It’s another gray day interfering with the start of spring.  I’ve taken a bit of flack recently for being negative, angry, and a real downer, so I took one of those ridiculous online quizzes, which said I was a pessimist.  I’d blame it on the weather, but I’m just back from 10 days of friends, sunshine and warm breezes, and one of the best massages I’ve ever had in my life, so I have no legitimate excuse to complain.  I wrote a rough draft about my air travel nightmares, but I’m determined to write about happy things.  I’ll complain about air travel next week.

Ok.  So.  Here I go.  Happy thoughts…happy thoughts…

Oh!  I know!  When I came home, my snow drops that disappeared for a month under mounds of dirty snow were visible and blooming.  Usually when the snow melts, they’re brown and dead, however there is still a pile of dirty ice off my deck, but…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…

March Madness, baby!  While I thought my team wasn’t going to do very well, they’ve made it to the Sweet 16 (Go Green!), which was really exciting, but it’s, like, a miracle, and it will be a real nail-biter when they play for the Elite 8, maybe, so, I guess I won’t get my hopes up, and I know I’ll have to flip the channel back and forth when the game gets close, but…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…

Crab cakes!  I’m having a crab cake tonight!  All during the ice and snow debacle that was February, 2015, when I was trapped in my home for two weeks by a lane full of ice, I craved crab cakes.  Of course, I’d rather have one of my crab cakes, but this restaurant makes a decent crab cake, although the crab isn’t from Maryland, and the price is through the roof, but…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…

National Puppy Day!  Yesterday was National Puppy Day, so I went through my photos of the BFF when she was a puppy.  What a doll she was!  And so smart!  She was housebroken quickly, unlike my sweet but dimwitted Pomeranians, and never chewed the furniture, like my sweet but perpetually bored Shelties, or gnawed the heels of my shoes, like my ungrateful Shih Tzu.  No, she didn’t.  But who knew that my sweet little puppy would grow up to swallow inanimate objects like paper towels, socks, gloves, and underwear and has had emergency surgeries for swallowing a needle and eating a corn cob (she did husk it quite neatly, first), which cost a fortune, even though I got a professional discount, so…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…

OMG!  Number One Reason to be Happy:  I FOUND MY MOTHER’S BIRTHDAY PRESENT!!!   Break out the Champagne!  If you read this blog last October, you’ll know that I lost My Mother’s birthday gift the very day that I was to give it to her.  I searched my house from top to bottom and couldn’t find it anywhere and gave her a lame gift card, instead…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…

So, when I arrived home from my vacation last week and was getting into bed at 2am because my flight was delayed…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…and knocked over my bedside table…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…and had to pick up my phone, my lamp, my flashlight, my security alarm and tv remote controls, assorted dirty Kleenexes (so the BFF wouldn’t eat them)…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…THERE IT WAS! On the floor, where I’d looked for months.  Where I’d vacuumed.  Where I’d restacked the books I haven’t read yet.  Where I’d reorganized my slippers and picked up countless pens, paper clips and coins and wads of dog hair and dead stink bugs.

WHY DIDN’T I SEE IT BEFORE?  Am I going blind?  Stupid?  Crazy?  Is this dementia? Five months!  It took five months to find something that was in plain sight.  Next to my head, every single time I slept in my bed.  Now, I’m worried that it might be too dirty (it still was wrapped in tissue in the original Talbot’s bag).  And it’s too late to return it.  And it’s too small for me.  Should I wash it before I give it to her?  Then it will look used.    Should I give it to her now?  Maybe for Easter?  (No, I’m making an Easter project for my family—ha, ha, ha—more blog fodder.)  Mother’s Day?

Now, I’m feeling anxious…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…Is there a troll under my bed playing with my mind?  Probably not…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…

The BFF is sleeping peacefully at my feet.  Did she eat something?  Is she sick?…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…The snow that was forecast for today hasn’t materialized.  Is it waiting to snow when I have to go out tonight?…happy thoughts…happy thoughts…There are buds on my camellia…um…um…I got nothin’ but happy thoughts…happy thoughts…

DATE UPDATE

In my new quest to be “cheerful and upbeat” (“No one wants to be around someone

negative,” an online dating “counsellor” wrote), I also changed my profile photo to an upbeat, smiling photo of me in a dark green shirt with “Michigan State Spartans” on it.  I figured it was good for March Madness, shows I’m up on sports (which I am, BTW).  I also changed my profile name from some letters and numbers to include part of my real first name, so that, when if when (happy thoughts!) men write to me, they have a name to which to address their emails.  You know, put a name with the face?

I also changed my profile, yet again.  Last month’s was a dreamy, kind of sweet thing.  Now, I’m more my real self, i.e., funny and, as one guy put it, irreverent.  It opens with

“I am really tired of scammers (I get 3-5 each day) and am waiting to hear from a serious man who will follow through with a conversation.”

The aging hippie, that I rejected last fall, wrote and questioned if I really get that many scammers each day.  Unfortunately, he “followed through” by emailing me two days in a row, asking how many scammers had contacted me so far that day.  I told him four the first day and six the next (both true).  That seems to have shut him up, thank goodness!

My profile now says

“I was actually stood up on a match.com date. Can you imagine?”

A guy wrote and said he would like to make up for that and described himself as having neglected himself over the years, which his profile photo confirmed, and wants someone to help him get back in shape.  Sorry.  I was already in a relationship with a work-in-progress for 42 years and won’t do it again.

Yesterday, I had another email from the private pilot who emailed me last fall and never followed up on his date offer.  Maybe my name and photo change confused him?  Naw. Turns out he’s a scammer, because he wrote the very same text that he wrote last fall (“I used to keep a plane in Fallston”), but with the profile photo of a woman and his profile name changed to reflect her gender.  His masculine name was signed at the bottom.  Of course, the guy is 72 and may be confused by his own identity.  He probably can’t find things next to his head either.  Two delusional people are not a match.

In the new profile, I also indicated that

“I learned to put on my coat by myself when I started kindergarten and still remember how to do it (at least, as of this writing)…I make the best Key Lime pie…I can snuggle by the fire with my sweet dog, but she’s a slobbery kisser and steals food off my plate.”

I didn’t mention that she also eats socks and underwear.

I end with

“My alternative is to gain 20 pounds, let my hair turn gray, sell my house, move into a retirement community, and drink myself senseless on all that fine wine in my cellar, a lifestyle which, quite frankly, scares me to death. For heaven’s sake, save me!”

I should have known better.  One guy wrote, “I’d like to meet you, but I’m not sure you need saving.”

Oh, well.   That means more Key Lime pie for me, so, who am I to complain?  Life is good (mostly).  Soli Deo Gloria!