling problems and a not so wonderful personality (though he seems like nothing more than an outspoken confident midwesterner to me) but he represented how you are supposed to play and love the game of baseball; it is a travesty that he will not be in the Hall of Fame until long after he is dead

33. Mt. Rainier National Park - this is one thing that I really miss about living in Seattle: the ability to drive down to the mountain and take a walk in the woods and meadows

34. Convertible roadsters - I had an MGB in Hawaii and Jocelyn had a Triumph TR-6 in Seattle; after kids we gave them up; I'm thinking of getting one back, maybe a Saturn Skye?

35. Thunderstorms

36. Fried chicken, especially Popeye's spicy

37. Prayer of St. Gregory - a short work for trumpet and strings by Alan Hohvaness

38. Chex Mix

39. Beers from Brooklyn Brewery

40. William Steig - writer and illustrator of children's books, including Shrek and, one of my favorites, The Real Thief

41. Mark Rothko - see my post on the Rothko Chapel

42. USS Arizona Memorial

43. A Parliament of Whores by P.J. O'Rourke, humorous look at politics in America

44. Lucifer, a Vertigo comic written by Mike Carey; the story of the fallen angel who owns a piano bar in Los Angeles; he would like to be left alone, but he is forced to take on the Heavenly host, among others (3 issue mini-series, a special issue "Nirvana", and a 75 issue run)

45. Styx - my favorite rock band as a kid; saw them last summer, adequate, but I missed Dennis DeYoung

46. Irish Wolfhound - this is the breed of dog I've always wanted to own but we have an English Setter

47. Candles, lit, but not so many that it looks like a chick flick or a slasher movie

48. Agnosticism: I don't care to argue about this, just know that I have the same problem with atheists as I do with theists; there are more important things to argue

49. Flannel sheets in winter

50. Pixar Animation Studios - they haven't missed yet, not even with Cars

51. Bailero by Joseph Canteloube from his Chants d'Auvergne

52. The right tool for the right job

53. Spaghetti with either a butter sauce or mizithra cheese (or both)

54. The Wizard of Oz - book and movie

55. Kennedy Space Center

56. Ambient music, you know, New Age

57. Casino Royale, (2006) the best Bond movie ever...so far

58. Pears, see POTUS

59. Beers from Rogue Ales

60. Modern Pentathlon, an Olympic sport

61. Lost, and it never has frustrated me, I trust Lindelof and Cuse

62. The Onion, America's Finest News Source

63. The National Gallery of Art, the whole thing, including this

64. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, a family tradition since 1989

65. The Story of US, 10 volumes by Joy Hakim; she is also writing a six volume history of science

66. Lactase tablets, see this for the reason

67. My extended family, including my siblings, parents, and in-laws and their children

68. The kid's recitals

69. The kid's sports competitions

70. Cincinnati Reds - especially the Big Red Machine of the 70s

71. Cincinnati Bengals: given these last two, I am a master at being content with not winning

72. Baseball/Softball - playing, not watching

73. Darts, especially if no one is taking it too seriously

74. The old Montana speed limits: "reasonable and prudent" during the day

75. A. Whitney Brown, a humorist who isn't getting much love these days, but I like him; one of my favorite lines (adapted for the current world): There's six billion people in this world, so if you're a one-in-a-million type person, that means there are six thousand others exactly like you

76. Heated seats

77. Indoor plumbing, that works properly

78. Hot showers, with the right shower head, of course

79. Yellowstone National Park

80. Merit Badges, I'm fascinated with them; and Life Badges will pick up soon

81. Backyard volleyball

82. Soft-serve ice cream (with #66)

83. Babies, infants just make me happy, they cannot behave badly or be spoiled, and they're easy to return to their parents

84. Isn't It Time by The Babys from Broken Heart (the baby thing is coincidental, I swear)

85. Sports commentary that is intelligent and honest: Chris Collinsworth and Jason Whitlock immediately spring to mind; I don't think it's happened with political commentary, maybe Charles Krauthammer

86. Rushmore, the movie and the soundtrack

87. Chips Ahoy! like #14, I like them with a big glass of water (not milk, see #66)

88. All of Star Trek, except for Deep Space 9 and Voyager

89. The first Star Wars trilogy, except for any scene featuring an Ewok

90. The film music of Ennio Morricone, especially The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, and Once Upon a Time in the West

