“You cannot wait for an untroubled world to have an untroubled moment.” – Lemony Snicket

There’s a lot that I’ve learned in the past few years. One of the most important things anyone can and needs to learn is how to be happy. I don’t mean happy based on your life or how you’re feeling. I mean truly happy at the core of who you are. Life throws a lot of curve balls, and you can’t just sit and wait for things to get good.

Over the past few years, I’ve constantly found myself waiting for my life to start. Waiting for my “real life” to start instead of realizing that I’m already here living it, and it’s up to me to change my outlook and be grateful for what’s happening around me.

If you know me, have read this blog, are Facebook friends with me, or follow me on Instagram, you probably already know that my brother passed on in 2017. One of the most important things I learned from my brother was that happiness comes from inside you. It’s up to you to find it, but it’s within each of us. It’s the drive that makes us wake up each day and want to live our lives to the fullest. More than that, you must start living every day to the fullest.

My brother, Adam, lived every day happy. He was passed on 2 months before his 35^th birthday, but for the 34 years he was here, he was happy. Always. He never waited for some future amusement to realize that life was here, and he was living it. On top of it, he lived by example. He wasn’t trying to show off, he was just here to live.

There’s a line I love from the movie P.S. I Love You where the main married couple is in an argument, and the husband says, “We’re already in our life. It’s already started. This is it. You have to stop waiting.” I saw the movie years ago, but that line has always resonated with me.

If you read my blog post from New Year’s Eve, or follow my weight loss Instagram, you already know that I’ve been steadily losing weight for about 4 ½ months. I constantly find myself saying, “When I’m my goal weight…” But how should I be ending that sentence? I’ll finally be happy?

News flash: if you’re constantly finding ways that your life is empty instead of being grateful for what you have, you’re never going to be happy.

What about what happens now? What about what happens in the meantime of your goal? Are you just supposed to be miserable and unhappy with yourself always wishing the grass were greener? Or will you be able to sit down, relax, make the changes you want and be happy with every small step of progress?

I also made a promise to myself that 90% of the changes I was making to lose weight needed to be permanent. I see so many people lose weight only to put it back on. I hate those extreme diets that get you down to the weight you want, but don’t teach you anything about how to maintain your goal weight and live your life consistently with your newfound health.

Now, I said 90% because there are modifications I’ve made that won’t last forever. Am I going to skip dessert for the rest of my life? Um, this girl loves chocolate way too much to give it up forever. At the same time this time of discipline is helping me. I’m not going to go back to having copious amounts of dessert, chips, ice cream, and fast food everyday either. There’s a balance.

It’s empowering to say no to the things that once stood in my way and have sat heavily on my small frame for so long. I’m done. No more. I don’t want to spend one more New Year’s waking up with the thought, “I really need to lose weight this year. Next New Year’s Day, I will wake up and not have to think this again.” It’s a bad cycle.

Plus, stringing days of discipline together amounts to big changes in the long run. In the same way that stuffing my face year after year amounted to gaining around 20 pounds a year, it works the same way in the other direction.

I’m not saying it’s not hard. Discipline is hard. Sometimes it’s really hard. And then there are some days when it’s a breeze. There are also the days when yesterday was easy and then today, I’d give my left arm for a cookie.

Make the change you need to make and find the power behind it. Find things to be grateful for every day. Even if it seems small and silly, it counts. Realizing the good only makes you realize more good and prepares you for more abundance. When you begin it, don’t stop. And if you fail, get back up. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I failed at weight loss. But I never gave up on myself. I never took the big picture of what I wanted out of my site. And as a result, I’m on my road to freedom as I found the solution.

New goal: be happy with today.

“Animals are such agreeable friends. They ask no questions; they pass no criticisms.” – George Eliot

Is there anything better than the unconditional love of a small furry animal? They’re cute, sweet, and love you whether or not it’s deserved. During my parents’ marriage, they’ve had 3 animals. I’ve been lucky enough to know all three.

Their first pet was a dog named Molly. She was born on September 11, 1977. She was the offspring of my parents upstairs neighbors at a boarding school where my dad taught and coached. My dad was taking care of Beanie (Molly’s mom), when she started giving birth. My dad went over to Beanie to help her when a puppy fell into his hand. That puppy was my parents’ first fur child and the first pet I ever knew. She was great, but I never got to know her until the last week of her life. She passed on when I was 3, and up until that point, we were the same height. Her friendly and strong tail could land me on my tush in seconds.

