Just now, whilst outside doing some garden work, I found myself chatting with a lizard about these moments, and in the process came to the realization that truly, it's often the smallest thing sometimes that can change our mood, or attitude, or even the way we look at ourselves.
First Event:
Remember that blasted broken Venetian blind? When Mom and my sister came last weekend--and I was anticipating their help with the 6-1/2' x 4' shade--we were either having too much fun to bother, or the sun was blazing in that particular window with the force of two million BTUs.
Yesterday afternoon I got out the drill, screwdriver, screws and ladder, took a deep breath and dived in. Less than an hour later, I had the old broken shade in the bin, and the brand new, beautiful one installed and working perfectly. Honestly, it made me smile for the rest of the day. I called Mom, my sister, Jan (BFF), and my neighbor down the road. And wouldn't you know? Not a single person was home.
Still. I got the satisfying rush, the joy in doing a good job, and the celebratory glass of wine for my efforts...all punctuated with a big, dopey smile.
Second Event:
I had some running around to do this morning after walking the dogs. My last stop was at Staples. I had my stuff in hand when I passed through the camera department, and being the photographer that I am, I always have to check out the new ones, compare them to mine, dink and push buttons.
I'm looking at the new Nikon, which I like very much, except for one glaring detail: the viewing screen on the back is always exposed, leaving greasy, gross fingerprints every time you touch the camera. Suddenly, this man comes close--close enough to practically whisper in my ear. He quietly asks me what I think of the camera. I back away a bit, look at him to assess the danger/weirdness factor--he seems nice, polite, even sort of cute--so I feel comfortable enough to make conversation.
I blather on, talking about my camera, this camera, and that one over there, until I need to get going, so I abruptly end the conversation and head off to the cash register. It isn't until I'm standing in line and glance over to see him smiling at me, that I get it: he was hitting on me!!! My only excuse for being totally clueless: It's been awhile folks and I am soooo out of practice.
He starts to walk toward me, but it's my turn to pay and more people get in line behind me. I don't look again, quickly finish paying, then--and seriously, I couldn't help it--run for my car. Holy crap. I wasn't this inept in junior high. I did laugh most of the way home though.
Third Event:
Before I came in the house to write this, I was doing some gardening in the front yard. I have a rock garden that I built last year, several plants randomly growing between the stones. The deer ate most of one plant in the early Spring (a Rock Rose) and though I have nursed it back to health and spray it faithfully every week with deer deterrent, there are several dead branches I've been meaning to prune.
I'm out there, in the shade of the Birch trees, gentle breeze blowing, temperature in the mid-70s--perfect to my mind--when I see this very cute little alligator lizard sitting on one of the rocks. (The photo is one I took last year; the lizard about 7". And really, don't they honestly look just like alligators?)
The one sitting on the rock, watching every move, was just a wee baby, about 3" long. He still looked like an alligator, just a tiny one.
I started talking to him, telling him about my day as I kept pruning. Every now and then he would cock his head like he was really listening. It made me smile each time he did it.
Which led our discussion--albeit a one-sided one--to the point of this post...
Sometimes it's the little moments, the ones that bring a smile, that truly count.
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