91. The Carol Burnett Show, I miss watching that on Saturday nights

92. Dennis Brain, I have nearly everything that he recorded in his short life, he played horn and someone had the common sense to roll tape a few times when he performed

93. Cincinnati-style chili - cheese coneys or a three-way preferred

94. Kauai has always been my favorite island

95. Pomegranates - fruit you have to work to obtain

96. Unabridged dictionary - one of my favorite books

97. Stadium seating at movie theaters - no more hats or big hair getting in the way

98. Roy Steele - my grandfather (and my grandmothers, too,) but Roy had a big influence on my life, he trusted me with responsibilities when I was very young...I didn't let him down while he was alive

99. A comfortable bed with an acceptable pillow

100. Happiness, suggested by Gabe, approved by me

Not exhaustive by any means, but a pretty nice start...we'll look at it again after another hundred posts.

Two to the tape...a light week

We have two tunes to add to the mixtape this week.

Nikki Blonsky (as Tracy Turnblad): Good Morning, Baltimore

Michael Torke: Bright Blue Music, performed by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra conducted by David Zinman

The link for Bright Blue Music will open a pop-up from Amazon. I chose this because it contains a full minute of the nine minute work. The sample also contains one of my favorite moments, where the orchestra builds momentum with snippets of strings, brass, and woodwinds to an emotional crescendo. My little laptop speakers do not do it justice. This is meant to be played loudly. For me, this music is as sure of a pick-me-up as a shot of caffeine and the effect is more immediate.

Aimee left a comment with a couple of song recommendations. I'll tack those on to tomorrow's post after a thorough evaluation. I'm wondering where all of these 70s songs are coming from with her. She was a little kid in those days.

I should add that Aimee is my younger sister (by a considerable margin.) We have an older sister, Sandra, but I have never called her anything but Sis. (Aimee used to refer to me as "Brother" if I recall correctly.) But sibling stuff is for another post.

Good Morning, Baltimore and Hello World!

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This weekend I will be friendly

Wow, after last weekend's monumental failure at being tactful, will I improve this weekend when it comes to friendliness?

I'm not very shy, so being outgoing will not be too difficult. I'll need to be genuinely interested in other people.

I'll smile.

I'll say "Hi" to people. I'll wave from the car.

I'll ask people about themselves and I will listen.

This should be far easier for me than tact. However, I'll need to be tactful as I try to be friendly.

Friendliness seems like a slam dunk, no-brainer. Until someone doesn't return the friendly demeanor or they look at you like you're nuts. Keep the expectations low. Don't have any expectations for a reciprocal smile or wave. Don't assume that people will talk to you.

If they do, great. Even if they don't respond, they might benefit from a friendly face.

I'll try. I'll let you know on Monday, how it went.

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Adapting Shakespeare for work

The Bard is in the public domain, so we can freely use his powerful words and imagery for our own personal and professional needs without a farthing in royalties.

In the video, you'll see a strong performance of the St. Crispin's Day speech from Henry V as performed by Kenneth Branagh, playing the young King Henry.

If you aren't familiar with the story, the English are in France fighting to unite the kingdoms (because the current line of English kings are Norman in descent, not Anglo-Saxon.) The English are heavily outnumbered and are about to meet the French in open battle. The Duke of Westmoreland laments at the beginning that they could use some more men from England with them. Henry picks up on that and gives this rousing speech.

Inspiring.

At work, we are under a few very...aggressive...deadlines that push the boundaries of reality. Often I hear words to the same effect as Westmoreland's: oh, if we just had some more people.

What follows is my ever so slight changes to Shakespeare in an attempt to rally the despairing. I left St. Crispin's Day in there, but any significant date will work instead. I could have even used "this November 9th" and "when November 9th comes near..." You understand what I mean.

A Team Lead: O if we now had here
just a few more programmers and analysts from the Widget division
that do no work to-day!

The Boss: Who would wish for that? My finest Team Lead?
No, my good employee;
if we are mark'd for failure, we are enough
to do our company loss; and if to succeed,
the fewer people, the greater share of glory.
For God’s sake! Do shut it, and wish not for more people.

