Today so far

This morning, here's what made me smile:

On the radio: "It is Friday. That's when we bust out the Tom Jones."

From the corner of my eye, I saw what I thought was a zebra on my morning commute. Atlanta has a history of zebras, so while surprising, this wouldn't have been unusual -- well, less unusual than a mountain lion. Turns out it was a Hummer painted like a zebra. Which was still pretty great.

And then, a middle-aged man riding a bicycle with a basket, wearing a reflective crossing-guard vest.

(As an added bonus, there was also a man on the sidewalk in a bright pink leg cast. I felt a little bit bad for the cast itself, but love that he chose bright pink.)

Memories

It's Nov. 1, which means everyone who didn't want to keep their Halloween candy has kindly brought it into the office for the rest of us to eat.

This is a strange leap, perhaps, from Halloween, but the candy on the table -- a lone packet of SweeTarts, in the midst of Tootsie Rolls and Tootsie Pops -- has made me nostalgic. In fact, I always get nostalgic when I eat SweeTarts.

When I was in high school, one of my best friends would always buy a long roll of the sugary, colorful candy. They would get passed around orchestra, and we'd put down our bows to pop SweeTarts onto our stands and into our mouths. I don't know that it was ever codified that SweeTarts would arrive on a daily basis in orchestra, but they always did -- even on concert nights, when we were all dressed in skirts and suit pants, and we needed to be much more subtle as we passed the candy around.

I always liked SweeTarts.

I stopped eating them, though, my sophomore year of high school. My friend -- his name is Josh -- was diagnosed with cancer. He died that same week.

I know this is a blog about things that make me smile, and that doesn't sound like something very happy at all. And it isn't. But here's what is: whenever I see SweeTarts I think of Josh. I have to eat them in his memory. I smile as I reminisce about him passing them around orchestra. The candy makes me think of throwing snowballs at stop signs while we waited for the bus, or of movie nights in his basement. It makes me recall his big smile and his infectious laugh and the first time someone called me and launched into conversation without first identifying who was talking. SweeTarts were hard for me to eat for a long time. But now they bring back good memories.

So I'm sitting at my desk, popping SweeTarts, and thinking of Josh. And the fact that so many years later, this little candy can bring back such vivid memories of a person who meant so much to me really does make me smile.

Saturday

Here are some things that are made of awesome

Right now, I am eating a Honeycrisp apple.

My father was quoted on the front page of the newspaper, above the fold.

My sister scored a White House press pass and took photos of the president.

I saw people juggling fire on a church lawn.

And Jens Lekman puts on a really good show. (I like this song a lot.)

Reading time

When I checked my email today, I was temporarily taken aback by a note with the subject "Library Notice." I have a sordid history with library notices and, I thought, I'd been particularly careful to return my books on time. So I was concerned that I'd missed one, and would now have to pay exorbitant fines.

Imagine my relief when the library notice instead was sent to inform me that a book I'd requested -- and didn't expect for another month or more (the waiting list is SO LONG!) -- arrived at my local branch!

So now I get to learn what's next for Katniss and the gang. And while I didn't love the first book as much as a lot of other people seem to have loved it, I am looking forward to seeing how the adventure continues.

Drunken Stool Making

There is so much happiness in my life at the moment.  I am visiting with my sister in Takoma Park, MD, and Sister Love is always a good thing!

Last night, however, was the joy of joys that only a sibling can bring.  My sister and I have a tradition of drinking heavily and watching bad romantic comedies/teen romance movies when we visit.  Last night was no exception!

The best part of the night was in the conversation that follows.

Chrys: Do you have any tools?  I want to put together your stools...
Lauren: Oh!  Yeah! I was planning on putting those together once I got drunk!


My Family is special.
My life is happiness.

Maybe?

This morning, the so-called song of summer (maybe) came on the radio on my way into work. Unless you've been under a rock, you've heard Call Me Maybe pretty much everywhere.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I kind of love this song. But the real reason I love it is this dramatic reading of the song, which I must have listened to at least a half-dozen times.

It still makes me grin so big.

Also! This exists! I haven't listened yet, but I'm way excited about the mix.

Poetry

So, I know the newest U.S. Poet Laureate.

And that's kind of cool.

Also, I'm nerdily excited to tell you that I'm now the proud owner of a library card to the Library of Congress (which is where said poet laureate will set up shop come January). In case you were wondering, despite requiring a photo and a signature, it is not an official government ID.

