26 January 2009

Don't worry, be happy

The son: "Mom...? I have a sore throat."

And so the day begins.

I read the paper. Iceland's goverment has collapsed. Half the homes for sale in Orange County are "distressed." (Folks, that's the Orange County Register for you. I'm not entirely sure what it means either, but presumably, heading in the general direction of foreclosure.) More layoffs announced.

And so the day continues.

Then I check a blog for some happy (she fosters cats and has good stories about lots of things) and find out

Neil Gaiman has won the Newbery Medal for The Graveyard Book. And when I read his blog post on the matter, I cannot stop laughing. And when I read his Twitter stream on the same, I am in hysterics.

(I was given one New Year's Resolution by my children: not to say that word anymore. They have loudly kept count of each time they hear me say it--I think I'm up to 11 for the year, four of which were uttered in complete frustration when I had to modify the registries on both of their new computers Saturday after the driver for the optical disc drives was mysteriously corrupted. I suspect I have last week's Windows update to thank for that. At any rate, the kids believe that since I will not allow them to swear, my swearing should not be tolerated. I rather agree, but as I pointed out, when the Lord High Whomever of your company starts every telephone call with that word, it becomes an invisible part of one's vocabulary. Which, of course, is all the more reason I should not say it around them.)

Anyway, tremendous congratulations to Mr. Gaiman.

(I was trying to relate this story to the spouse, having to stop midstream and gasp for breath while I laughed, and he seemed a little perplexed as to why this gave me so much pleasure. Well, in part because joy is contagious, and with bad news endemic, it's so nice to see some really happy news. In part, because the Newbery is a big deal--unlike, say, the Grammys, which carry little weight in terms of actual quality. I make a point of buying Newbery books; I don't think I've ever bought music because it won a Grammy. Mostly, though, I think, because I try to get everyone who will listen to me to read all things Gaiman--sort of like I put Rush on the stereo for parties and in the car.)

Now that the world has offered me a reason to smile again, I need to go address the mischievous streak that has resurfaced.

Plotting, I am.

Go listen to some music: "Don't Worry, Be Happy" from the album Simple Pleasures by Bobby McFerrin. At one point, I think it was when the Soviet scientists were visiting us, though possibly when we were visiting them, one of them kept repeating this line. Though I don't really care for the song, I think back on BI intoning this in his Russian accent, and dear god, it just fits the day. Especially since I just got word that one of my credit cards has been compromised. *sigh*

No comments: