There are constants in life that everyone, in one way or another, can say make them happy. Family. Significant Other. Friends. Co-Workers. Home. Those are the normal day to day things that always make me happy, but what about the not-so-normal things? The things that you take for granted or further explain why you are the way you are? Here’s 10 things that make me happy:
It connects me with the world, specifically friends and family, on a daily basis. Shopping alone and need advice about whether to buy something? Send a text to a friend. Miss your long-distance boyfriend? Call him. Visiting home where your parents have disabled the Internet? Thank God for the connectivity. In short, my iPhone keeps me sane and keeps me happy.
Sara Lee Pound Cake
Growing up, I remember occasionally finding this delicious food in my parents’ freezer and feeling like I had hit the jackpot. Something about the slices of moist, buttery goodness, straight from the freezer gives me comfort. And don’t even get me started on scraping the foil pan once all the cake is gone… It’s a rare treat, but one I’m happy to indulge in once or twice a year.
I’m a southern girl through and through. What’s more southern that a tall glass of Sweet Tea? Nothing. Now, if only I had a porch swing…
My dad is like any other dad, his gifts are always practical. I’ve received financial self-help/guidance books, eye glass cleaning kits, and illustrated stock market guides over my 26 years, but the gift that I love the most from him is this fleece blanket. It’s pre-Snuggie construction, providing a pocket for your feet, is long enough for 6’2″ me to stretch out on the couch and STILL be covered shoulder to feet in its warmth.
I never imagined I’d become one of those people that would NEED exercise or miss it when they couldn’t attend. But in the last year, I have and it’s all because of Jazzercise. It’s provided me with stress relief, laughter, and, above all, strength.
Needlepoint connects me to my past, reminds me of childhood weekends spent watching The Sound of Music at Ottie’s house while she made needlepoint stockings for new grandchildren. It calms me, clears my head, and gives me control for a brief moment in time. Simply put, it centers me.
It hangs prominently in my kitchen and as soon as I put it on I feel like an Anthropologie wearing Julia Child. It’s been worn through countless batches of Crack Cookies, Peanut Butter Oreo Pie, and Creme de Menthe Brownies. Through Bruschetta, Chili, and Israeli Spice Chicken. And sometimes, I forget I’m in my apartment in Central Arkansas and pretend I have my own show on Food Network.
Wait, I probably shouldn’t have said that last part. Forget I ever told you.
6524 songs. That’s my collection. Each song put there for a reason, even if the reason escapes me when the song plays for the first time in several years. Music makes me smile, distracts me when I’m working on busy graduate school work, and gives me a beat to which I can bop my head.
Not that I would EVER bop my head.
My DVR is one of the only things, human or otherwise, I have been able to count on consistently. When I turn it on I know it will answer and won’t ignore me, no matter the time of day. It is always available to me, even in the worst of times. It is programmed to know what I want and desire, and knowing those wants and desires are only a click away makes me happy.
They give me a glimpse into my past, support that spark of recollection I have about a certain experience. They tell MY story. Knowing that story is available to me whenever I feel nostalgic makes me so incredibly happy.