Life

Happy Sunday you guys, this is my New Moon wish for you!

There was a New Moon in Capricorn at 8:30 PM EST, January 9 (so, last night). It signifies new beginnings, as do all new moons.

According to astrologer Leo Knighton Tallarico:

“This one is in Capricorn and as such it prompts us to get back out into the world, to organize and plan, to be more disciplined, to do what one needs to do, to make firmer boundaries, to be in one’s integrity, to demand more from yourself and others, to concentrate more on work and accomplishment, to have greater self-respect, to be more logical and realistic.”

Amen to that! I could use some more organized discipline and I’m always working on setting those boundaries!

If you want to read the rest of his take on the new moon (and he also does some astrological predictions for some of the Presidential candidates which I found interesting, here’s his website:

https://spiritualtherapy.wordpress.com

Carry on,

xox

Thank you over-entitled, underappreciative, totally unaccountable assholes. Thank you for keeping it real.

Okaaaaaay…
So, here I am trying to wrangle me some assholes.
Like an idiot, I think I can change their minds about their assholishness. But come on, we all know they can’t hear me because they are not at a place to, awwwww fuck it… (their heads are too far up their asses!), there, I said it.

Thursday I was talking to my friend Heather (one of the sweetest, nicest people on the planet. Waaaaay nicer than me!), and we were commiserating (uh oh, slippery slope), about how it seems that lately all of the—we won’t call them bad guys, okay, so maybe they can be called the “shitty people”.
How it seems that all of the “shitty people” (assholes) seem to be coming out on top. Either with their particular brand of financial trickery or the fact that their hijinks (general jackassery), is trying to suck the good cheer out of the new year—and is keeping us up at night.

Now, if I’m up late at night and YOU are the reason, and I had serial-killer tendencies, they would be materializing right about then. I know it doesn’t seem like it but I can be quite diabolical when pushed. I’m spiritual but I’m not a saint, and when you’re shitty to me or mine, I Ommmmm it away as long as humanly possible—and then I start plotting all the ways to…well, you know, kill you, or at least, ruin your day.

What I really need to do is mind my own goddamn business.
Seriously.
Just back away from the asshole; smile and disengage.
Then take a nap. Or go to a movie.
I’ve been seeing an awful LOT of movies lately.

Remember this poem from last year? Yeah me neither.
Just kidding, actually it keeps repeating on an endless loop in my brain—right alongside all the murderous thoughts.
I think it would be smarter to let IT win.

Here is what I’ve prescribed for myself today:

“Mind your own business” she said, the voice in my head.

“Who the hell are you?” I replied.

“Mind your own business!”

“Mind your own business” she warned, “Don’t look over there,
it’s not your concern, why do you care?”

I see some disaster and I’m compelled to assist;
like a poor choice of lipstick—I can hardly resist.

“Mind your own business”, she harped, “Keep your thoughts to yourself.
That’s the best piece of advice, better than any book on a shelf.”

“Mind your own business” she sniped, “And here’s more advice:
keep your nose outta trouble.
Don’t make me ask twice.”

“Darling. I’m you.”

Some people are just shitty assholes—so drink some water, go to the movies, and mind your own business this weekend you guys!

Carry on
xox

This is a badass essay by Liz Gilbert about her favorite badass friends and her idea of what makes a badass (which of course I agree with wholeheartedly because she did all of the emotional research and thinking and I just nodded the entire time in complete agreement).

And when I did feel up to it (after a Triscuit or five with cheese—and a nap), I made a sloppy, unorganized and I’m certain incomplete list of my favorite badasses. BTW– if you’re not mentioned here and it pisses you off, KNOW that very reaction makes you a badass. And know that it was just an oversight on my part due to age and a brain made of Swiss cheese and try not to hate me too much.

My FAVORITE BADASSES (in no particular order):

Mom & Lee for being tanks and overcoming health obstacles (and for being regular readers of this blog which makes you an automatic badass, and if you laugh–an honorary badass).

My husband for obvious reasons and because HAVE YOU MET HIM? His picture is in the dictionary under badass. No lie.

My sister and brother for sharing our crazy fucking gene pool and still managing to gather together cool people to love and create a couple of great lives that entertain and delight me.
And for being there.

My friend Eva, for kicking cancer’s ass like a ninja-rock-star. And reinventing herself afterward.

