megfowler.com

I’m having one of those weeks where dealing with my health is like dealing with an overtired three year-old.

In other words? You can’t deal with it.

You just want to put it to bed where tears will ensue, and then? Sleep.

Ahhh, sleep.

Sleep would be awesome if sleeping was something I did with any facility, but you can bet I’d be far more skilled at the whole process if I were an overtired three year-old.

And that, my friends, is what we call talking in circles. Thank you. Now I’m dizzy.

But.

I’ve had to come up with things to do instead of sleeping that make life bearable when I’m tripping out on migraines, getting “haha! no baby for you, but how about THIS!” morning nausea, dealing with see-saw mood swings (which I can look at with eerie objectivity, even as I threaten the entire produce section with a loaded banana, weeping for my youth), and indulging in “magic internal sauna” hot flashes.

My current favourite coping mechanism is to focus on things that make me HAPPY. Not that I’m unhappy right now — mostly just mildly irked and impatient with myself and my body. But the more you focus on the things that make you happy, the more you realize just how much capacity for happiness you have and LO! Life is better.

I know what you’re thinking: “Meg, Pollyanna totally invented that. And Maria from Sound of Music.”

Yes, yes. I know. But we’re not going to talk blue satin sashes or chandelier crystals right now, people. That stuff is for nuns and little girls and I am neither (AM NOT! SHUT UP!)

We’re talking about this…

THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY JUST TO LOOK UPON THEM. WHICH IS DIFFERENT FROM THINGS I LOVE BECAUSE THINGS I LOVE DON’T ALWAYS MAKE ME HAPPY (HELLO MEN!) AND YES, THEY ARE PRIMARILY SHALLOW.

Mrs. John L. Strong Red Purse Cards.

This literally made me laugh until I cried at work. Especially the other passengers questioning him.

The Lipstick Mini Calla bouquet. here

This man’s extraordinary eye for style and personality in a photo.

The magical power this could have over my face.

This. Come ON NOW. My future husband is fully a Beaker/Paul Bettany/John Cusack/Jacques Pepin/Tom Brady hybrid (Don’t even try and imagine it, it will BLOW YOUR MIND.)

This mirror. I need a mirror. Not to look at myself in (gah!) but to reflect jolly light about my room.

The entire contents of this website.

I TOLD YOU I NEEDED ONE.

One day, mon cher. One day.

I used to be a camp director. I remain impossibly evil.

A vision of my distant future, as incited by my dear friend and torturer, Eric. He brought his into my home. I swear I found Martin weeping in a corner from insecurity. As much as an iBook can weep. It looks like he’s just sitting there not doing anything, but you can feel his hurt every time the little breathing light sighs.

This t-shirt.

Ahhh, happy.