The Happiness Series, “From Crappy to Happy”

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From Crappy to Happy

 

      It is a possibility the road from crappy to happy is much shorter than I think. I took the Customized Habit Survey at Goodthink to find out what happiness habit was best for me. After answering questions I was emailed my score along with a score range for recommended activities that will increase happiness when made a habit.

• Score 1-15    You are drained, and smiling three times a day for 21 days you will make you happier.

• Score 16-24 Defines a person as energized, and writing or saying aloud 3 new things you are grateful for, trains your brain to be more positive.

• Score 25-34 you are charged and will realize your power by complimenting three people a day.

• Score 35-50 Supercharged, challenges you to recharge others by doing an act of kindness daily.

      Apparently, I am happier than I thought. My score, 39 points, indicates I am happy, but do not know it. Therefore, I started singing “If You Are Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands” and putting a strip of toothpaste across *Mr. Wonderful’s toothbrush (so he does not have to do it in the morning) in the middle of the night .

      Although I am not opposed to doing random acts of kindness to be happy, it is harder than you think to do a “Good Deed Daily,” when you have not left the house. And the toothpaste thing left Mr. Wonderful thinking he has early Alzheimers.

      In retrospect, feeling not as happy as I am, I thought my score would be lower and the cure would be writing about happiness.

     Which poses another quandary, what makes me happy?

     I thought long and hard over the past week and found my choices, (other than family and friends) of wine and ice cream, shallow. Although wine and ice cream are pleasurable, would gaining ten pounds bring real happiness? On the other hand, what difference does it make what makes you happen as long as it produces an increase in dopamine?

        Oy vey, happiness is getting complicated.

     So back to the original premise, reliving a happy experience will increase happiness. Would writing about eating ice cream, bring the same happiness as eating a double scoop cone?

        It is worth a try and calorie free.

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I Want a Cone

What is so special about ice cream? Is it the tantalizing fancy names like Rocky Road, Chunky Monkey, or Vanilla Fudge Twirl that conjure up images and make you want to swirl? Ice cream so delicious it makes our tongues dance and our hearts sing.

      Maybe, it is an association with happy times, birthdays, graduations and that kind of thing. Memories of a Good Humor truck driving through your neighborhood, and running home to beg for fifteen cents. Then as the jingling bell sound grew distant, hoping the truck would drive back again.

     Deciding, how to spend your fifteen or twenty-five cents, was a big decision. Would it be a vanilla ice cream coated in chocolate on a stick, or a sugar cone filled with ice cream, coated in chocolate with roasted peanuts decorating the lip?

     Ice cream makes me happy.

. . . . just saying

 *Mr Wonderful is my husband of 45 years.

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Sweet Memories

Goodies  (Not the Franklin but close)

 

I love the way a dear friend captured the nostalgia of eating ice cream and asked her to guest blog. The inspiration came from her love of ice cream and July being national ice cream month. Please leave a comment for Glenda as she doubts others will find it enjoyable. 

   

              The Franklin Ice Cream Store by Glenda Cunard                                                                                                                                                                             

“You scream, I scream, we all scream for ice cream.” Isn’t this the mantra for most little children in the good ole USA?

I remember my twin brother and sister sitting beside me in the back seat of our car and all of us chanting this little rhythm every time we got close to an ice cream store.

It all started in the 1930’s when I was about 4 yrs old and lived on Bellview Street in Indianapolis. (Now a rundown dilapidated street with shabby rental homes.) But, it in the golden days of my childhood there stood the most exciting building in the neighborhood, The Franklin Ice Cream Store.

In the afternoon, after our bath and clean clothes we would sit on the front porch waiting for Dad to come home. One could look to the left across the street and see the 8th Christian church, which was catty-corned from Public School 51. When you looked to the right there stood the Franklin ice cream store.  It was on the corner of Bellview and 16th street. A busy intersection that we could never go down alone. I thought it the most beautiful ice cream store I had ever seen. It looked like something from a fairytale. It was a rather small white stucco building with a most unusual roof. The roof was sculptured all around the top like small snow-capped mountains with icicles hanging down on all sides of the building.

Just looking at the building made you feel cool. At least two times a week and always on Friday evening after dinner, the family walked to the Franklin ice cream store. We looked like we were following the Pied Piper, Mom, the two older girls, me, and my twin brother and sister all following Dad down the street.

This store did not have 31 flavors, sugar-free, all natural ingredients, Neapolitan, glutton free or any other strange-sounding names for ice cream. It just had three flavors – vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. But that was enough for us.

People ordered  at a small window, much too high for a small child to reach, trimmed in icy cool blue. Our father was a very tall man and we stood around his legs while he ordered for the family; and on a hot summer day it felt like the line would never end.

Some children would run, like all children do, around the beautiful white wrought iron tables and chairs, until someone would hand them their cones. Then they would sit in the princess style chairs. But, we never got to sit in them because we always walked to get our ice cream and then go back home. Dad often got three scoops – one vanilla, one chocolate, and one strawberry. That was the ultimate in cones.

Our cones were just one flavor, mostly vanilla. Mom and the older girls got 2 scoops, me and the twins got one scoop. I can hear Dad still saying as we walked back home “hurry up and lick those cones before they melt and Mom saying “don’t let that ice cream get on your clean clothes,” of course that was impossible.

I still close my eyes, lick my lips and have sweet memories.

 

 . . . . just saying,  Thank you Glenda!