Even though I wasn’t the biggest fan of Molly, she loved me anyway. She loved my brother, too, who came along first. In fact, once when he was being babysat, Molly sat outside his room and growled at the babysitter every time she tried to go in. When he started to cry, Molly came and got the babysitter since she couldn’t comfort him.

Molly used to run faster than anything I’d ever seen. Actually, even though she wasn’t running at me, it used to scare me. We lived next door to the school where my dad taught, and my dad used to walk her down to the football field to let her run. I used to beg to be picked up to avoid getting run over.

Molly passed away on April 22, 1991. Even though I was only three, I still remember watching my dad come back from the vet after she had been put down. His face was red, and I remember watching my mom rush out the door to greet him. They both stood on our front walk crying and hugging. Losing a pet is the worst.

It was 7 years before we got another pet. We toyed around with a lot of options. We thought about getting a dog and a cat, two cats, a cat… In April of 1998, we went down to the SPCA to look at cats. There were several that we liked, but there was one sweet tabby that caught our eye. When we met her in the visiting room, she casually hopped up onto the bench the four of us were sitting on, crawled over us and finally curled up and went to sleep in my dad’s lap. We were in love.

We immediately adopted her and changed her name from Pumpkin to Flossie. My great-grandmother’s name was Florence Leona Strong (also where my middle name comes from), and she was called “Flossie.” We decided it was the perfect name for this sweet little kitten.

Flossie had been taken from her mother too early and needed to be fed from a bottle and still had to have shots and had to be spayed. We got to take her home in June when she was just 6 months old. I can’t begin to express how much I adored this kitten. I held her every chance I got, I carried her around the house, and she slept on my bed every night. She loved curling up and napping in my lap, and any time I called her, she would come running.

During my sophomore year of high school, I had to have surgery. When I came home and had to stay in bed for two weeks, Flossie left my room only for food, water, and the litter box. Other than that, she was on my bed at all times of the day or night. It was her job to take care of me.

Leaving her when I left for college was sad for me. When I came home, Flossie used to punish me by ignoring me. A couple of times, I was home so shortly, that she ended up avoiding me for my whole visit. She learned her lesson and would still punish me but would forgive me after about an hour.

She got used to being my parents’ cat without me and used to sleep on their bed (often between them) every night. When she would decide it was bedtime, she would come out and meow at them to go to bed so she could curl up in the crook of my mom’s knees.

Flossie passed away on September 19, 2017. Had she made it to January, she would have been 20 years old. The day before she passed on, my parents and I took turns holding her, and my parents cradled her between them one last time. She passed on in my mom’s arms the next day and she was buried in my parents’ garden.

A year went by, and my parents stayed pet-less. Then at the end of 2018, an email went out to my parents’ neighborhood saying that a sweet black cat had been found and was unclaimed. She had been roaming the neighborhood and sat at the window of their neighbor’s house one cold night begging to be let in. No one had claimed her, and the couple who had found her couldn’t keep her because of pets they already had.

The second my parents saw her sweet picture, they went and visited her and immediately fell in love. We were watching large amounts of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel at the time, and we decided to name her Maisie. She came home with my parents on January 1, 2019. We’re not sure when she was born, but the vet guessed she was about 2 years old.

Maisie is such a different kitty from Flossie. If you follow me on Instagram or are friends with me on Facebook, I’m sure you’ve seen her grace the page a time or two. She’s skittish, but she does her petly duty of loving her owners.

I’ve been staying with my parents for a few months, and a couple months ago, I was having a bad day. I went into the living room where Maisie was curled up asleep on the couch. At the time, I was crying. Maisie looked up at me, deciding whether or not she wanted to make a dash for the door. When she saw me crying, she put her head back down and closed her eyes. I scratched her soft black head, and she began to purr softly. Hearing this sweet animal loving me instantly made me feel better.

I’m so grateful for every pet we’ve had. Each has been such an integral and important member of our family. Pets have a way of becoming a part of you and making your life more meaningful and memorable. They’re sweet and loving and always have your back. I know cats often get a bad rep because they’re high maintenance, but they can be so sweet and loving. There’s nothing like holding a tiny kitten that purrs so much that its whole little body vibrates with love. Honestly, if we paid better attention, we could probably treat each other better. The world only needs more love, and pets existence only brings more of it.

“I’ve said it before, and I say it again. Bagels can be an enormous power for good or for evil. It is up to us to decide how we will use them.” – Daniel Pinkwater

“I’d like an asiago bagel with onion and chive shmear, and a Farmhouse sandwich. Also, could you have your sandwich makers wipe down the counter and change their gloves? I have a severe peanut allergy.”

