Thrifty Summer.

Between the trip to New Orleans, and bouncing from one technical college to another (I got laid off and had to make a switch-a-roo), AND paying taxes, it hasn't been the most..wealthy summer of my life. I've been living check to check, and budgeting carefully. Yet, I've figured out a couple of good things about being broke.

One--the grocery store. I've had no choice but to hit it up. These are not the days for eating lavish lunches and dinners at restaurants and drinking top-shelf booze. Instead, I've been actually (drumroll, please) BAGGING my lunch for work. A typical lunch this summer? A turkey sandwich, chips 'n salsa, plus a piece of fruit. Very substantial, and very cheap.

Two--the public library. I've recently re-discovered how fab it truly is. There are a few books that I've been wanting to read, so I put them on hold, and lo! they're now available for me to pick up. Wayy less expensive than a trip to Barnes & Noble, right?! Tonight Stefan and I are having a cheap evening at home, watching movies that we scored down the street at the West Ashley branch. And, you you can never be sure who you'll run into at the library. Just the other day I had the joy of seeing the twin girls I used to nanny in graduate school at the Mt. Pleasant branch! Everyone loves the library, man. I even got a free bookmark.

So yeah, there are good things about pinching pennies. And summer is a great time to do it. Tomorrow, for example, I have plans to go to Folly Beach. Free admission, y'all.

Poem Cash?!

 I am astonished to report that today, three of my own poems actually made me a few bucks. The poetry site Strong Verse is generously putting up a few gems I wrote, namely "Loss," "The Old PC," and "Dryer." I'll keep everyone informed when they pop up on the site. (It's not a journal; it's a site that continually publishes work every few days.)

Totally exciting! So what should I do with my poem-money? It seems that money from a poem ought to be spent on something more noble and interesting than, say, a handbag. Should I invest in a felt beret? (ha.) Or perhaps purchase a book of verse by a little-known author? Maybe I should just buy a nice bottle of booze and share it with my other poet pals. After all, they help me foster my poet-ness. Hmm. Any other ideas?

Timeless Happiness.

ex·u·ber·ant

   /ɪgˈzubərənt/  Show Spelled

–adjective

1.

effusively and almost uninhibitedly enthusiastic; lavishly abundant: an exuberant welcome for the hero.

2.

abounding in vitality; extremely joyful and vigorous.

3.

extremely good; overflowing; plentiful: exuberant health.

-via dictionary.com

I've been thinking about the word exuberant today. I'm fortunate to know what it feels like to be exuberant, to just be ridiculously happy--in fact, there've been a few times when others have asked me "why I'm soo freakin' happy all the time." 

But as I get older (sigh), feeling thrilled-for-practically-no-reason gets a bit tougher. A little while ago, for example, I put on a song I like and started dancing around my bedroom. (I do this a lot.) As I danced, a strange thought popped into my head. I noticed that I wasn't happy enough inside to be dancing quite that enthusiastically on the outside. After all, I've danced before and felt like I was on the MOON! But it's not like I haven't had a decent day, I puzzled to myself. I've gotten work done at home, worked on laundry, blogged. 

What can I do, I wondered, to feel the kind of happiness I know I'm capable of? Is there a way to capture it at any time?

So far, the best solution I've discovered is going back to the time-tested tidbits that worked in childhood and basically throughout my life. For me, those include lying in my driveway and looking at trees and sky, eating cereal (my favorite food), calling best friends, listening to songs that carry emotional meaning, reading through old diaries and laughing, or, of course, spending time in Litchfield. 

Does this method work for everyone? Have you all tried it? I think that adult contentment is fine--clean laundry and checked-off lists--but I'd rather have that feeling I get when a caterpillar crawls across my pointer finger.