My friend Kim, for her courage, grace and for maintaining her sense of humor in the face of her epic reinvention.

My friend Step, for being more fully realized at 35 than I’ll ever be, for accruing the most vertical miles skied, for believing in herself and her story so much she scored an unheard of bangin’ book deal as a first-time author AND for walking with me on imaginary hot magma.

Linda, Danielle and our beautiful writers group. Just that we all found each other and can keep up with all of the talent—makes us badasses.

Little Pants for just maintaining her equilibrium as a teenage girl in Los Angeles in 2016. I could NEVER!

To Nora for teaching me trust, courage and receptivity from beyond the grave. Talk about a badass!

This list could go on and on because pretty much everyone around me is covered in badass sauce. So…what about you? Who is your favorite badass? Do you have the courage to put in  the comments? (gauntlet thrown).

Carry on,
Xox

***

WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE BADASS? By Liz Gilbert

Dear Ones –

Our sweet friend Ruth Sze at www.doodlebubbledesigns.com posted this lovely drawing on Instagram yesterday and I love it so. She invited us to ponder who our favorite badass is right now, and i invite you to do the same, and to tag that person in your response.

My favorite badass this week is my friend Glennon Doyle Melton (Momastery) because she always uses her broken heart to heal a broken world. She is a tireless and generous love ninja, who is not afraid to be vulnerable, not afraid to risk connection, not afraid to share her scars and fears so that others do not feel so alone in their confusion.

Also, this week, somebody was mean to Glennon (which makes me become a crazy she-wolf of protection for my friend!) but Glennon refused to let it stop her from her ongoing mission of love.

My favorite badasses are all people who are not afraid to feel their feelings.

A real badass is not afraid to forgive.

A true badass is not afraid to sit in her sadness and anger and pain until she works her way through it — rather than lashing out in retaliation at the world, or making other people suffer for her pain.

A beautiful badass — in my eyes — is someone who has learned that before she can make friends with anyone else, she must make friends with the crazy shit-tornado who is herself. Because until we love our own crazy shit-tornado, we can’t love anyone else’s crazy shit-tornado.

A creative badass is anyone who is not afraid to share her imagination with the public — regardless of the criticism that may arise.

A generous badass is anyone who says, “I have more than enough for myself and I ALWAYS WILL — therefore, I will share whatever I have with you.”

A resilient badass is anyone who stands in the wreckage of failure and error and says, “Oops. Guess we better start cleaning this up…anybody got a broom?”

A brave badass is anyone who has ever asked for help.

An optimistic badass is anyone who believes that this broken world is still worth fighting for.

A smart badass is anyone who can set boundaries without being punishing or vindictive.

And a holy badass is anyone who knows that — beyond this whole wild and messy world — there is power at work greater than anything we can imagine…and that we are part of that story.

I am so lucky to be surrounded by SO MANY badasses. It would take forever to list them all. But today, I especially honor Glennon, who had a rough week and who keeps going…and for whom I will ride or die.

Now…over to you guys.

Who is your favorite badass today?

ONWARD,
LG

I’m just going to say it. The end of 2015 was a clusterfuck of mixed-up energies of epic proportions. Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but you get what I mean. Besides, many of YOU were the ones that were calling it to my attention.

When I wrote about how conflicted I felt about how sad I felt in paradise, the genie was out of the bottle! SO many of you were sad too–for no apparent reason–which just makes it all the more confusing. At least if someone fell and broke a hip or your cat got run over–you know why you want to crawl under the bed.

We all like reasons for our emotions. I know I do.

Even my teenage niece just wasn’t feelin’ it in December and she was raised by elves in Santa’s Village, North Pole, USA. We count on her to buoy the rest of us with her unlimited teenage-girl holiday enthusiasm, decorating her room with white twinkle lights and making sure every square inch of my sister’s house looks like a reindeer barfed Christmas (and presents), everywhere.

Not this year. She was…melancholy. We’re just chalking it up to the weird energy and he fact that a certain amount of melancholy is synonymous with being sixteen.

Okay so everybody felt sad. I get that. But here’s where it got interesting.
Suddenly, the week after Christmas, I was overtaken by an overwhelming sense of…optimism.

Like 2016 was going to be the best year ever!

Again, I had nothing, whatsoever, besides my usual delusional thinking on which to base that upbeat prognosis.