By Jove, I am not covetous for bonus money,
nor care I who benefits from our work;
I don’t care if my team has “project” golf shirts;
such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honor,
I am the most offending soul alive.

No, faith, my lead, wish not a person from Widgets.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honor
as one person more methinks would share from me
for the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, my Team Lead, through my whole team,
that any which hath no stomach to this effort,
let them depart; their termination shall be made,
and a decent severance put into their final check;
we would not toil in that person's company
that fears their fellowship to fail with us.

Our delivery date is call'd the feast of Crispian.
Any that remain to this day, when we deliver,
will stand a little straighter when this day is nam'd,
and rouse themselves at the name of Crispian.
All that shall make it to this day, and see old age,
will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
and say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will they pull their files and show their records,
and say 'These tasks I completed before Crispian's day.'

Old employees forget; yet all shall be forgot,
but they'll remember, with advantages,
what feats they did before that day.
Then shall our names,
familiar in his mouth as household words-
the Project Manager, QA and Production Control,
Training and Documentation, Design and Development-
be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.

This story shall the future PMs teach their teams;
and Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
from this day to the ending of the world,
but we in it shall be remembered-
we few, we happy few, we band of siblings;
for any to-day that continues with me
shall be my sibling; be they socially awkward,
delivery day shall normalize their condition;
and people throughout the company now-a-desk
shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
and hold their employment cheap whiles any speaks
that strove to deliver upon Saint Crispin's day.

(No one cheered. But they did look at me funny.)

An H-N True Story: The Snorkeling Incident

Back in the 1980s, I was in the US Air Force. I was lucky enough to spend nearly all of my service time at Hickam Air Force Base in Hawaii. After I left the service in 1986, I stayed there. I moved in 1991, but that's a Jocelyn-based story that we'll save for another time.

For now, we need to go back to 1983. A group of friends and I got up early one Saturday morning and drove to Hanauma Bay (pictured below) to do some early morning snorkeling. We hit the beach around 7 a.m. after stopping for a little McDonald's breakfast in Hawaii Kai and picking up some 110 film (remember that?) for our underwater cameras. We also purchased a few bags of frozen peas, Green Giant, I remember. The fish love this stuff. The day, as you shall see, is still pretty vivid for me.

Have I mentioned that at the time, I couldn't swim? I didn't? Well, even though I'm not a good swimmer now, I can at least propel myself through water. In those days, I didn't even try.

So, what was I doing going snorkeling? It's this wonderful thing called peer pressure. When you are male and young and away from parents, it is something that you give in to. And, no, I wouldn't jump off a bridge if they told me to do it. However, if we all were going to jump, well, that's different. I probably would.

As I was saying, we arrived at 7 a.m. and we had the parking lot and the beach to ourselves, for an hour or two anyway. We set up in the middle of the beach.

Masks, snorkels, flippers. Wade out into the water. Float on the belly and kick. If you go under, don't breathe through the snorkel until you rise out of the water and blow out. Remember to blow out. You're snorkel will be full of water until you do.

After fixing a minor mask leak, and accidentally forgetting the blow out rule once...only once...and letting the coughing fit, from taking seawater into my lungs, die out, I actually started having some fun. I tried to stay in water between five and six feet deep. My friends were fairly pleasant about not trying to horse around or drag me out to deeper water. The water was blue and clear. We took photos underwater. The fish were many and varied. They would nip at your shins when they saw the bag of peas.

I motored around on the top of the water, taking in the fish and plant life. I felt like one of those divers at an aquarium who get in the tanks to feed the fish or do a nature show. I even saw a turtle.

By now, others were showing up at the beach, including...girls. My confidence was high, so I figured I would show off a bit.

I kicked and traveled all around the bay, routinely checking on the location of the various females. The beach was starting to get a good sized weekend crowd. I spotted some "chicks" out near the center of the water, playing around in between the reefs. Some of my buddies were diving from the rocks on one side. Impressive, but too far from the targets. I figured, I could just kick over in their direction, strike up small talk about snorkeling and feeding the fish. Maybe get some peas and take a few pictures with them. Maybe make plans for Saturday night.

