Joy @ MindSay

"Wherever you go in life, whoever you marry, whatever you do - your house is definitely going to be filled with laughter." -lilr

So, as I tend to do on Saturday nights after church, I gave lilr a call to see about hanging out that night. She said, "Sure, wanna help me make pasta?" I said, "Sure, I need to get gas first - do you want me to pick up some bread or anything?" She said, "No, we have bread. Just come over." "Okay."

See, somehow, I forgot who I'm talking to with this one. If anybody else said, "wanna help make pasta," we're thinking it's spaghetti night, and the boys will come over later*, and we'll all have supper. Nope. See, lilr is the greatest minimalist I know personally. She's very much a 'use all parts of the buffalo' kinda girl, and whatever she really can't use, she gets rid of. She's also a crazy-quiet perfectionist. But somehow, this combination means that she'll make just about anything, food-wise, from scratch.

_{*Okay, this'd be back when I had a boyfriend. Lilr is married, but her husband's been pulling late shifts on Saturdays. Which gives us a chance to be even sillier.}

And it turned out that she'd found a pasta-maker the last time she was at one of our preferred thrift stores. Cool idea, she has recipes already. And she'd been hoping that I'd come over, and we could figure this out together, and take turns watching Schmoo, lilr's tiny son.

Schmoo is largely unimpressed with me. Lilr calls me his aunt, and tries to encourage him to like me. There's no active dislike; he's just not all that interested where I'm concerned. I suspect that this is largely because I'm not lactating at the moment.

What can be said of the pasta making? "Fail," comes to mind. But, since it's us, a highly entertaining fail. I don't believe that there's ever been a time when the two of us were together and no fun was had. She'd already prepped the dough before I arrived, and I was rolling it out. We inspected this later, and I decided, "Less enthusiasm, more flour." Pasta dough is not like cookie dough, and was apparently making plans involving chemical bonding with the countertop.

Somehow, whilst separating said bond on one of the four, it came out looking like a pasty, wrinkled, halter-cut prom dress. Or, possibly a Schmoo-sized cape. The Adventures of Pasta-Man! took up the next twenty minutes, mixed with much laughter. We've figured out his powers and his domain, but we're really stumped as to who Pasta-Man would have as a nemesis. I suggested possibly Mr. Atkins, but neither of us really stomped on that one.

If you haven't seen a pasta-maker (and this was one of the little old-school ones), it's basically the same idea as the Play-Doh pushers we all used as kids. For some curious reason, this one's left-handed. You can put it on the right-hand side, but you won't be able to vice-clamp it to the counter. So, left hand it is. Actually started to feel the burn in my deltoid and left bicep after a bit, which made us laugh. Pasta workout! It's the anti-Atkins - you burn to make your carbs!

The problem was that after the noodles came out, they all stuck together, so you had to separate them, which was time-consuming, and somewhat unsuccessful. We managed to make about forty-eight noodles before concluding that, given time and energy, this was one case where it was indeed a better plan to buy a box of spaghetti from the store. Sigh. But wait, this left us with over half the pasta dough left!

(I don't know why, but I now feel obligated to recount a day five or six years ago, when the snow was melting in spring. Lilr, in those days, was driving a car that we had elegantly christened, "Butt," as in, "Haul butt across town." The delightful bit about living in a state where snow builds up all winter and doesn't actually thaw until, oh, say, early spring, is that, when it does melt, everything floods. Lilr and I had gotten out of school, met up, and gone driving, because I knew of a place, from biking around, where on Flood Day there might be a large puddle. Or, in this case, it turned out, a rather epic puddle. A puddle larger than the average parking space. Taking up the whole road. Upon seeing this, we drove carefully up to it, and were looking at it. "Whoa." "Yeah."

At the same time, we both decided that we needed to haul Butt through this as fast as possible. Well, we didn't have a whole lot of room to build up momentum, so it was decided that we needed to go around the block again. Fantastic! Great wings of muddy water shot up on both sides, the puddle lapping over the gutter-banks on either side, Butt absolutely soaked down, froth left in our wake. Let's do it again!

We went around the block eight times, accelerating, until the ninth time, when the Sheriff's car was sitting next to the puddle, and the Sheriff standing on the side of the hill, looking down at the filthy runoff in the grass. We quietly crept through, and went off to find other adventures.

