Fun Meters!

So, the spouse has been absent a while and the fun meter is pegged out to the left. You may hate to hear this, but only you can change that. I’ll put it very simply. Every day, just choose to be happy, opt to have fun. It may sound ridiculous, but you are in control of your thoughts (at least on your more lucid days… ;-)) and choosing to enjoy your day, even though your beloved is on the other side of the planet, is a very potent move to make.

I have rediscovered a book I read a number of years ago. It’s called “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff…and it’s all small stuff” written by Richard Carlson, Ph.D. It’s filled with two and three page chapters, not unlike a blog, really, that contain little nuggets of wisdom. I’m finding them newly applicable as I face another stretch of months alone. Chapter 69 is entitled “Be Happy Where You Are.” He means that we should attempt to peg out the fun meter wherever and whenever we are in our lives. Many of us fall prey to the idea: “…that we keep convincing ourselves, ‘Someday, I’ll be happy’.” Our problem is that we put off happiness indefinitely. Why not start now? It’s important even when you’re not with your honey, maybe, especially when you’re not with your honey. Remember, no one is responsible for your fun meter…except you. Get ready to peg it out, everyone! Besides, resting the responsibility for your happiness on anyone else means you might be wussing out. Don’t wuss out, people! Choose happiness. Don’t make your main squeeze responsible for that.

So, how can you accomplish this during a deployment? Do what you love. If you love running marathons, well, you’re masochistic, but that’s okay, so am I. Anyway, if you do enjoy competing in races, take the time that you would otherwise be rubbing your love-bunny’s feet and use it to get back in shape. Get outside, enjoy the weather, and run till you barf! Yay! Marathons! Can you tell I’m a fan? Well, really, I’m a fan of the end, when it’s all over. That moment when you can no longer taste your own heartbeat. I love the free pasta dinner, the camaraderie, the blisters and sunburns. No, really, it’s nice to have a goal, set out to accomplish it, and survive to see another sunrise once the race is done. I can’t say that the Air Force marathon completely pegged out my fun meter, but at least I got the needle to wiggle around a little bit.

If running/race-walking/hacking up a lung isn’t your thing, how about learning something new while your love bug is off saving the world? While I was with Pat and Dani in Tampa, they very kindly took me to their favorite cooking school. (Well, they have eaten my cuisine in the past, and they know that my hubby is the chef in the family. They’re just trying to make sure I don’t starve to death between now and the return of my favorite home-cook.) It was bread-baking day. The chef who taught the class was very nice. I’m not sure her fun meter registered with a “whoop!” when she figured out that more than a few of her ten students couldn’t really even boil water. Ahem…for the record, I can boil it, I just don’t always do anything spectacular with it after that! And, really, is this about her fun meter anyway? No! It’s about mine!!

She presented us with three different recipes and all kinds of fancy-schmancy whiz-cookery things to use in three hours. Yes, I’m sure that is the technical name for all of the gadgets we used to make sure the water was the right temperature, to make sure the bread didn’t stick to the pans, etc. The one thing I recognized was the wine glass. I liked that part. :-) I really did try to listen and remember the process so that I could go home and wow the cats with catnip bread-sticks, but I’m not sure I’d be allowed to leave a pastry school outside of a body bag once my French focaccia bread is taste-tested by the experts. And, by experts I mean anybody with a modicum of taste buds. Most of the students’ bread turned out really well. We could add caramelized onions, rosemary, Kalamata olives, or parmesan cheese. I opted for simple and cheesy, (kind of like me) and the chef even tried to help me form the bread into a nice leaf shape. She was very kind once it was baked and didn’t even hint that it looked like…well, a toilet seat. Wow! My fun meter is bouncing all over the place. My friends were nice about my cheesy commode topper, they didn’t once snort wine out their noses when they looked at it. That’s the mark of true friends, people!!



We were all asked what we learned at the class as we polished off our bread and I think what I learned is I’ll keep buying my bread, fancy or otherwise, at the grocery store. But, hey! I learned something! And, truly, I did have fun.

So, get back out there! Learn new things! And, write me once in a while to let me know how your fun meter’s looking! I’m sure the dude who wrote the “Small Stuff” book would be intrigued with our choices.

Peace, love, and focaccia toilet seats!