When I spoke up at the New Years Eve party, expecting to get pummeled with dinner rolls, instead, everyone, get that? EVERYONE agreed!

2016 is going to be awesome. And we have no idea why.

A couple of people, Danielle La Porte being one of them, wrote about the numerology behind the year 2016.

2016 2+0+1+6 = 9 the year of answered prayers.
What? Are you kidding? Prayers? Answered? Well, no wonder we’re all collectively peeing our pants. Who doesn’t love answered prayers?! Don’t you fucking LOVE knowing that?

The Year of Answered Prayers.

That unclenches my jaw AND my butt. A real double-whammy.

I can hear you. You’re all asking yourselves right now: Hey, (our tribe starts everything with “hey”), hey, does Janet pray? Hell yeah! And meditate and chant and write shit down and ask nicely in my most polite voice. I cover all of my request-line bases.

So, the other night, In answer to prayer 4,567,389, is this really going to be such a great year? I had a dream where I watched as the night sky was carpeted with falling stars. There were thousands a minute. It was the meteor shower of all meteor showers and because it was so extraordinary I knew it was a dream. Still, I squealed and clapped with delight like I do when I watch fireworks. When I woke up I felt elated. (which was the polar opposite of sad and that made me worry for a sec that maybe I was losing my shit).

Of course I looked it up:
“To see a meteor in your dream suggests that you will experience success in a project. You are on your way toward realizing your goals and desires. Alternatively, the meteor refers to wishful thinking and idealistic thoughts.
To see a meteor shower in your dream signifies romantic thoughts and idealistic notions.”

…and answered prayers you guys. The year of answered prayers.

Breath in…breathe out…and carry on

xox

How many of you are blamers? Or married to a blame? Or were raised by a major blamer?
Show of hands, please. Uh-huh, I thought so.

I had a boss for almost twenty years who was a blamer and it drove. me. nuts. He was a shamer too. I’m convinced blame and shame are siamese twins, but that’s just me. Let’s see what the expert, Brene Brown has to say about blame in this short, funny and insightful video.

As for me? I’m not a blamer, I’m an “I told you so-er”.
I have to bite my tongue not to say in some way, shape or form, “I told you so” to my husband like, forty-five thousand times a day.
Seriously.
Like today. He saved all of his outdoor tasks for this morning. The morning we were ALL warned that El Nino was going to hit us like well, like a big, fat, super soggy storm full of really wet rain.

And like the shining example of good wifery that I am, I reminded said husband of his shitty decision making,choices, —timing, before I left for the gym and it was only drizzling.

But alas, he waited until the REAL rain hit to empty the dog poop can into the main garbage bin, get the dead Christmas tree out to the curb for pick-up, and fiddle (fix in man-speak), with the sump-pump (all of which we talked about just yesterday), and then sent me a text and left evidence (wet pants in the shower), of how soaked he got. (Who is surprised here? What woman is the least bit surprised by this?)

See how I did that? Never once did you hear me say I told you so. I wanted to. So very, very, badly.
My tongue has permanent grooves.

Listen, I don’t want to tell Brene how to run her social media, but I think that needs to be her next video.

The seemingly repressed but clearly expressed I told you so.

What do you guys think? (That’s for you, Jim)

Love, soggy in Studio City
Carry on,
xox

Here it is, my first Huffington Post of 2016!

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/janet-bertolus/its-a-new-yearbe-audaciou_b_8905344.html

This is a re-worked essay from back when Moses was a kid (some of you old farts may remember it because you lived it with me), that talks about that moment when I finally realized, with every fiber of my being, that I couldn’t stand to be “left” by a man one-more-time.

So, I searched and searched for what I wanted to feel.

Loved? They all said they loved me but love wears a different hat with each guy so…I was thinkin’ no, not loved, apparently love wasn’t enough for them to stay.

How about respected? Oh sure, I wanted to feel respected by a man and I’m not saying I wasn’t. It’s just that respect doesn’t give you ooglies (that indescribably warm feeling that starts in your kishkes and eventually makes its way to your lady parts). I know it should—but it doesn’t and if it does for you—then you’re a better woman than I.

There was something else. Some key ingredient that was missing.

Finally, after an exhaustive search of my emotional inventory I found the word for how I wanted to feel but that word embarrassed me. It had alluded me because it felt like too much.
It felt audacious and a little dangerous to ask for it—but at that point what did I have to lose?

