Skip to main content

Things That Make Me Happy.

My girliefriend Laura got this idea from her girliefriend Laura. I'm not a Laura, but I feel I'm still allowed to follow suit.

Here's a list of things that make me happy.

1. six dollar bottles of Cabernet.
2. friends who offer junk punches, but only when they're deserved.
3. blazing hot showers.
4. Lucy and Blondie.
5. Olive and Charley.
6. and Morty.
7. living in my own house.
8. laying in my comfortable ass bed. seriously, if you were in it, you wouldn't want to get up either.
9. that brief bit of time when you're driving to the beach and you cross the Inter-coastal. That moment when you know the ocean's only a stone's throw away and you'll be there in a blink. That minute, when coupled with the perfect song (a personal preference, of course) is serene.
10. Punk Rock Beach Party Volume 1.
11. The officially discontinued Crisper's Cobb Salad. (and now I recognize a brief moment of silence for the Cobb......)
12. JCFS
13. My friends on SparkPeople who support me unabashedly.
14. riding my bike and jogging.
15. planning vacations to new places.
16. spoiling myself with some light shopping.
17. naps in the car on sunny days.
18. "one more minute . . ."
19. making things with my hands -- pottery. jewelry. cards.
20. hugs made with love.

Comments

Samsmama said…
I didn't care for Florida when I lived there (no offense), but I always loved driving over the Inter-coastal. I lived beach side but worked on "main land". Driving home at night was such a spectacular view.
revolutionaire. said…
Angela, you make me happy too.

You fall into # 7, # 11, # 15, # 16, # 19, and definitely # 20.

I think I'd be lost without you.


I love you!

Popular posts from this blog

Someone busier than you is running right now.

I have a confession to make to my spark buddy, Melissa: I did not go for a run last night. I'm terrible, I know. Here's what else I know: 1. I have never made such great progress in getting into shape as I did when I was jogging regularly. 2. My knee starts to stay in a constant state of noticeable discomfort after I've jogged for over a week. 3. I miss the liberating feeling of running. 4. I miss the empowerment of cross-training (biking, swimming, running) So I've been perusing the intarwebz for motivational media this morning. And while I hate Nike for their shoddy work ethic, jacked up prices, and apparently tiny clothes, I love them for their motivational material. I just have yet to find any media more inspiring to me than the following advertisements. And ... "I am addicted. I've collected footsteps before dawn. Seen places I never knew existed. Run to the moon and back. Been a rabbit for the neighborhood dogs. Obeyed the voice in my head. Let music carr

The heat is on...

I've got to admit, now that people are actively involved with following and commenting on this blog, I feel pressured to write legitimately interesting stuff. Some things that peeve me: 1. I typically don't complain about misspellings of my name, but after three years, my co-worker still doesn't know my name is spelled with one L. Whenever he writes a message for me, he directs it to "All-" ugh. Initially I thought, maybe this message is for ALL of us. Wrong. It's specifically for me, he just doesn't know it only has one L. And I bet a million pesos he also doesn't finish spelling it out because he doesn't know it ends in i-s-o-n. I mean, it is a tricky name after all. 2. I went grocery shopping yesterday. I had a list of five things to get in Publix: dog food, dog treats, Gatorade, wine, toilet paper. I came out with 15 things (I counted because I wondered if I could squeeze into the express check-out... nope). I came out with 15 things -- NONE of

603.

I never told you this story, but when I was a three, I had to have physical therapy for a broken femur. Every single day we drove to PT, we went over a small, fairly insignificant overpass with had a shopping plaza below it. The address for the shopping plaza was just barely visible over the bridge. And it was 603. And every single day as we went over, I would excitedly blurt out the numbers to show my mom I recognized them. This turned into a game for us. And eventually, a tradition. Fast forward into my "more grown up" ages ... like ... high school. And, if you could be a fly in my truck, you would have without a doubt witnessed me driving over the overpass by myself and, sure enough, I'd just say it ... "six oh three." Shortly after high school is when I met Seth, Tommy, Leif, Troy, and Jonesy in Gainesville. Still, there was no connection. Their friends and families came to visit, we then bonded, they returned home, and still, nothing. It wasn't until th