The only real moral of that story, for the two of us, was that it's a good thing she's a minimalist, because whenever we have extra resources and no clear plan for what to do with them, silliness ensues.)

Well, I reasoned, we could just bake it and have pasta bread. Oh, better idea - Pasta Biscuits! I explained this to lilr. You take extra dough, and roll it flat. Get a cup or something round, and make little cutouts. Grease a cookie sheet, arrange them about an inch apart, pop 'em in the oven at 350, and see what happens!

She'd followed along with that, right up until that, "See what happens," bit. Badname, my other close friend from high school, was often my mentor (a notion I now find somewhat disturbing). He has what he refers to as, "The gift of BS." And apparently, he taught it to me without meaning to. I don't realize I'm doing it, but, with the exception of K, I can make almost any harebrained idea sound not only plausible, but as though people regularly do this. I wasn't trying, I was actually just thinking out loud on how this might work.

Lilr pointed out that said pasta biscuits wouldn't rise - there's no yeast in pasta dough. I answered her that they would simply be unleavened pasta cookies, which were what the Italians ate the night before they fled from Egypt. Further giggles. Lilr and her husband teach Sunday School (they're Mormon, I'm Christian), and I teach campers, so we started making up new lessons, on what the Old Testament would be like with different people groups standing in for the Israelites.

In case anyone was wondering, the Scots did not blow horns for the six days of marching around Jericho, they blew bagpipes. And the walls fell because the people of Jericho detonated them from the inside, preferring death (because God told them to destroy the city, take no prisoners) to one more day of bagpipes.

So, we rolled out the dough, used the mini toaster-oven (I want one of these. And an air popcorn popper. When I get my own apartment, they will be my housewarming gifts to me...if nobody else gets them first.), used an itty-bitty cup to make cutouts (tasty pop-in-your-mouth size cutouts), and arranged them on the cookie sheet.

While we're waiting for these to bake, lilr and I started talking about the plans for me next year. They involve moving out-of-state for awhile, and it's going to be some of Schmoo's swift developmental years. I commented to her, watching him wrestle with his blanket on the floor, "Y'know, the real thing Schmoo's going to remember about me is that whenever I came over, Mom and Mom's friend were loud and just laughed a lot more."

And she stunned me. She said, "Actually, we don't laugh when you're not around." And she was serious. I was absolutely dumbfounded. I have more fun with lilr than almost anybody I know. I knew her husband liked me coming around because she's not terribly social, but I didn't know that she didn't really laugh. And later, she talked about having a day when she smiled this week - like a whole day, or days at a time, could go by without her smiling.

I had no idea about this, and I've known her since we were fourteen. We're always laughing at my house, my sisters, parents, and I. Sure, we disagree and scrap sometimes, but there's so much silliness, and joy, and just a lot of love that turns into laughter. And she and her husband are happy together, and really, they don't fight the way my sisters and I sometimes will. But, to not laugh? To have whole days where you don't smile?

How?

And how did I not know about this?

More silliness came later. It turns out that pasta cookies are bland by themselves, taste okay with honey, pretty good with peanut butter and honey, and fantabulous with peanut butter. It turns out that if I wear an apron to protect my clothes, every spill I get on myself will be below the knee. Especially melted peanut butter. Sigh, but yum. We played with Schmoo, me making faces in response to his faces (he's at the stage where he's exploring what his expression-muscles can do), which makes lilr giggle. Hearing her laugh always sets me off - it will frequently happent that she starts laughing, and then I do too and have to ask her what we're laughing about. She's such a sweet person; all of her joy is infectious.

I started thinking about it on my way home. I laugh because there's a lot of joy in the world. I also laugh when things are messed up - like, the worse a situation is, the more I'll be trying to find some part of it that I can share with someone and laugh about. I'll sometimes just laugh because I'm really happy, like running in the rain - not because something's funny, but because there's so much joy that I've gotta do something to let it out. And I knew that my family laughed a lot - but I didn't know that there were other families that barely laughed at all. It seems such a lonely concept.

They've been thinking about taking in a boarder, and she said that if I wasn't leaving in six months, I'd be the person they wanted. Then, I knew that lilr and I had fun together, and her husband knew that I respected them both and had what they think of as good values and solid morals. All excellent reasons to want your friend to be the boarder you're looking for. I didn't know that this was part of it - that to her, I'm the one who brings laughter in.

