I bought a Kobo today.  The first book that I put on it? Yep, mine!!

I started The Happiness Project in 2012.  Anyone who doesn’t know what this is, it can be found http://gretchenrubin.com/books/the-happiness-project/about-the-book/
I gave the One Sentence Journal to my daughter for Christmas 2011.  My hubby  thought it was cool so I bought him one too and decided to try it myself as well.
There is space to write something that made me happy every day for 5 years.
Well, five years later, it is finished.
The close of 2016 made my journal complete.
Have I kept up with writing??
Yes, I did!
Most days, I wrote a small sentence about something I did that day that made me feel happy. Often it was about my daughter, my hubby or my dogs (my favourite things!).  Often it was about naps and getting enough sleep!  Or relaxing.  Sometimes it was about my friends and family
 
Admittedly, there were days (very few, luckily) that had few positive things but the sun still shone and that is always a good thing.  I did tend to write a lot of what I DID, instead of how it made me feel or a HAPPY thing.

Grandma painted a picture of me when I was four years old. She’s always been more of a landscape artist but her portraits -- when she does them -- are in great demand. The painting hangs over the fireplace in our family room. Grandma says often that it’s her favourite.
 
It has six images of myself on a muted background that changes from a child’s playroom on the left of the canvas, through a playground and bedroom in the middle, to a work environment on the right. The first image on the left is me as a baby playing on the carpet. The picture blurs into a four-year-old with a camera which moves into a ten-year-old swinging on a playground swing. The next image shows a teenager in a prom dress. This fades into a young woman with a camera around her neck, looking out the window of an office. The last image shows a woman with long, red hair carrying a big, black bag facing to the right. She’s heading off to the edge of the canvas, almost as if she’s moving towards her unknown future.
 
Many people have commented on Grandma’s ability to see what I would become -- I was four when it was painted. Grandma says it was more her wish for a happy life for me. It was her dream for me -- in paint -- a dream she hoped would come true.
 
I guess it’s a good omen that the background doesn’t have a beautiful scene of a tropical island.

Rebecca did nothing but complain while we were sewing. What is the problem with her? She acts like she’s the only one with a bug up her ass. (And I do mean bugs and it’s not the ass that they are crawling up -- but I won’t get into that.) She spent 20 minutes (20 MINUTES!) complaining about the weather. It’s too hot. It’s too windy. It’s too sunny. Why doesn’t it rain? Then she moved on. Her sunburn hurts. Her hair is dirty. She has a rash. She hasn’t had a bowel movement in nine days. (That’s a tad more information than I needed to know!) Her skin is itchy. She wants to go home. She even had the nerve to complain about my cooking. I am offended. She also criticized my carrying thread and needles in my backpack. Wait until she needs a tampon!

I think life is made up of moments. The mundane tasks of everyday life like grocery shopping, showering and housecleaning are swallowed up and melted together into a hazy memory. It’s the moments, whether good or bad, that stand out, that when pieced together one after the other, make up our existence. Sometimes, when I’m feeling sorry for myself, I think that maybe the bad moments of my life have been more frequent than the good moments. Or do bad memories only stand out more?
 
Whether it was the first time (and every other time after) I was called scar face, meeting Shelley, or accepting the Pulitzer, my life has been full of moments -- learning experiences as Grandma calls them. If I’m honest with myself, the good far outnumber the bad. I’m truly blessed.

Maybe moments should have a capital ‘M.’ Moments. That’s better.