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.

Happiness Notebook Mixtape Week 2

Another week down and another slate of songs to add to the Happiness Notebook Mixtape. Here they are:

Unwritten - Natasha Bedingfield

December, 1963 (Oh What a Night) - Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons

Chelsea Morning - Joni Mitchell

As - Stevie Wonder

What a Wonderful World - Louis Armstrong

That is a fine selection of happy tunes. Click on the titles to hear a 30 second clip.

Tomorrow, we'll be soliciting more songs. Think about the music that makes your toes tap or makes you smile or just makes you feel good. You don't have to be able to dance to it, though that is ok, you just need it to make you feel happy.

Do you like the list so far? What type of music is it missing?

The last camping trip of the season?

Ah, the rig. This is a photo of our first trip with it last spring. We spent our spring break in Arkansas last year. Gorgeous place. However, this is Ft. Donelson National Battlefield in Tennessee. That's the Cumberland River on the left.

Monica is working on a Junior Ranger badge as I look on. The kids' bikes and the Scion are attached to the rig, a 31 foot Minnie Winnie.

Our first time out with the rig and we encountered every type of precipitation possible in North America. Day One brought snow and freezing rain. Day Two tacked on small hail, some sleet, and more snow before warming up to a mild rain. The week before spring break, Arkansas had temperatures in the high 70s and low 80s. The week we were there averaged in the low 60s during the day, but near freezing overnight. We had two decent days of weather.

Someday, I'll write about the spots we visited and some of the stupid things I did. We're not quite the Griswolds, but I'm not too far off from Clark after I've been on the road for a bit.

We might be going camping this weekend. We're running out of decent weather and with the holidays approaching, there aren't many weekends left. We'll see what happens tomorrow.