Ironically, I feel kind of sad now.

On September 25, 2009, Conversations with American Heroes at the Watering Hole will feature a conversation with Sharon Knutson-Felix has served as Executive Director of the 100 Club of Arizona.

Program Date: September 25, 2009
Program Time: 2100 hours, Pacific
Topic: Joy after Tragedy
Listen Live:
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/LawEnforcement/2009/09/26/Joy-after-Tragedy

About the Guest
Sharon Knutson-Felix has served as Executive Director of the 100 Club of Arizona since 2001 but her first experience with the 100 Club came several years before, in 1998, when Sharon’s husband, DPS Officer Doug Knutson, was tragically killed in the line of duty. She received a check from an amazing organization that’s mission was to support the families of public safety in times of tragedy, which she found out was the 100 Club of Arizona. Having been a recipient, Sharon truly understands what the 100 Club’s benefits, both financial and emotional, mean to a public safety family in a time of crisis. She has become a passionate advocate of the 100 Club since becoming its Executive Director and has been instrumental in its recent growth.

Sharon’s experience in dealing with public safety and her commitment to supporting its men and women position her as the ideal leader for this public safety non-profit. Since being elected as the Executive Director, Sharon has led the organization to create and launch six new benefits and programs, including the non-line of duty death benefit and the safety enhancement stipend program which provides equipment to public safety agencies in an effort to prevent or minimize tragedy. Yearly benefits given out have increased from $100,000 in 2001 to over $800,000 in 2008. Membership has more than doubled and corporate sponsorships have increased phenomenally, including securing the largest corporate sponsorships in the history of the 100 Club.

Before coming to the 100 Club of Arizona , Sharon served two years as President of Arizona Concerns of Police Survivors (COPS) which provides resources to help families of law enforcement officers who have been killed in the line of duty rebuild their lives. She has also served, and continues to serve, in many community support groups. For the past nine years, Sharon has been a part of the Arizona Critical Incident Stress Management Team (CISM), a group that provides emotional support for public safety officers (and their families) who have been injured in the line of duty so that they may continue to serve their community in a law enforcement capacity. She has also been a part of her church support group, Soulcare Ministry, for the past four years that provides a system of peer support for people in the community dealing with difficult issues and tough life decisions.

Knutson-Felix is also the author of the successful book, Gifts My Father Gave Me: Finding Joy after Tragedy that is part memoir and part grief advisor. Sharon is also a sought after speaker and grief counselor. She is the wife of DPS Executive Officer David Felix, the loving mother of two children, and grandmother of five grandkids.

About the Watering Hole
The Watering Hole is Police slang for a location cops go off-duty to blow off steam and talk about work and life. Sometimes funny; sometimes serious; but, always interesting.

About the Host
Lieutenant Raymond E. Foster was a sworn member of the Los Angeles Police Department for 24 years. He retired in 2003 at the rank of Lieutenant. He holds a bachelor’s from the Union Institute and University in Criminal Justice Management and a Master’s Degree in Public Financial Management from California State University, Fullerton; and, has completed his doctoral course work. Raymond E. Foster has been a part-time lecturer at California State University, Fullerton and Fresno; and is currently a Criminal Justice Department chair, faculty advisor and lecturer with the Union Institute and University. He has experience teaching upper division courses in Law Enforcement, public policy, Public Safety Technology and leadership. Raymond is an experienced author who has published numerous articles in a wide range of venues including magazines such as Government Technology, Mobile Government, Airborne Law Enforcement Magazine, and Police One. He has appeared on the History Channel and radio programs in the United States and Europe as subject matter expert in technological applications in Law Enforcement.

Listen, call, join us at the Watering Hole:
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/LawEnforcement/2009/09/26/Joy-after-Tragedy

Program Contact Information
Lieutenant Raymond E. Foster, LAPD (ret.), MPA
editor@police-writers.com
909.599.7530

