122. Let there be love

Safe travels.

The toddler slowly toddling in front of me in the airport screening corral, who caused me to relax and slow down.

A while-driving conversation that moved us miles toward understanding.

Being with people who knew me when I was young.

Being with people who are not blood kin but have folded me into their family.

The gold standard of scalloped potatoes.

The 4-year-old girl who took my picture with her mama's camera and told me, "Good job!"

Singing.

Laughing.

Lights.

A beautiful Christmas Eve to you, and a happy Christmas Day. Let there be love.

121. Anticipate

The coworker/friend who is always glad to feed and talk with my cat when I'm away, and insists it's no problem to come by every day.

The Cajun-themed Christmas potluck at work, especially the crawfish fettucine and the "mock shoe." And my favorite, cherry pie.

Correctly guessing that someone would rather anticipate it today than be surprised tomorrow.

Feeling hugged inside one of my daddy's soft old rugby shirts.

Mutual delight in a collaborative project.

Cash in hand and in the bank.

Random acts of singing.

120. Some backstory about a recipe box

More than three years ago I bought a secondhand recipe box (stuffed with recipes) at Savers for $1.63. It belonged to someone named Cora Chacey, and I could tell a few things about her from what was in the box.

I looked her up in the obits, talked to an acquaintance of mine who went to her church, and tried to learn more. Nothing but dead ends. I wrote about that for the Art House America blog.

I reprised that story for the Food section of my paper, and it was published last Wednesday. One of my hopes was that it might turn up someone who remembered Cora.

Today a reader called (after digging the Food section out of the trash, where her husband had tossed it after working the crossword). She'd been Cora's neighbor for 22 years. Lived two houses away. Didn't know her well, but told me a lot more than I knew before she called (including that Cora wore her hair in a pixie cut; I had imagined a perm).

That phone call made my day.

Other good things I know today:
• There were cookies and cookies and cookies and cookie cake at work.
• Two friends temporarily in the same place met for lunch, and it made me happy to have introduced them and to see friendship grow.
• One sick friend is on the mend, and another is hanging in there.
• I turned in a piece I'd worked hard on, and my editor made it better by taking out some of my favorite parts, and I was OK with that.
• I talked to my brother. We don't do that enough.
• I had a big long loud laughing spell because the cat stepped on my phone and activated Siri, and she heard me laughing and said (rather humorlessly), "Hee, hee."
(And more, but a girl's gotta have some secrets.)

How was your day?

119. Willingness

A tentative-turning-to-generous conversation about race.

Singing Christmas carols. 

Delight in being with my lunch peeps. 

Photos of a gift being used. 

And someone's willingness to try, even if it's hard at first.

118. Second-day lasagna

a productive writing day

a cherry turnover and second-day lasagna (always better than first-day)

a generative conversation

not having to drive anywhere

delight in knowing a surprise arrived and was appreciated

clean towels and sheets

117. with a head full of dreams

Sleeping in, with a head full of dreams (I must've needed it).

Exceptional courtesy, competence, listening skills and cheerfulness in a medical practice's reception staff.

Getting most of my Christmas shopping done and half of it wrapped.

The "hey, did you" question that reminded me I hadn't, and the good news that it wasn't too late to. 

Clam chowder and crusty bread.

116. Laughter and snacks

Grateful, today:

That a coworker reading a proof caught an unintended double entendre in a headline I wrote, and helped me reword it.

To laugh almost to the point of helplessness over a discussion of what some organic granola tastes like, and what the heck those twiglike bits are.

To be graciously forgiven for something I had a twinge about and then did anyway.

For every woman in my writing group, and everything about our meeting tonight. Seriousness, intensity, affirmation, helpful criticism, more loud, hard, can't-help-it laughter, getting to meet a precious little girl. And snacks.

For a shiny package in the mail bearing a sweet little gift.

To see that a package bearing a sweet big gift arrived at its destination.

For the feeling of abundance that comes from having a big bowl of little oranges on the table, and giving some away every day (especially if I get to practice my aim and lob one at a coworker).

That something's going to work out.

For the advice, "Do the next thing."

115. Hope

Someone going home from the hospital.

People who help me look at things from different angles.

The cheery glow of the little tree on the copy desk.

Reminders to always look for the hope.

Hearing from readers about their own cherished recipes.

Coworkers doing something nice for a sick boy.

Various people collaborating on sweet surprises.

What gave you hope today? 

114

An in-the-zone writing session.

Astute editing help.

Spring rolls and fortune cookies at work.

A generative brainstorming conversation.

A chat with an engaging and well-mannered little boy.

The music of others' laughter.

113. Goodness, what a Monday

Homemade chocolate-pudding cookies at work this morning, because Monday.

Sunshine breaking through the clouds on and off all day.

Four beautiful voices on Voxer.

Two Christmas cards and a check in the mail.

The growth of relationship through nothing but the written word.

The "you know that you know" sense that made it easy to say no to something I might once have been tempted by. 

The joy of joining others in creative acts of love.

Goodness, what a good Monday. How was yours?

