Hack Saw Happiness

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 The Happiness Series

I am standing in the kitchen and Mr. Wonderful, my husband Bob, walks behind me headed for the garage.
“Can you get me the hack saw?” I ask.

“The hack saw?”

“Yes, that small saw with the black handle. Isn’t that what it’s called?”

“Why do you want a hack saw?”

I roll my eyes to heaven.

I have used the electric knife before and know the cord and blade are in the back of the silverware draw. However, it will be quicker if he brings the saw back with him when he is done doing whatever it was he was going to do in the garage.

Now he stands behind me breathing over my shoulder as I explain.

“If you saw this plastic container in half, I’ll be able to get the rest of the lotion out.”
The plastic bottle has been sitting upside down the past three days, and I have been sticking my pinky finger in the opening then applying lotion to my arms and legs.

Speechless at first, Mr. Wonderful says, “Lotion is on sale at Publix, I’ll go buy some.

“It’s not about the money.” It’s more like . . . . children in China have very dry skin, so eat your green beans. And this lotion has sun screen in it!”

“Okay, so you’re making a statement, you don’t want to be wasteful?”

“Sort of. Is recycling a good choice if a million gallons of water are used to clean the container.”

He interrupts, “Johnson’s Baby Magic  is a Bogo (buy one get one free) this week.”

“I feel better using the spatula to remove the dribs and drabs. See it practically fills this jar. It makes me happy.” I look at him and smile.

He smiles back. “Great. So you are on to a new kind of cause.”

“If I wanted a new  cause or to protest something, I’d refuse to show my license to have a mammogram?”

“Why do you need a license to have a mammogram?”

“Well, any picture identification. Some type of mammogram fraud. However, I cannot recognize my breasts now that they almost reach the floor. I do not argue.”

“Claudia, how many people would use a hack saw to get the last drop of lotion out of a bottle?”

I roll my eyes and say to Mr. Wonderful, “A bread knife really doesn’t work.”

. . . . just saying

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The Silent Sound of Snow – Happiness Series

I really miss snow.

Family and friends remark, “Easy to say from Florida.”

They may be right; nevertheless, beautiful winter scenes created by the recent blizzard bring me happiness and serenity.

I found myself reciting Robert Frost’s poem, “Stopping by Woods on Snowy Evening.”

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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Poem by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Frost found words to express a feeling so special it has ownership. Not his, but one to be shared.

The line, the only other sound’s the sweep of easy wind and downy flake, sparked my poem;

 

Sounds of Snow

     by Claudiajustsaying

The sound of snow after falling
A quiet stillness penetrating crisp air
Listen intensely for snare drums not there

The howl of the wind mimics French horns
Stop in soft snow tracks
An acoustical silence alone

An absence of flurry
Close your eyes
Hear the gentle whispers of nature singing

Remember that sound after snow falling  . . . never there

. . . . just saying

The Short Straw Fix/ The Happiness Series

 

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The Short Straw Fix

I am smiling at least three times a day, complimenting others and hunting for opportunities to do a random act of kindness. All the same, I find myself still leaning on the horn when cutoff driving, grumbling if Mr. Wonderful corrects me, and ranting about short tubing in spray bottles.

You know how it goes, starts slowly with minor annoyance, a near empty spray bottle that sprays air instead of cleaner. I shake the bottle, hear the swishing sound of liquid, and then pump the spray to no avail.

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 Mr. Wonderful says, “It’s not empty, try tilting the bottle,”and takes the spray bottle from my hand.

Taking it back, unscrewing the sprayer, and putting my eye to the hole, I say, “I see liquid in the bottom.”

Now this is when the ranting starts. “Why do they do this? You don’t need to be a rocket scientists to know the tubing is too short. How much would it cost to make it a quarter inch longer? Everything is all about corporate profits, forget about customer stress and convenience. A person could have a heart attack trying to get it to spray and thinking about toxins.”

“Claudia, you paid a dollar for it at the dollar store, let it go, there aren’t any big profits. It’s probably a minuscule amount, throw it out and forget about it.”

I answer. “It’s wasteful! What’s wrong with these people? Haven’t they heard about global warming? We could reuse the plastic bottle if the spray worked right. I’m sure it’s more than a minuscule amount.” And grab a measuring cup from the cabinet to measure the exact amount. The liquid pours to the quarter cup line.

In a high pitched voice I say, “See more than you think,” feeling stressed.

Then a quest for happiness returns and I see Shawn Achor’s face and recall something he said in his Ted Lecture.

“Happy people view stress as a challenge.”

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Bang

Adopting an I’ll show you attitude, I grab a colored straw, unscrew the top and attach the straw to the tubing.

It is not perfect but it works better than ranting.

. . . . just saying

P.S. I had to trim the straw.

*Mr. Wonderful is my husband