The woman before me was pretty and thin. She wore designer jeans, Uggs, a white long-sleeved shirt, and a puffy white vest. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and she wore a hot pink knitted snow cap with a pom-pom on the top.

“Of course!” I said back.

The regional manager (my boss’ boss), Brian, and my coworker, Kevin, stood behind me with their backs to me making orders. This woman was the only one in the store, but on such a snowy day, a lot of people had ordered from DoorDash.

“Hey,” I whispered to Brian, “we have a peanut allergy. Could you all change gloves and wash down the sandwich board?”

“You got it, Blondie.” Ever since I had returned from my trip to see my parents with my highlights touched up, Brian had started calling me “Blondie.”

No sooner had I made the allergy request, Kevin took the board to the back to wash it down.

Brian looked over my shoulder to see who had made the request. “Trisha! How’s it going? How’s Todd? Is he better yet?”

“Yes! He finally tested negative, thank God. Man, that Covid is a nightmare!”

“Oh, that’s so great. I’m glad to hear it. Tell him hi, and he needs to come back to get his own bagel!”

Trisha laughed. “Oh, I’ll tell him! Thanks, Brian!”

Kevin returned with the board, and Brian turned back to making sandwiches. As I sent the order to the sandwich board computer and down to Susan who was working the cashier at the other end of the counter, I watched as Brian and Kevin quickly made her order. By the time Trisha had paid Susan, her order was already sitting in a neatly folded bag next to the register.

As Trisha left the store, I watched as the snow swirled through the parking lot. She ducked into her car and drove away.

I stood watching the almost-empty snowy parking lot wondering when the next customer would come.

A sage green Jaguar pulled into the parking spot in front of the store, and an elderly couple got out of the car. The man walked with a cane, but still offered his arm to his wife as she got out of the driver’s side.

As they entered the store, the man stood and looked at the menu on the wall in front of my counter. The woman came up and immediately ordered a poppy seed bagel with regular cream cheese and a large coffee. She made her order with confidence, and then moved down the line to talk to Susan and wait for her husband.

After several minutes, the man came up to the counter.

“Good afternoon, sir! What can I get you?” I asked.

The man looked at me assuredly and said, “Yes, I’ll have a shmear.”

I cocked my head. “A shmear?”

He frowned. “Yes. I’ll have a shmear.”

“Okay, what bagel would you like?”

“No no, I just want a shmear,” he insisted.

All of sudden, I was aware that Brian and Kevin had stopped making orders and Susan had stopped sweeping. Other than Taylor Swift on the sound system, no one made a sound.

I could feel Brian assessing to see if he needed to help me or if I could handle the customer on my own.

“Well, would you like a tub of shmear? We have those down in the case next to the register. Or maybe just an individual side cup?”

He looked flustered. “No. I want a SHMEAR.”

I sighed. “Well, sir, shmear is just a fancy name for cream cheese. It needs a vehicle. Unless you’d like me to find a way to shoot it directly into your mouth, I’d suggest you pick a bagel to put it on.” I smiled, but he was unamused at my sarcasm.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kevin’s shoulders shake. He lifted his hand to his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud.

“Fine,” he said indignantly, “I’ll have a pumpkin bagel. With shmear.”

I braced myself. It was February. “Sir, I hate to tell you this, but pumpkin bagels are seasonal and we actually haven’t sold those since 2016.”

He sighed. “Fine. Plain. I’ll have a plain bagel.”

I stopped myself from asking, “With shmear?” Clearly, he had no sense of humor about this.

I took a deep breath as he moved down the line to pay.

The store resumed its usual noise as Brian and Kevin swiftly made the couple’s order. As the couple left the store, the man looked back and glared at me. I smiled and waved. His wife looked back at me and mouthed, “I’m so sorry!”

The second the door closed, my coworkers erupted with laughter, and they all applauded.

“Nice, going, Blondie!”

“Dang, Lauren, you really held your own!”

“Yeah, and you did an excellent job at keeping your laugh down to a dull roar, Kevin,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

As my coworkers high-fived me, I wondered what would have happened if he had gotten someone mean or impatient. He was clearly in a mood over something that had nothing to do with me. He wasn’t the first difficult customer I dealt with, and I knew he wouldn’t be the last. But what I did learn was how important it is to treat people kindly even if it isn’t returned. I knew my patience might have made him be a little nicer with someone else or maybe patient with the next order-taker he dealt with when he came back in. But regardless, I felt good about treating someone decently.

I thought about the moment when his wife turned and apologized to me. Somehow that small gesture of compassion made the conversation with her husband more bearable. I only hoped I did the same for him.