When Mr. E was growing up with his nine million brothers and sisters, occasionally one of the little bastards would do something not so awesome or say something rude to their mom or whine about having to actually put pants on and his mom would probably want to kill them nine times out of ten but instead of that and because she’s the soul of patience and an awesome mom, she would just say “That’s not a positive.”

And I really like it. It’s a surprisingly effective reminder to quit being such a shit. It doesn’t make me defensive like most other personal corrections from people and it doesn’t make me want to stab Mr. E in the eyeballs when he says it to me and it just kind of gets me back on track. Plus I get to say it to him on those rare occasions when he is less than a cheerful sunflower of happiness and that makes it totally worth it. Try it, you might like it.


Right now I am not feeling the positive. I am feeling grim and grumpy. Sour. Small minded. Jealous. Crabby. Run down, cooped up, burnt out. All of those things. I need a dose of away time and a shot in the arm of the movies alone by myself except for popcorn and junior mints and George Clooney and circumstances being what they are unfortunately I don’t see those things occurring in my immediate future.

But today I am going to triumph over the dark forces of negativity anyway and I’m going to do that by reminding myself of all the positive shit that’s going on right now and dammit! I am going to be happy. I can be emotionally exhausted and physically drained and still be happy, right?

Because after all. The Boston Red Sox won the World Series. I swear my new Philosophy Hope in a Tube is making my eyelashes craaazy long. And this afternoon I’m taking my boys to the pumpkin patch and I’m pretty sure it’s physically impossible to be crabby at the pumpkin patch. Although I do have to admit that every year I silently apologize to all the pumpkins I don’t take home. I am just that kind of crazy.

Anyhoo. We’re going to eat pizza at one of those pizza places with the salad bar where they mostly just have cottage cheese and beets and beans and ranch dressing and I know it’s terrible but I do so love those salad bars. Any my mouse is a COMPLETE piece of shit and has erased this entry three times, but really that’s actually for the good because I think each of these versions has been better than the last and now this is practically Pulitzer Prize winning, I think we can all agree on that. And in the time it’s taken me to rewrite this masterpiece three fucking times, miracle of all miracles, Eli fell asleep, exhausted by his valiant efforts to break the barriers of sound and time with screaming. When he wakes up we’re going to go on a walk to buy a new mouse and then we’re going to pound the shit out of the old one in the driveway with baseball bats, Office Space style, and I would imagine that will be fairly satisfying.

And then tonight I’ll carve the same old-school smiling pumpkin that I have carved every year for as long as I can remember carving pumpkins and the Portland Trailblazers season opener is on TV and PBS is showing a documentary about unlikely marathoners triumphing over adversity and who doesn’t love a good celebration of the human spirit combined with a PBS voice over? And there’s a fun size Snickers bar waiting for me in the freezer and Eli is wearing the cutest most ridiculous baby hipster Jim Morrison t shirt right now and these things make me happy, yes they do.



2 Responses

  1. Pizza! Drool!

    Also, next time your mouse goes bat-shit on you, hit ctrl-z and it should recover whatever has last been deleted. But still beat the hell out of the mouse you have no. If not for the mouse, for you.

  2. Let me know when you’re out in the driveway and I’ll blast the soundtrack to go along with the beating…

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