Ah, what a casanova I was then. I sighted them in, and kicked off from the reef where I was standing. The water grew cloudier as the sand was being churned by all the swimmers, so I moved outward into clearer water. When I came up, I had grossly miscalculated. I was even with the girls, but I was much farther out in the bay than they were.

Resighting, I set off again. After a few seconds, the water clouded up again, so I just kept on kicking, figuring I would stop after a count of fifteen. I felt great like I was really going an impressive speed. I had really gotten the hang of snorkeling.

Then I heard the high pitched screams. Immediately after that, my mask was ripped from my face, pulled down to nearly my neck. I breathed in a little water, and started spitting and coughing. I tried to stand, but found myself over top of a solid bed of sand and I smacked my knees into it hard. I was on all fours. I couldn't see. I stood up, mask on my chin, nose dribbling, coughing seawater, trying to keep myself from throwing up. I wiped my eyes and opened them.

I had overshot the girls by about twenty yards. I was standing practically on the beach in water less than a foot deep. The screams I heard were from terrified toddlers who had been playing at the water's edge. I scared them and splashed them with my furious kicks. Everyone in that section of the beach was watching me, including the life guard. My forehead was scraped, one knee was bleeding (and stinging from the saltwater) and I couldn't stop coughing.

I removed all my snorkeling gear and walked over to my towel. A few people were laughing, but most were staring in disbelief.

I did not look to see if the girls had noticed. I made no eye contact with anyone.

I stayed on the beach until we left.

One of my friends, who saw the incident, said that he had never seen any person actually run aground before. Friends are great when you're young. They give you an honest perspective.

Testing our responsibilities

We will not be traveling this weekend. There are no field hockey games. There are no parties.

The family will be sorely tested, including me.

We need to put away all the Halloween decorations, do another round of leaf pickup, clean up the RV and decide on winterizing it or not, and clean the bedrooms. If there is time, we need to clean up the small shed (for bikes and outdoor toys) and clean out the garage.

Do we have the energy? Will the kids' homework take huge amounts of time? Will last minute invites to an event get in the way? Will they talk me into going to a movie? (I haven't been in a month or two. I'm normally good for about two per month.)

Will I keep my cool? Will I be tactful? I tried that last weekend and failed miserably. Why is it so difficult to be tactful with family? Looking at it from an outsiders' perspective, I'd say we were pretty rough on each other.

We're not the most organized family. Jocelyn takes care of stuff around the house until I sense that she's gonna blow a gasket, then I do a few things to ease the pressure. If things start to bother me, then I do things like sweep, mop, dust, etc. So, I'm fairly certain that Jocelyn and I can tackle our share of the workload.

But I'm not so sure about Monica and Gabe. They treat school like it is a job. So, they feel that after homework is completed, they've earned their downtime. I think we haven't given much effort into instilling a sense of responsibility for the common aspects of sharing a home. This weekend will be a real test.

I get the added bonus of quality attic time when we put away the Halloween decoration containers. While I am up there I can look over the green and red plastic Christmas bins, just waiting for Thanksgiving weekend, when I get to bring them downstairs for the next major decorating effort.

Anyone else having issues getting everyone to pitch in to keep the house maintained? Or does the responsibility fall on one or two people? (Now, I know some of you live alone and you do all the work yourself, but then you were the only person making any messes, right?)

Why do I dread this? Think how happy I will be when the house feels open and clean...we will be happier. We will. We must.

Socrates! The Musical

I've been dying to wax philosophical on this blog. I'll get all dreamy, drowsy and I'll think: hey, i bet everyone wants to hear what I think about the impossibility of comprehending the "moment". Yes, yes, we can "live in the present" but we can't comprehend it. When we do, it is, by definition, already passed. It's kind of like an Uncertainty Principle for living. You can't know and do at the same time.

This is why some people drop routine flyballs in baseball. They're thinking about it, instead of just doing it. That's why people get "in the zone" in sports or work or life, because they are not thinking about it, they're just doing it.

But I don't think you want to hear my pseudo-philosophical musings.

You want to hear about the future Tony Award winning show: Socrates! The Musical. It's the story of, who else, Socrates, and his crazy zany life as the gadlfy of Athens.