The fact is, we are all trying to be happy. Everyday, in small ways and large ways, whether we are conscious of it or not, we are consistently in the pursuit of happiness — or at least the ingredients of it. We do things, say things that bring us a little closer to our pet fixation — though sometimes the opposite happens and your efforts only seem too futile. It doesn’t stop you from trying, even if you have to start all over again. So why is it that we also spend plenty of energy trying to hide our happiness from a lot of people? Are we simply superstitious, or is it true about the evil eye? The notion that flaunting it is a sure way to lose it; because there are always people who want your piece of sunshine for themselves and have no scruples about ruining everything just as long as nobody gets ahead of them. Someone has some very good news — a car, a job, usually a man, but she would rather keep it to herself until the secret just kind of slips out on its own, which is what happens in the circumstance of a “secret pregnancy”. She might tell a select few — with strict instructions “not to tell”. Of course that is like telling the wind not to blow, because in record time, whispers of “the secret” are doing the rounds. “Did you hear about whoever? Imagine she is dating her boss.” “No way! That fake man?” “Is he fake?” “Yeah! He is the one who was sacked for theft last year, and then formed his own company. And he drinks too much. Moreover, he has another woman already!” “Really! She didn’t tell me that. No wonder she didn’t want to tell me about him.” “You know that chick, she is such a liar.” “Yeah! She said they were getting married this year, but I don’t think so. And why marry a thief? How desperate can you be?” They laugh loud and long. And so the story floats about, finding refuge in many willing ears. The poor girl hears it eventually, from a friend who wants to help — but is secretly one of those people who get a thrill from being eyewitnesses to disaster, because she gleans her happiness from the debris of other people’s lives. Distraught, the girl convenes a meeting with the original recipients of “the secret”. It yields nothing, except tears and recrimination — nobody is happy about anything anymore. And everybody unwittingly makes a vow not to reveal any more important information, particularly pertaining to their pursuit of happiness. That is probably why few people say “I am fine”, and mean it, when you ask after their wellbeing. Very many like to ask, “how is life?” Be very afraid — why do they want to know? Surely not so they can kill the fatted calf and celebrate with you. The proper response required is a demure “I am 50-50”, or, “life is so-so”, delivered with a self-deprecating grimace and lowered eyes; meaning, I am well enough to get by, but not so well as to provoke anyone into petty acts of jealousy with the intention to harm my being. Because if I tell you about the fountain of happiness in my life, you will probably throw poison into it so that none of us can imbibe from it. Therefore, I am going to lie low and keep myself to myself, if that is what it takes to get a little peace around here. Why is it so difficult to be happy for other people? Possibly, the pursuit of happiness is a zero-sum game; there is simply not enough to go around, therefore some can only accrue it at the expense of others. Like it is with money, when you have a little happiness, fraudulently or legally accrued, you better be looking over your shoulder.

A blog by Katherine Wright Desai, Ph.D. caught my attention today.
( I've only recently come across Katherine's work and enjoy her perspective. )

Living Your Joy Filled Life

What do you see around you that brings you back to yourself and your joy? What reminds you that Life is meant to be joyful? Whatever the little triggers and messages, hints and nudges - watch for them and encourage them in your day to day experiences! When you see or hear them -  let them remind you of your own joy and to bring it out and let your joy shine. It might be a bird's song, the unbridled laughter of a child, a butterfly landing near you. Perhaps the lyrics of a favorite song, a smile from a stranger or maybe even just some of the new slang words in pop culture like Sweet and Juicy and Ease. Even in marketing; "Life Is Good" has become a popular slogan. The Discovery Channel has a similar promotion with an uplifting, positive message about loving life on planet earth.

I might be a bit prejudiced toward these messages and nudges; it's the main focus of my on-line work where-ever I pop up on a search. Encouraging people to watch for the magic in their own lives, seeing how little choices can make big differences, celebrating nature and our natural world. Even celebrating the human spirit immersed within it all! It has been my passion to find ways to capture magical little moments in words or photographs when possible and share them through blogs, a website, and a variety of on-line social sharing formats (I've triedFacebook, Twitter, Flickr, Picassa, Photobucket, YouTube, Lulu, Clipmarks , Care2). I've never thought much about what I was doing, rather I seemed driven to learn how and to explore a wide range of computer applications to make it happen.

Over the years the greatest benefit for me has been the ability to see beyond all the bad news, strife and grief that permeates our society. It doesn't make me ignore it or enjoy it - don't get me wrong. Simply, I can also see that there are beautiful aspects to our world as well. There are heroes of all walks of life. There are courageous and generous people in every country in the world. There are lovers and children and grandparents. There are birds and fish, flowers and trees; there are incredible sunsets and there is unmatchable beauty and it is right here in this very same world where some people have lost sight of their joy and have chosen to focus on war and anger and pain.