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On Little Thrills (and Pigeon Poop)

You know that quote "Some days you're the pigeon and some days you're the statue?"

Let me assume my best "thinking man" pose, because I am definitely the statue today this week.

Womp womp.
Truthfully it's not all that bad, but sometimes it's just fun to complain. A lot of factors outside of my control have converged into the perfect work-related storm this week, and right now it's raining white poop on my marbled head (ohh, mixed metaphors).

But these troubles are so, so small in the big, grand scheme of things, and I want to make room for the positive. So budge up, move along there, pigeons, and try to keep the eye rolls to a minimum as I do my best "Pollyanna" impersonation once again.

I am determined to be happy, in spite of my awful bangs.
Anyway.

Much as I love spectacular, blaze-of-glory moments -- graduations and weddings and other such life-changing events -- I hold a warm, cozy spot in my heart for those little gleams of happiness that appear, more or less, in our day to day lives. The big moments are so special because they are so seldom, but the small moments -- the little thrills -- are consistently there for the taking.

I'm learning that the more I pay attention to what's going on around me, the fuller that place in my heart I've reserve for little thrills becomes.

This morning, the sunrise crept up slowly against an inky sky. The clouds were streaky and the horizon was dappled -- isn't there magic in that word? -- with blushy pinks and fiery corals. Everything looked soft and misty. Kyle made me coffee, and we laughed a lot while we walked into work together. This morning was a gleam of happiness, and it's really kept my heart warm throughout the day.

Or perhaps that's just my arteries and valves and aortic chamber going into overdrive over my deadlines.

Happy Wednesday!