Here are some highlights:

It opens at Socrates' famous hangout with the song, I Like It Here (in the Symposium) performed by Socrates, Phaedrus, and Alcibiades. [Because I'm not a composer, I've based my songs on existing tunes such as America from West Side Story.]

Alcibiades also sings of his brotherly love for Socrates with I Could Have Talked All Night.

Featuring his long-suffering wife, Xanthippe, singing the powerful Don't Cry for Me, Peloponnesus.

After many adventures around the city, Socrates is arrested and brought to trial for corrupting the city's youth: Once in Love with Ganymede (sung by Socrates) and I've Grown Accustomed to His Questioning (a young Plato sings this.)

The emotional finale takes place around Socrates' death bed. There is a dance sequence driven by the song One Sip of Hemlock (think One Night in Bangkok from Chess.) Socrates drinks the poison and dies as the cast quietly sings, building to a crescendo:

When humanity questions big ideas
And the answers are hard to find
We take the first steps to happiness
By trying to free our minds

This is the dawning of the Age of Philosophy
Age of Philosophy
Philosophy!
Philosophy!

All right, all right, I'll stop.

But if you have other Broadway songs that I could fit in here, I'd love to hear them.

A decidedly Baltimore theme for the mixtape

Well...the only music that will be added this week are the two pieces that I put forth on Sunday:

Good Morning, Baltimore - Nikki Blonsky

Bright Blue Music - Michael Torke, composer; performed by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, conducted by David Zinman

Two pieces, two Baltimore references.

I know that must gall you.

You cannot let this stand.

You must put forth your favorite happy music to be included on the mixtape this week.

Just leave a comment with your recommendations. You can even do it anonymously.

Oh my...I'm begging. I'll stop.

But I'll start up again next week if you don't help me out here.

The ultimate hair homage to love

Saigon Kick was one of my favorite bands from the early 90s. They were difficult to categorize. Their songs ran the gamut from light poppy love songs to driving metal thunder with all sorts of exotic sounds in between.

This song, All I Want, is from their second album, The Lizard, released in 1992 (yes, I own it.) Pretty late for hair metal.

I was, I am, I always will be a foolish romantic. For the longest time, I thought of love as a rescue mission, a supreme gift intended to help the person I chose. It didn't occur to me that once the "help" was given, a relationship would have to be built on something else.

I made that mistake many times before I realized that I needed to find someone that I liked. I needed to find someone that I wanted for me and hopefully she would want me back for herself.

She had to be independent, preferably educated, definitely intelligent. She would be allowed to have a past, but she wouldn't dwell on it. (I know we weren't going to dwell on mine.) She had to have close friends, but she also had to be self-reliant. Basically, I was looking for a woman who didn't need me.

Jocelyn certainly didn't need me. To this day, I don't think she "needs" me. But she does want me. And I want her.

And that leads us to this song. Toward the end, the lyrics go like this:

I never thought the sun would rise
On a day as fine as this
All my life
I would dream it happened
All I want is you
All I need is you

Maybe I should put this song on the mixtape.

Happiness and influenza

My maternal grandmother, Linda, whom we called "Granny" was born in 1904. She died when she was nearly 90 years old.

Back in the mid 1970s, a little kid version of me went on a genealogy binge. (We'll talk more about the wonder of family history at some point.) Besides gathering birth, death, and marriage dates, I also had the presence of mind to ask questions about childhoods. I'm sure Granny didn't give an 11-year old the straight scoop on every topic (like the details on meeting and marrying my grandfather who was 13 years her junior.)

Being 11, I was interested in her take as a young girl on World War I. She mentioned that people followed along in the newspaper. There were no televisions or radios. I could always tell when my grandmother would lose herself in thought. She would look down at her hands or her large round knees (she always wore a house dress) and then she'd raise her head and look you in the eye when she spoke. If she did that, she was being very serious.

She told me about the summer and fall of 1918. She remembered being scared. She remembered people she knew falling ill and dying, including kids her age. She remembered not really caring that the war was over. She was remembering the Spanish Flu outbreak.

The flu usually isn't dangerous, but it is debilitating and it causes problems for the elderly and for the very young. This is where the mortality rates for flu are high. Flu will keep you from working and living well for two to four weeks, but if you are a healthy kid or adult, it is rarely fatal. None of this was true in 1918. Healthy children and adults were the ones dying.

