I drive home along the mountains.  It makes me happy.  There is a shorter way through the city, but it is not as pretty and uncomplicated as this way.  The way I choose has tree-lined streets and little neighborhoods. I like that.

I have started to shop at a different grocery store.  It makes me happy.  My old haunt had better prices and it was okay, but it just took one trip to my present grocery store to “get” that it made me happier.  When I got home from my new digs, I noticed that all of the chicken was double-bagged and the raspberries were not squished underneath the eggs and that someone paid attention.  I decided right then and there to shop at the more expensive store and seek out their own labels to get a better deal.  And I am doing that; my bill is the same or less than the former place and everyone smiles. That makes me happy.

Both of these journeys are made several times a week, so I am thinking that I made some good choices.  It is like my favorite pen, the feel of my bath towel, the side table near the couch where I keep my crosswords and the special cup that keeps my tea hot.  All of these things make a difference in my life.

So when the big stuff comes along, I am ready. I know what comfort is. I know what makes me percolate.  That helps me to become a genie and start to transform the challenges into fertilizer for the next new experience and enter it braver, smarter and well, happy.

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