Playing the blues

On my flight back to Atlanta last weekend, the pilot played harmonica over the loudspeaker while telling us how long we'd be in the air, and how many miles we would traverse.

He was actually pretty good.

Next week

Y'all, it's nearly spelling bee time. And as you know, I really like spelling bees. A lot.

So you can imagine how excited I am to go this year.

Watch the bee! Maybe you'll see me.

On the road

Three vehicles worth noting:

• An open-backed truck, like the ones people use for landscaping equipment, stuffed with helium tanks of various sizes;
• At a construction site near my office, a truck that says WATER TRUCK and underneath it, in smaller letter, NON POTABLE WATER;
• A truck with a trailer full of donkeys (the sides were down, so I could see the donkeys) with what looked to be a handmade, carved bumper decoration that said, "HAULING ASS."

Ode to a Pear

O, pear you are
juicy and awkward, requiring me
to slurp you up
before I chew. I eat you with
a pile of paper towels,
soaked through. Your bulbous bottom
bumps my lip, your tiny stem
evades my grasp, your subtle core
hides beneath pearflesh, a sad surprise
when I bite seeking more fruit and find, instead,
something new. I eat you and think
of Jelly Belly candies, of summer days, of
my mother, who loves the flavors you
imbue. I will not bake you. You are
a fruit to be devoured raw, dripping, sticky,
sweet. O, pear, you may frustrate my desires
to elegantly consume, but pear?
I savor you.

A thousand kinds of awesome

I discovered this blog today, about a month after it ended. It's a similar idea to our little Internet-place, though certainly that one was much more disciplined in the author's daily postings, much more universal in its aim and much more widely read. It even spawned books!

But I'm cool with all that (for so many reasons!). Because now that I've found it, I can link you to 1,000 other reasons to smile.

I've only read three or four so far, but I love the combination of seriousness and whimsy. And the fact that so many of them mention farting.

Smiles all around

I have a big grin on my face for two reasons.

The first is that even though I talk to executives and important people with a kind of regularity, there are still some whom I get excited about. Particularly when they're chatty and friendly and generally jovial. I just got off the phone with one such CEO.

I e-mailed a friend of mine to tell him that the conversation made me think of him, and the response I got made my smile even bigger:

Your email made me smile :)  (well, YOU make me smile, but I settle for email from you when I have to).

He's far too far away (despite efforts to move him closer), so we have to settle for email more often than I would like. But I'm just so glad that we've been able to stay (close!) friends despite the distance, and I'm glad that my grins are contagious.

New friends

My grandfather's a pretty tech-savvy dude. He knew what Skype was before the rest of us did, and was sending me text-to-voicemail messages before I even knew it was possible. I still don't know how to do it.

But he never thought there was any reason to join Facebook, calling it a waste of time.

This weekend, I got a friend request from my grandfather -- who turns 90 this summer. I haven't talked to him yet to find out what changed his mind, but there's something so wonderful about seeing a 1922 birthday on a profile page. So I had to share.

I can only hope when I'm going-on-90, I'm as on top of the latest technology and happenings and whatnot as he is. Wicked cool.

Coffee in Brazil

I have a Fancy New Car -- who has yet to be named -- after Webster valiantly protected me from a collision several months ago.

This new car has many cool things going for it, one of which is satellite radio. Another is BlueTooth. Now normally, I'm not someone who gets all excited about car radios or hands-free technology, or even technology at all, but this morning -- while I was calculating how long it would be until the free satellite radio ran out and I would once again be denied Big Band tunes and commercial-free commutes -- I had an epiphany.

At traffic lights, I fiddled with my phone and with my radio. And right as I got to work, I discovered this: I am able to stream my favorite radio station through my phone and listen to it through my speakers, despite the fact that I'm three states away.

I only got to hear two songs this morning, but they were coffee-themed and adorable. And so I went into work this morning grinning, and humming about coffee in Brazil.

Take a gander

On my way home from work yesterday, I saw two geese. Crossing the street. In a crosswalk.

The first one to get to the curb nibbled on some grass before hopping up and out of the way.

It was predictably adorable.

Also? There's a swath of road on my way home that smells amazing. I don't know what kind of flowers or trees or naturey goodness is planted there, but it's delicious and immersive. So I always make sure to go by with my windows down.

First world problem

I was expecting nice, sunny, warm weather while in Zurich. Instead, it's cold and rainy. Rain can ruin fun. It can ruin plans. Plans like going hiking on a glacier.