I wanted to be adored by a man. I wanted him to look at me the way I look at the waiter when he sets down a warm, gooey dessert in front of me with only ONE spoon.

With pure, unadulterated adoration.

And it worked!

It’s a New Year you guys! I say Go for it. Make this your most audacious year EVER!
xox

I don’t know about you guys but I neeeeeeed this right now and what better way to be reminded than by a hedgehog driving a car.
I can relate…because I probably look like a hedgehog honking at everything that moves these days.
AND I’ve decided I want all of my reminders animated and delivered by hedgehogs.
Okay? Are we clear?

Carry on
xox

Nobody likes a bragger.
Or a holier-than-thou-cow.
Or a mime, or a scary clown. Nobody.
Am I Right?

How do we feel about magic?
We LOVE magic!

And surprises? Well…we tolerate surprises. Especially the ones we really don’t know about which are few and far between because of our control issues, but that’s another story.

Tuesday I was visited by some real life surprise tuxedo magic!
I know! Tuxedo magic.
Not to be confused with a magician in a tuxedo.
You guys—freaking tuxedo MAGIC.

Hubby and I were invited to a New Years Eve party which is as rare as a unicorn sighting but add to that the fact that it is BLACK TIE.
Ohhhhhh F.A.N.C.Y.
And completely out of our wheelhouse until they start making plaid flannel formal wear. Then we’re down for it.

Anyhow, we really like the people who invited us and we have met and actually approve of their friends (which is even rarer than a freaking unicorn—it is struck by lightning while wearing the Hope Diamond, rare), so we RSVP’d and then promptly forgot about the fact that we had to rustle up formal wear until…Tuesday.

It’s called denial. Deal with it.

Raphael’s tux was easy peasy. We rented it lock, stock, and shiny shoes in twenty minutes flat.
It was a no-brainer and he’s going to look stunning.

My outfit was going to be another story.
I fantasized about wearing the gown I was married in which isn’t a typical wedding dress, it’s a gorgeous gown that is begging for a second go-around, but that was fifteen years and ten, fifteen, twenty-ish pounds ago when my boobs resided in another zip code much farther north than they do now so I couldn’t even bring myself to try it on.

I like to avoid masochistic situations and when your Spanx tell you there’s no hope—well, you should listen.

In my imagination, (that vivid, lying scoundrel that lives inside my head), I toyed with the idea of wearing a tuxedo myself.
Not the Victor/Victoria woman in a boys tux sort of thing, no, I wanted the YSL straight from the runway, sexy-ass tuxedo Kourtney Kardashian rocked at her mother’s 60th birthday bash.
At a 90% discount. So something exactly like it but completely different.

I talked about it. I asked some people. I made some calls. There was snort-laughing and I wasn’t the one laughing so it wasn’t funny.  I decided to drop it.

As my dad used to say: “People want ice water in hell”.
Picture me standing naked and thirsty in hell begging for water, some ice, and a designer tuxedo.
Got it?
That was me the past couple of weeks—sadly misguided by an active asshole of an imagination.
We ALL know this is never going to happen.

In the midst of all this malarkey, I happened to glance across the street one day at a second-hand store. Something shiny was in the window. Something that would be perfect to wear New Years if I had the arms, legs, and body of a pipe cleaner.

Still, it stuck in my mind that a second-hand store could be my fancy wardrobe salvation.

So I waited until the last-minute, you know like you do.

Tuesday my trusty stylist and brutally honest friend Kim and I met at Wasteland.

The place smelled like hope and teen spirit and after ten minutes of pawing through dreck, Kim found the designer rack.
Little known fact: Heaven provides special, luminous spotlighting for designer racks at second-hand stores. I can’t explain it. It just does.
That spotlight led Kim directly to a black designer jacket. A tuxedo jacket. Then the matching pants. In my size you guys, I kid you NOT!

Listen. Can you hear the angels singing? (Sometimes a miracle comes with its own soundtrack.)

My heart was pounding as I raced to the dressing room fully aware of the truly miraculous nature of this find, and hoping that it wasn’t a two glass of wine and too much cheese-induced dream.

My boobs perked up. Even my Spanx were hopeful.

