The Cure for Cranky

I’ve been struggling with this New Year thing a bit and it’s something that makes me embarrassed. I’d love to say that I am one of those people who is open and embracing, grateful and joyous all the time, but the truth is, sometimes I’m not. The further truth is that sometimes—as in sometimes lately—I can be downright cranky. I’m not cranky with other people, mind you, but I am cranky with myself, I am cranky with the world in general, and I’m definitely cranky with the weather and the mud and the fact that I couldn’t find the right kinds of apricots the other night even though I went to two stores (grumpity grump grump).

This makes me feel even worse, because really what do I have to complain about? I have so much in my life—friends, family, a warm house, and food on my table. But this New Year found me in an odd place, my life stretched between two cities and changing as I speak. I do my best to keep steady, but it’s hard when the ground is shifting under your feet. It makes me feel bad that I can’t be sunshiny every day, but some days it just doesn’t happen and I guess I need to accept that; it’s silly to make myself even more cranky because I’m cranky, right?

So here I’ve been, fighting the fact that 2008 hasn’t found me all sunshiny and bright and not wanting to admit it—even to myself. And like a Christmas Scrooge, other people being all joyous and grateful has just made me even crankier. And I can’t write, because the cranky comes out on the page and that doesn’t do anyone any good. I was thinking of taking up kickboxing, as I seem to need a cranky outlet, but I can’t even do that because I tripped down the stairs at my brother’s house the day before New Year’s and twisted my ankle and it still hurts (see: cranky; also, self-pitying). As I said before, grump.

Then today came. I woke up tired, from staying up too late last night reading a book that had beautiful language but was depressing (one should never read depressing books when they are already cranky). And because it was the day we have our weekly playdate, I went to see my niece, the three-year-old who is growing taller and more like a beansprout every time I see her.

We made “smoothies,” in the new play kitchen that was a Christmas present. This consisted of putting plastic fruit in a plastic cup in combinations we liked (peach-plum, banana-pear, apple-lemon). We made a different smoothie for each family member or friend.



The little one was very conscientious about wiping up the “smoothie” we accidentally “spilled,” she’s good like that. I've never before seen a child who thinks that cleaning is a fun game. My sister-in-law is either very lucky or very, very clever.



Then she cut up some fruit for our "fruit salad" (she already knows that lemon makes almost everything better—she gets that from my side of the family).



Then—after our fruit salads had been eaten—we went to the conservatory of flowers where the little one was delighted to find a room filled entirely with pink flowers. As we walked home through the park, my niece ran ahead and said aloud, to no one in particular, “I’m happy!”

And so was I. No cranky in sight, nowhere.

* * *

Later in the day, I came across a post that also made me happy. Jen Maiser had posted a list of things she never tires of, an idea that started with Jen Lemen (who I now think is some kind of wondrous) and went through Chookooloonks (you must look at her exquisite photos) before coming to the lovely Jen. I adored reading the lists of what makes these people happy, it reminds me of the goodness and graciousness of life. It’s an awfully good antidote to cranky.

So here—more for me than for anyone else—is a reminder of what makes me happy. I’ve given myself an extra few, ‘cause I seem to need it these days.

HAPPINESS IS:

Time spent with my nieces
The scent of Meyer lemons fresh from the tree
Walks and talks with friends, when the conversation just flows
Sitting down to a cup of tea when I have nowhere I need to be and nothing I need to do
Farmers’ markets
The feeling when my mom strokes my hair, like all is right with the world
Cooking in the same kitchen with my brother
Reading a piece of writing that transports me
Chopping an onion in preparation for cooking something after a long day of work
The smell of freshly cooked plain rice, the cleanest, most wholesome smell in the world
Sleeping by the ocean or a river, listening to the sound of water in the night
Bike rides
Lilac bushes in full bloom; cherry blossoms viewed while lying below the blooming tree
Old grocery stores, hardware stores, and bookstores with creaky wooden floors
Talking with friends—new and old—around a campfire
Hiking to the top of a mountain
Salt
Waking up in the woods in a tent or cabin
Experiencing a different culture
Soup
Gardens, farms, nurseries—any place where things grow
The way the ocean makes me feel small
Boats
The feeling of family, belonging
Old houses with old windows, the way the glass goes all wavy with age
Being told other people’s stories, entrusted with their secrets
The scent of narcissus, especially the ones my mother brings me each year for my birthday
Cooking for people I care about, feeding friends and family
Long meals around a table with good conversation and laughter

Happy New Year, everyone. It’s taking me some time to warm up to it but I’m coming around to 2008. I hope the year brings you wondrous new things that make you happy.


The graphic is Linzie Hunter for Thumbtack Press. I think I'm going to get one for myself, as a reminder.