My grandmother remembered vividly. You could tell by listening to her, nearly sixty years later, what a devastating effect it had on her childhood. She didn't know the real impact, but estimates are that 50 million people died during the epidemic in less than 2 years. (Compare to AIDS which resulted in 25 million deaths in its first 25 years.)

Granny got a flu shot every year. I do the same thing.

Jocelyn already took her shot. I'm scheduled for next week after I return from this business trip (I'm in Texas again.) A few years ago, Jocelyn skipped her shot. In mid-January she got the flu. By March she was feeling better. She had a three week period of aches, pains, fever, constant stuffiness and a cough. The cough led to pains in her throat and chest. And you have to watch out for pneumonia symptoms.

It's not very fun. It certainly doesn't make anyone happy.

The shot doesn't make you sick, though your arm can be sore for a day or two. There's a nasal spray version that uses a weakened virus (not a dead virus like in the shot) so you can avoid the needle.

You should ask your doctor. The CDC has some info available about vaccinations.

In the interest of full disclosure, I work for a company that sells and distributes (but does not manufacture) flu vaccines. This fact has absolutely nothing to do with this post.

I feel strongly that avoiding the flu is a key to happiness over the winter months. The flu isn't very likely to kill any of us, but that doesn't mean that I am willing to suffer through an avoidable illness.

What are your thoughts on the flu vaccine? Have you ever had the flu?

Secrets to Happiness: Secret #10

While fried chicken represents happiness for many of us, it is not the 10th not-so-secret secret. We recognize that there are people who do not care for this food, or any meat, or they are not allowed to consume the saturated fats. This image is meant to portray, on a personal level for me, what the 10th secret is all about:

Indulge periodically

Yes, that's right. Indulge yourself sensually. This can take many forms like eating a favorite, but possibly unhealthy food. Or spending an entire day relaxing. Take that drive in the country. Finally go to that spa and get the full treatment. Sit in front of the TV with your favorite beverage. Do something that you don't have to do, but that you want to do.

But be smart about it. Don't overindulge. This secret is intended to be a respite from your daily grind, from watching what you eat, from being a servant to others. But you can't go overboard and you can't give in to violence (you know who you are.) That wouldn't be good. It means, once a week have a couple slices of cheesecake. Lay on the couch with a book or the remote. Go shopping for yourself.

Remember the word periodically, too. Give these indulgences some space or you'll wind up like me in my twenties. Once a week is a pretty good gap. That means you have to stick to your guns the rest of the time. Be sure to schedule this, so folks know you're having some "me" time.

I know what a couple of you are thinking. Hey, I have "me" time everyday. Well, if you can control it and you feel good about yourself and your life, then more power to you. But if you don't...well, that's another secret.

My indulgence is three pieces of fried chicken: two thighs and a drumstick. Popeye's when I can get it. Over time, though, this indulgence has lost a lot of its prior enjoyment. So, my indulgences change. I'm apt to read for a three hour stretch now...but I still love my chicken on occasion.

What about you?

Pocket story: The Purpose of Confession

It mars every human contact that I have had for the last twenty-five years. I make friends, we spend happy times together and then, it always happens, there comes a point that I know I need to tell them.

When I do tell them, the reactions vary. Sometimes they think I’m kidding. Other times, they’re shocked and they act horrified and tell me that they can’t handle it. Then there are the worst responses, the ones of mock empathy and understanding. No matter which reaction I receive, these friends become suddenly busy whenever I try to make plans.

I have lived in sixteen different places since it happened. That is, since I did it.

Now I’ve gone and fallen in love.

Until today, I haven’t been able to tell her.

I want to propose to Chloe. I know that if I were to do it right now, she would say yes. We’ve been dating for almost a year. If I don’t tell her, if I don’t explain the pall that has hung over more than two-thirds of my life, then Chloe is in love with the wrong guy.

Chloe, I say, looking up from my breakfast.

She raises her eyes from the newspaper spread on the table. She has short blonde hair, straight, shiny, full of life. She has one pajama clad leg bent under her. Her other foot is on the chair and she rests her chin on her knee. She smiles.

Chloe, I want to tell you something. A flutter of anticipation on her face gives way to a look of innocent curiousity.