112. You shall know them by their superpowers

I really liked a post I read today at Storyline about introducing people by who they are rather than what they do for a living. I strongly encourage you to go read it.

Here's how I might introduce some of my friends:

This friend's superpower is hospitality.

This friend takes even silly questions seriously and answers them thoughtfully. 

This friend studies problems from all angles, as if they were a Rubik's Cube, and then solves them. 

This friend charms coyotes.

This friend is made of steel and afghan. 

This friend rocks babies on Fridays. 

This friend's superpower is knowing the app for that. 

This friend knows Greek and plays drums in a band. 

This friend's superpower is scoring bargains. 

This friend loves estate sales. 

This friend can do math in his head. 

This friend misses driving farm equipment. 

This friend is the hub of her wagon wheel of family. 

This friend delights in growing her own food. 

This friend is calm in a crisis. 

This friend is handy with a shotgun. 

This friend is like a sister, and was there for me during a painful transition. 

This friend is like a brother, and has come to my rescue more than once. 

This friend's superpower is diagnosing illness. 

This friend leaves little milks in fridges. 

This friend's superpower is reflecting the best of you back to yourself. 

I'd kind of like to write these — at least one of these — for each one of my friends. And it goes without saying — but I'll say it anyway — that I am grateful for them. And wealthy because of them.  

How would you introduce a friend you're grateful to have? 

111. Pajamas all day

Banished a headache. 

Read a whole book. 

Wore pajamas all day. 

Saw pictures of a happy boy. 

Drank hot chocolate. 

Let the cat play with the feathery bird ornament she hunted from the tree. 

Washed dishes meditatively.

What have you liked about your day?

110. A tasty chunk of wall

Talking with two beloved far-off friends, enjoying a book I wouldn't have picked up if it hadn't been recommended to me, hearing the Arkansas Chamber Singers in a space where they sound especially good, eating a tasty chunk of wall from a fresh homemade gingerbread house, basking in the play of an unexpected invitation.

How was your day?

109. Threes

Cookies, compliments, conversation.
Pictures, posts, play.
Voxer, email, telephone.
Toast, twice, and tea.
Libraries, laughter, love.

What did you enjoy about your day?

108. I loved loving people today

Encouraging someone with a random act of singing.

Providing the answer someone was looking for.

Complimenting someone on a story.

Praying for someone who asked.

Reassuring someone that, no, that thing she's worried might happen isn't going to happen.

Mailing someone an envelope with one expected item and some little surprises.

Making someone laugh with funny photo captions.

Telling someone she did a great job teaching.

Rejoicing that someone is much healthier.

That's what gave me joy today. How was your day?

107. Cashews and clementines

Compliments. It feels good to get, and to give.

Cashews. Their soft, buttery mouthfeel, no chore to chew. The first to go missing from the mixed nuts tin. The word like the nut, full and rounded on one end, narrower and pointy on the other.

Collaboration. Celebrating the collaboration of Ann Kroeker and Charity Singleton Craig in their new book; concocting a couple of smaller-scale collaborations of my (and others') own.

Clementines, those sweet little seedless citrus cuties. The challenge of peeling into a single curlique. How many are too many in one day?

Copy editing — today, particularly, a plenitude of proofreading. Page after page.

What charms and pleasures did your day hold? 

106. Grinning

Seeing the moonrise from my desk.

Buttering and peppering and smelling a fluffy steaming hot baked potato in my favorite bowl.

Eating it while wearing flannel pajama pants.

Winning handcrafted pottery squirrel receptacles from a coworker as a door prize at the office party I didn't even attend because I was working at the office.

Anticipating and preparing for something that has me grinning.

What  good -ing did your day bring? 

The potter said they could be toothpick holders, or candlesticks. I think
they're mechanical pencil lead and eraser and skinny sticky-note holders. 

105. Shule Aroon

Quiet time in the morning, reading in a favorite chair long enough for the cat to fall asleep in my lap.

Pulled pork and the dark molasses barbecue sauce at Whole Hog, with eleven of us elbow to elbow around the table.

Being reminded of "Shule Aroon," the Irish song my mother used to sing to me at bedtime. (It was Peter, Paul & Mary's version, which they called "Gone the Rainbow." It was on one of the three or four albums of their music that she played on her hi-fi stereo, which she had asked for instead of an engagement ring because she didn't particularly care for diamonds.)

The security guards at work who walk us to our cars after dark.

The starting-fresh feeling of a new week.

What are you glad for today? 

104. Poetry

Today I'm grateful for:

Four people who didn't know each other gathering bravely around my table to open themselves up through poems.

Our coalescing in the small kitchen.

The surprises that couldn't have worked out better if they'd been planned.

The vulnerable moment for each; the encouragement from the others.

Tweetspeak Poetry's invention of the Mischief Cafe, without which this would not have happened.

Going to bed with a cleared table, washed dishes and lingering presence.

What poetry came into your day? 

103

The thing that was easier to take care of than I thought it was going to be. 

The unusual kindness and courtesy of the person on the phone who took care of it. 

Going to a place for one need and finding something that met another. 

The lightness after taking care of something long overdue. 

Being inside when the heavy, heavy rain came.