And it fit.
Like it was made for me. AND it was 90% cheaper than the original price. (So cheap it was FREE!) Surprise!
Even Kim, my wry, side-eye-wise-guy stylist/friend called it. Tuxedo perfection.

It was my end of the year, surprise, magical tuxedo miracle! In Studio City California for the love of God.

Note to self: If I can manifest a designer tuxedo for no money in Wasteland. Then I can manifest the “hard stuff”. I can make my own magic!

So I say dream big. Wish for a freaking designer tux to show up. Go ahead, do it! Then keep your eyes open because it’s likely to show up in the most unlikely place possible.

Happy Magical New Year and Carry on,
xox

*This is a…wait for it…a reprise from a thousand years ago. And in this moment, it feels apropos.

I’m reticent (translate to too chicken) to put REPRISE in the title anymore. I’ve been informed that most of you (at least the vocal majority), hate reprises. “I don’t want to re-read things I’ve already read” my brother snarked at me this week. “I mean I get that you might need a break every now and then, but breaks are for lightweights”.
Shit. That’s harsh. Tough crowd.
He doesn’t like it when I ask questions at the end either. “Okay, now you guys weigh in—what do YOU think” he sneers in a sarcastic tone that has me snort laughing my coffee and flipping him off at the same time. “It’s YOUR blog, YOU’RE giving the advice. YOU tell us what we should think!”
So, please excuse me while I chase him around the kitchen flicking him with a wet dish towel and then give him an atomic wedgie.
I’m giving the rest of  y’all a hug right now with a warm blanket made of bacon.
Mmmmmmmmmm…
carry on,
xox

On those days when you’re finding fault with EVERYTHING— the sky isn’t the right Tiffany Box shade of blue and the air conditioning is blowing too cold—how do you get yourself out of it? (hee hee, he’s seething right now).
Do you, at some point realize your ridiculousness and slap yourself across the face to snap out of it?
Or do you marinate in the fact that you’re so contrary that if George Clooney sat down beside you you’d tell him he needed a haircut and an Altoid?

I know you know when you’re being an ass – because I know it when I am.

We wake up every day and there are two sides of the bed on which to get up.
The sunny side or the dark side; the right side or the wrong side.

The question I’m asking is this: if, by some cruel twist of circumstances and hormones you put your feet on the floor when you wake up in the land of EVERYTHING’S WRONG, do you indulge and make those around you miserable, or do you do your damnedest to climb out? ( I really wanna know!)

I’ve done both. I DO both. Guilty as charged in the court of Nit & Pick.

These dark days do not come naturally to me, but when I’m under their spell – watch out – and know that I DO know what an asshat I’m being, I just can’t help myself right. this. minute.
So sorry.

Not really.

The kitchen looks the same as it did two days ago when I was feeling so grateful but today the bright summer sunshine is lighting up a couple of places that have chipped white paint. Instead of making it look charming and cozy it looks like a family of badgers had a drunken pinata party, then had trouble with the bat, (as badgers do), and turned the place into a badger-shithole.

Along those lines, the wine stains on the wood countertops that were just faded purple reminders of a really fun party last summer, have today, (wrong side of the bed day) become my reason for seriously entertaining throwing a grenade behind me and shutting the door, giving us the opportunity for a fresh start.

You’re welcome Honey, what can I say, I’m a giver.

Don’t tell me I’m acting like an idiot when I am—because that’s like taking a high-pressure hose of lighter fluid and spraying it on a fire.

I KNOW I AM. IM WORKING IT OUT.

But I will deny it….with my dying breath I will tell you I’m “fine.”
I’m sorry if your feelings and our kitchen have become collateral damage. If you want to survive this:
Don’t make eye contact and DON’T try to hug me. I have a fork in my hand.

The best strategy in the past has been to isolate myself for a while. Take a lovely walk outside in nature (I can’t today, with the heat index and the humidity, it feels like The Tropic of Cancer.)

Meditation is a good way to snap back into a loving place along with exercise. Neither of those has worked, so I’m still marinating.

Hormones, I’m blaming hormones.
I remember feeling this out of sorts during puberty, but the Good Lord had the common sense to deal me that hand when I wasn’t old enough to marry, operate heavy machinery or carry a firearm.
Whatever shall I do now? (Calm down Jim, that was rhetorical).