I rise and walk to her and drop to my knees and take her hands in mine. Biting my lip, I begin my story.

I tell her how I was only ten years old and I lived with my brother and parents on a ranch. My dad took care of the horses. We were in what seemed like the middle of nowhere and my brother had gone with my mother into town. My dad was working and I was alone.

Chloe gripped my hands in anticipated sympathy, but did not interrupt.

I remember being bored, I tell her, and I took an old coffee can and stuffed it with a handful of sticks. I set it out away from the house and I tried to light it with some matches, only the wind was blowing too hard and kept extinguishing them. And I remember thinking of getting the can lit as a personal challenge.

I managed to block the wind long enough to light the coffee can. The fire was weak so I stuffed the can with more wood and needles and I overdid it because the fire was large when a gust of wind blew it over.

My eyes tear as I tell her this. Chloe squeezes my hands and her eyes droop in sadness.

I couldn’t stop the fire, Chloe. I tried so hard, but the wind took it over the fields and away from me.

I stop talking. I look at Chloe for some sign. Then I see it. She’s heard the story. I can see her reaction. I’m no longer me in her eyes. I’m someone else.

Having told her, I feel better, but Chloe is clearly having an inner struggle.

That could just be an initial reaction. I will lie to myself and feign happiness until this plays out.

We need your tune recommendations

We're building a nice selection of happiness music here at the Happiness Notebook. Thanks to everyone who has recommended songs so far. Your work isn't done however.

I need you to recommend more songs. Everyone can do so. The worst thing that could happen is that we don't include it.

What would make that happen? Well, let's say you nominated Tom Dooley by the Kingston Trio or The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot. Or maybe you really like Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds so you nominate one of his more uplifting songs. Well, despite the fact that all of these are marvelous songs and classics at that, they really aren't happy tunes.

There is a time and a place for sad, gloomy songs. We need them, but that's for another mixtape project.

In the meantime, let's hear the uplifting tunes that you love. They need not be superficial, though some will be. Any genre is fine.

Leave your suggestions in the comments.

I have to thank the folks at says-it.com for their perfect custom image generators.

Cold nights and hot s'mores

(photo by Anvilcloud on flickr)

We decided to go camping. We hit the road about 2 in the afternoon. When we arrived at the campground we knew our campsite was going to have only water and electric, no sewer hookup. Not really a problem.

The water and electric were set up on the site as if you had to pull in. We wanted to back in so that the side door opened onto the area where the fire pit and tables were located. Luckily, I have extra power cords and hoses. We covered the lines with an outdoor woven rug, so there would be no tripping.

We purchased a mesh fire screen to conform to the burn ban laws. We're camping right next to a creek, the ground is still soggy from last week's rain, but the VA governor is going to keep the ban going until we have snow. The ban feels like a symbolic act of solidarity with the people of southern California at this point than any effective fire prevention method. (Many campers were ignoring the ban and it's lengthy list of exceptions altogether, but that isn't what we're here to talk about.)

I build the fire, adding a few logs as they burn down, not for warmth (that is how I use the fire) but to build a bed of hot coals. You know it's hot when all colors of the visible spectrum can be seen in the glow.

At this point, the rest of the family enters a state of high agitation. They have lined a table with graham crackers, bars of chocolate, and a bag of marshmallows. They each are gripping a long wooden stick with a big white marshmallow skewered on the end.

These are held over the hot coals and slowly rotated until the marshmallow gets plump and tan like me on summer vacation. Then they press it between a sandwich of graham crackers and chocolate, twisting the skewer as it is removed.

At this point, ravenous consumption begins. If all has gone well, there is a hot squishy marshmallow mildly melting a square of milk chocolate, all sandwiched between two squares of graham cracker.

Many people like to preconstruct their s'mores and place them on a makeshift flat surface and hold that over the flame. This heats everything up and melts the chocolate. You do run the risk of losing the entire s'more in a fiery accident with this method.

Either way, I'm not a big fan of these things. But they bring great pleasure to everyone else in the family and I enjoy watching them build and eat them.

Full day of activities planned, but we probably won't do half of them. We'll see. I have to wake my sugar-ladened family now.

Share your campfire ritual in the comments.