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Passing It On: Prolific Times Three

There’s no better way to finish off the weekend and start a new week than with an award.

Mary Campbell shared her Happiness 101 award with me a few days ago. Today, Linda Cassidy Lewis honors me with the title of Prolific Blogger (you can read about the award itself, here).

More than a testament of my writing, both these awards are evidence of the strong connections we find with other writers, whether online or in person. Mary’s award gave me an introspective opportunity to ask myself what it means to be really happy. Linda’s award offers me a chance to ponder the word Prolific.

I’m a big fan of the thesaurus. Some writers refuse to use it, but I love it. I’m a visual person. When I see one word in isolation, it sometimes appears flat to me. But, when I read through the word’s synonyms, the word takes shape in a more meaningful way for me.

Prolific: fruitful, generative, innovative, plenteous.

The maker of the award ask that recipients pass it on to seven other bloggers. Seven is a big number. Three is more magical for me. I hope Advance Booking will keep me on the list of winners even as I side-step that rule. At any rate, here are three bloggers I love who deserve the title of Prolific:

  1. My friend Sarah, Ms. Celiac in the City, is a wealth of information about gluten-free living. I can manage gluten, but I have to consider a nut-free, egg-free diet for one of my kids. Sarah and I talk food quandaries as often as we can, and she provides resources to other sites with food allergies at the forefront.
  2. Dot Hearn, whom I mentioned in my last post, is a writer out west. Though we’ve never met in person, I love having her as a friend and writing colleague. She keeps her website rolling with writing prompts and news about literary and arts events all around town. I wish I lived in Oregon or – at the least – had a large disposable income within reach, so I could fly out there whenever I darn well pleased.
  3. E. Victoria Flynn is a fellow SheWrites author and a Mother Writer. She recently began a weekly post on What to Read This Weekend where she highlights an interesting or inspiring blog. And, she created a great logo for every Mother Writer out there.

Like I plan to do, you can buy a t-shirt, a messenger bag, maybe even a magnet. My dream would be to buy a book of temporary tattoos, so I could slap the logo onto my bicep for some added sass.

***

Thank you, Linda, for acknowledging my blog. It’s an honor to display the badge. I only wish I had the kind of writing space in the picture…minus the dog. I’m terribly allergic. I doubt I’d get much writing done with a furry friend stirring up dander just below my feet.

Still…the coffee, the printer overflowing with finished works, and the light bulb going on daily with amazing and creative ideas…dreamy.

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Happy.

Happy. Content. Peaceful.

In recent days, the question of what makes me happy has come up in two different places.

On Thursday, Mary Campbell, at Writer’s Butt Does Not Apply to Me, passed on the Happy 101 blog award to me, because (and I am not making this up) “[Christi] always has something sweet to say.” I like Mary (and her blog), and I wonder if Mary might write a letter of confidence for me and mail it to my husband the next time my sweet turns to sour.

But, seriously, I believe in Karma, and the Golden Rule. My mother always told me what goes around comes around. And, as I approach the start date for a novel workshop, and imagine the thought of eleven other writers cutting loose with feedback, I hope all that good Karma and those sugar-sweet words will carry me through critiques.

On Friday, my friend Dot Hearn, at The Writing Vein, posted her second Razor’s Edge writing prompt, which centered around Happiness. Dot addresses the theme in three different ways: a written prompt, a photo, and a song by Joanna Newsom. I was entranced by the song and video. The music even stopped my three-year old dead in her tracks.

“What’s that lady singing?” she asked.

I couldn’t answer. I was too busy listening and floating and falling in love with the harp.

[You’ll have to click over to Dot’s post to watch it. It’s lovely. Really.]

Both Mary and Dot posed the same question: what makes me happy?

As Dot points out, happiness runs deeper than that giddy, maniacal feeling I get when I stay up way past my bed time and suddenly everything is funny.

Although I admit, that kind of guttural laughter from me – and especially from my kids – will cancel out a bad day in a second, my concept of true happiness is defined by contentment and an understanding that if I am comfortable in my own skin, I am happy.

I treasure those moments when happiness runs deep, grips me just below my chest, and imparts a sensation that no matter what surrounds me, good or bad, I am here. In this moment. Alive. And, I am not alone.

That kind of happiness materializes in connections I make with those around me: my family, my friends, sometimes even strangers. In the absence of words, a glance, a smile and a nod, or a hand in mine touches my core and fills me up.

***

Eye to eye, we connect.
Our backgrounds are a blur.
Our mouths are quiet,
But our minds convey:
I see you.
I know you.
I understand.

***

happy. content. peaceful.

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Incidental Fame

Well, it’s Wednesday. And, Wordsmith.org threw out a doozy today:

artiodactyl. adj. having an even number of toes on each foot.

At first, I read the definition wrong and thought, everyone has the same number of toes on each foot. Big deal.* Then, I remembered a girl back in middle school who lost one of her big toes in an accident with a lawn mower. She wore sandals anyway.

That’s intriguing, and brave. I could write about that.

But, the definition says an even number – like two, four, six, eight. Therein lies the challenge to write a story about feet that sidestep the standard five-toe precedence.

***

It was only because Allison royally pissed off her sister, Maggie, in 2007 that she agreed to the pre-wedding hair, nails, and make-up gig. She was still making amends for the Prom Queen shake up that happened their senior year at Rosemont High.

In high school, Maggie wore a cheerleader outfit and Allison dressed in Goth. When it came time to choose the Prom Queen, half the school voted for “that Carson girl.” It wasn’t until Maggie tried to take the stage, and the crown, at the Prom Dance that they both realized the school voted for Goth, not Glamour. The principal waved Maggie off the stage and motioned for Allison to take the spotlight.

That night, Maggie screamed across the dinner table that she was appalled and angry and “HUMILIATED!”

Allison shrugged her shoulders. “I had no idea,” she told her parents. “You know me, I only went to the Prom, because Maggie insisted!”

Maggie didn’t talk to Allison for the next two years.

Last Christmas, when Maggie got engaged, Allison agreed to stand up in her wedding. Wanting to keep the peace, she promised to do whatever Maggie asked to prepare. An up-do was hard enough to swallow, but when Maggie mentioned pedicure, Allison almost choked. In silent defiance, Maggie dared her to say no, to give good reason for another Maggie boycott. But, Allison just smiled.

“Sure, just say when and where!”

It was on a Saturday at a nail salon in a strip mall on the northwest side of town. After an hour and a half bus ride on a 100 degree day, Allison welcomed a foot soak and a rub. She eased her anxiety by reminding herself Maggie was the star of the show. All I have to do is sit, smile, and let them paint.

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