The trick for me is listening to my own words as they spill uncensored from my lips.
If they make even me cringe, I need to make a correction.
I need to shut up and realize I’m acting like an ass.
Is that what you do? (*snort)

Try it.
Just listen to yourself. Step up and out of your body as you berate the waiter or the lady at Ralph’s or your husband.

If every other word is a critique or fuck, chances are you’re having THAT kind of day. Or you’re channeling me.

Sometimes, what I hear myself say is so vile it makes me laugh, which then breaks the spell. Or it makes the recipient so mad they chase me around with a taser and I have to make a break for it AND get some cardio in at the same time which is just a win/win. Two birds—one stone.

If that doesn’t work puh-leeze do everyone, including yourself a favor.
Do what I do. Don’t speak TO ANYONE, go to bed early, and before you go to sleep say a little prayer for a better disposition, less facial hair and a better tomorrow.

Love you anyway,
Xox

* I love finding all these lists of things that are going right in the world (you can find more on The Observer’s Voice Facebook Page), and I love sharing them with YOU even more! Here’s one by the great Pam Grout.
Just when you think humanity had fallen off the deep end, remember that there is so much that is going right with the world‚ sadly, it just doesn’t make the 6 o’clock news.
Happy Holidays my loves!
xox

“What worn-out shticks are blinding you to the blessings that life is conspiring to give you?”–Rob Brezsny

People magazine sent me out to interview a Kansas City Secret Santa who passes out $100 bills. Twice. It was a hoot and a half to join him, to see the expression on people’s faces when he’d peel a couple hundys off his stack and hand them over.

So in the interest of continuing my long-standing journalism career, here are 20 additional reasons to be of good cheer:
1. A mystery woman walked into a Toys R Us in Bellingham, Massachusetts and paid off the entire store’s layaway balance, allowing strapped parents to pick up Christmas gifts for their kids.

1. Gas prices have dropped below $2 just in time for holiday visits to family.

2. The gorgeous beaches of Cuba have reopened to vacationing Americans.

3. Oakland Raider’s tackle Menelik Watson donated a week of his salary ($37,000) to Ava Urrea, a four-year-old girl who has had 14 heart surgeries.

4. Natalie DuBose, whose Ferguson, Missouri bakery was vandalized last year during protests, received more than $250,000 in donations from total strangers.

5. The curve is bending on new cases of HIV. More people are being treated than becoming infected.

6. Enough said. This note was left on a car in Edmonton, Canada.
   

7. Gay marriage is now legal in the United States.

8. An Ohio high school student took his 89-year-old great-grandmother to prom because she’d never been.

9. A cop in Montreal has been stopping drivers and, instead of passing out tickets, is passing out $100 bills.

10. Global life expectancy has risen by six years since 1990.

11. Nearly 200 countries signed a bill to reduce the use of foreign fossil fuels.

12. A Dallas woman has donated more than 15,0000 house cleanings for people going through chemo.

13. A 12-year-old from San Jose, California, built a Braille printer (it’s called a BRAIGO) out of LEGO Mindstorms (it’s the souped up version) that lowers the going $2000 price to an affordable $350. He even offers open source plans online for free.

14. A police captain in Omaha, Nebraska organized a Valentine’s card campaign for her sergeant who remarked that he’d never received a Valentine’s card as a kid. He got hundreds from people all over the country.

15. A former professional ballet dancer developed a dancing wheelchair so all of us can dance.

16. Michelle Obama has volunteered the last five years to take calls for NORAD’s Santa hotline.

17. A New York City software engineer gave coding lessons to a homeless man. He offered him either $100 or two months of coding lessons. After just three and a half months, his homeless protégé developed Trees for Cars, a smartphone app that helps commuters organize carpools.

18. Scientists dated a bristlecone pine tree in California’s White Mountains as the world’s longest-living organism. It’s more than 5000 years old, older than the pyramids.

19. And this video (which I already shared on Facebook)

https://youtu.be/82tAGFRiNC4

And remember, my dear friends, this is the holiday season to do more of what you WANT to do and less of what you think you should.

Pam Grout is the author of 17 books including E-Squared: 9 Do-it-Yourself Energy Experiments that Prove Your Thoughts Create Your Reality and the just-released sequel, E-Cubed, 9 More Experiments that Prove Mirth, Magic, and Merriment is your Full-time Gig.

http://pamgrout.com/2015/12/18/21-reasons-to-be-of-good-cheer/