u s e y o u r h a n d s

Dear Shylo’s Hair, I love you. You are very soft and very pretty.

Dear Shylo’s Skin, Get along better with her sunblock.

Dear Shylo’s Feet, Carry her further and faster.

Dear Shylo’s Paws, Thanks for toughing it out on the bike.

Dear Shylo’s Stomach, Enough with the hummus already.

Dear Shylo, I’m very pleased with you.

My new thing is to ask both myself and others, “What’s the best thing that happened today?” I think it helps cease complaints and reframe your day. And it works, mostly. But of course there are the days that finding even one good thing is a struggle. And on those days, I reach into my desk for a fancy bag of fancy chocolate and break off a square. That bag, just its existence, makes me happy because I know that it’s a ready-made answer to my daily question.

I had a ridiculously fantastic week, full of long walks and concerts and bike rides in the rain and art shows and baseball games and urban planning lectures. Oh, and a car accident. A little one. Wasn’t my fault and I wasn’t hurt. Just a stiff neck, but I had a massage planned for this a.m. anyway.

Even after the accident, when I let myself cry three tears and that was it, I put a smile on my face and thanked whomever that I was fine, as was my trusty Subaru Legacy, Cleo. And today, post-massage and post-shopping excursion, I hopped on my bike again for what turned out to be a 15 or 16 mile trip. Then a lecture! Then a ride home.

I am thankful for my glorious life and hope it is long enough so I can do something worthy of it.