I might have to go to Paris for 3 days instead of staying in Switzerland because the weather in Paris is (allegedly) lovely right now, and will be for the next week or so.

Darn.

(Aside: the trip to Paris would be with the boyfriend, and we'd be there on our one year anniversary. Awwwwww.)

Afterlife

It's a sad start to a happy story, but in this column, a Toronto Star reporter met Shelagh Gordon at her funeral. The columnist describes Shelagh's as an ordinary, magical life -- and I think her description is apt.

The writing itself is straightforward and lovely, but it's the person who Shelagh was that is most extraordinary. Because -- pardon me for being philosophical -- it's the person who all of us are. She didn't invent anything extraordinary; she didn't save the world. She just made a difference to a lot of other ordinary people.

And it's the project itself that put a smile on my face. The Toronto Star sent reporters to Shelagh's funeral, and interviewed more than 100 of her friends and family members about her life.

It's ambitious, and difficult, and it could have gone a lot of different ways. But the story it tells is a strong one. It's how Shelagh will live on for her family, for her friends.

There are a lot of thoughts rattling around in my brain about the idea of meeting someone four days too late (as the columnist describes it), or the joy and sorrow of writing about someone after they've died. But I'll leave them to rattle and instead encourage you to read this lovely profile and be your own "good deed doer... tradition keeper... moral compass," or whatever it is you are. And thanks to all of you for the smiles you give.

On pollen

It's pollen season.

If you haven't spent any amount of time in the South, this probably doesn't mean much to you. If you have, you understand that this is a strange thing to make me smile.

But it does, in part -- in large part -- because this pollen season has been worse than any other. The pollen has hit record levels. The pollen is falling from the sky. The pollen isn't just covering cars in a film, it's covering everything in a thick, impenetrable blanket.

And it reminds me of snow.

I'm lucky in that it doesn't make me sneeze and itch and want to be indoors (knock on wood). So I can marvel at the way the wind moves the pollen on the ground, and smile at way it comes down in clouds and feel like I have some semblance of winter, even though it's in the 70s, and no one got any winter to speak of.

Love is in the air

Aside from getting to hang out with an old friend I don't get to spend nearly enough time with since she moved away, this is what made me happiest this Valentine's Day.

They're just so wonderful.

Love to all of you!

Compliments

I worked on a breaking news story yesterday that was unlike what I usually cover, and ended up being on the front page of today's paper. (Woohoo!) That's fun in and of itself -- it's always nice to make A1 -- but the coolest part was when one of the editors came by today to praise the authority with which I wrote and tell me the story worked perfectly for the front. And we have some exacting standards.

On top of that, my immediate editor told me last night that my batting average has been great -- that I come up with good ideas and write interesting things. And that, too, is nice to hear.

And while it's not a compliment per se, I received a really interesting opportunity that I'm taking as one. It's wicked cool. Y'all'll surely hear more about it if it comes to fruition. But for now, I'll just tell you that it made me smile.

Shuffle

Sometimes, it's the smallest, silliest things.

The weather was pleasant this morning, in the high 50s with sun and clouds. And I had my iPod on on the way to work when Elmo's Song followed Annie Lennox. Do you know Elmo's Song? It's sweet and catchy and fun. It's Sesame Street. It just makes you smile. Well, it makes me smile.

That's enough, in and of itself. But then? The coup de grace? A few songs later, what came up but the theme song to Transformers!

As my college roommate (hi!) can tell you, the Transformers theme song is the one that always managed to play (somehow, the randomizer on my music-playing program really, really liked the Transformers) and always managed to play at the most inappropriate times. So it took everything I had not to burst out laughing and/or sing along. (I was on public transportation at the time.)

The book I just finished referenced Optimus Prime toward the end. I wonder if through some kind of music-shuffle-magic the iPod knew and thought, finally, that it was an appropriate time for Transformers.

On foot

I haven't had a car for a couple weeks now, and while it's been frustrating in its own way, there's also some good that's come of it. Namely, by taking public transportation to work, I've had more time to read. I think I've gotten through five or six books so far in January; that's much faster than my normal weekday pace.

It's not the first time I've used public transportation instead of my car, but it's the first time I've done it not by choice -- and the first time for any extended period in Atlanta. Sure, MARTA leaves much to be desired route-wise and otherwise, but I have to admit that I feel a little better about myself for walking to the station and walking to work and maneuvering the lines to still go out on occasion.

Also, taking the train provides me with many more opportunities to get hit on by guys with bottles in paper bags. And those always make for good stories.