Because I’m a girl and a good cry from joy can make me happier than anything. And I’m ok with being a wuss.

When I don’t know that anything is coming to my post office box, I check it less frequently. Honestly, I don’t need Hardees coupons or local flyers. When I opened my box this week, I had a gift. It was a slip of an envelope that had Kurt Halsey’s name on it.

One of my first blogs, in a much different time of my life, was about a custom Kurt Halsey piece that Leon had commissioned for me for Christmas. I love his work and lately had been longing for something that represented where I feel I am now.

I mentioned in my twitter that I was wishing for the postcards of his most recent works. I had no idea what I’d do with them, but I would find something creative. In my mailbox this week were these.

Thank you, mystery gifter. You have no idea what kind of week I’ve had and what they meant. Kurt included a couple of handwritten post its that made me weepy.

And I cried.

Like the little wuss I am.

And I loved it.

I wanted one of those little yellow pieces of plastic more than anything.

Luckily, I lived just down the road from my cousins and their parents were much crazier than mine. Or, it’s quite possible they knew that the secret to peace of mind over that particular summer lay in an enlarged water bill and a little piece of yellow plastic. Either way, my cousins got the slip-n-slide and I got to walk the quarter of a mile to their place every day to bust my butt on the plastic and the hard dirt underneath.

Run Run Run Run Sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide YES I’M FLYING NO NO NO I’m rollling! OUCH!

And back in line I’d go. And don’t think it was a short line. I wasn’t the only kid who knew about my cousin’s slip-n-slide. We lived in the country and the neighbor kids heard. So did their parents, and their parents weren’t going to pony up for a slip-n-slide or a water bill either. We’d dutifully get in line about ten kids back until we bled enough that it just stung too much to go again that day.

Nowadays, oh how old I feel saying nowadays, nowadays, the slip-n-slide has become so fancy! You can slide into a pool! The piece of plastic is HUGE and there are safeguards for those wimpy kids who care about bleeding. On the 4th of July, I found out exactly how intricate the whole slip-n-slide industry had become.

In Nashville on the 4th, our downtown area is amazing. Truly an amazing sight to behold is the area by the river that just lights up with booths of any kind of food you’d like, booths where you can buy the coolest hats on earth and a whole street dedicated to the littlest cowboys and cowgirls in the city.

As jets flew over the city celebrating our Independence, we walked around with bottled water and looked to see what was happening in our fair land. My little sister marveled at the cute boys. My mom wanted to go see what was going on down by the river. And me? I kept getting pulled towards these huge inflatable bouncy things, as all moms do.

After getting a stamp on his hand that made all the rides FREE, AJ was off. One of the first few rides to catch his eye was a large slip-n-slide. When I say slip-n-slide, I don’t mean one close to the ground. This inflatable wonder was about 4 feet off the ground and looked like a long island. Kids would run and jump UP onto it where sprinklers would shoot down onto them for about 20 feet. The line was short, but the joy was long.

I stood by the end and watched as child after child, including my own, jumped onto it and laughed themselves silly. It’s not been a great summer by any standards, but I couldn’t stop laughing along with them. The thing about joy is that it is utterly contagious. Some would jump up there, realize “OH NO THERE IS WATER UP HERE” and try to get down until mom or dad would take their hand and then lead them through the slide. After which, they would cry to go back on. There was a devilish little thing, who couldn’t have been more than three, who would go through the whole thing, slam his body down to the concrete after he got done, like the hulk, and give devil hands. I’m not kidding. Just like the orange ones to the right. He was totally “rock and roll” about the slide. And AJ? AJ would run, jump, slide, fall on his bottom, laugh and do it over and over again. He probably did it 30 times. I laughed just as hard as he did every time.

Yes, children are amazing and sometimes the smallest things in life are a recipe for joy. Just add water.

However, Tuesday rolled around and it was time for some change. I’d scheduled a cut, color and highlights with my friend Chris, who is an awesome stylist. He’s been taking care of me for almost 2 1/2 years and, beyond being good at what he does, we have a good time when we are together. He’s one of those people that I feel like I can be myself with in that he’s going to get my jokes and he might even laugh at them. We’ll sit and talk for 3 hours with no awkwardness and I’ll leave feeling like I’m caught up on his life and, hopefully, he’s caught up on mine. It’s a good relationship and there are precious few of those around lately.

I got to hear about old women and dirty Subway jokes, political jokes that we have to whisper, just in case the other patrons might hear and I can tell him that my theme for this haircut is “Hot. Just make me look hot. I don’t care what you do to it” and know that it’s going to happen. And it did. And he’s awesome. At one point, his co-worker, who’d kept himself in the majority of our conversation, had commented that he liked to laugh, too, because we were both laughing so hard that Chris had to stop working.

Rare friendships. I love those.

Well, what do you think? It’s got some red in it, as well as some blonde. Oh, and there is a Chris in the picture, too. I’m not getting rid of anyone that says “You already are” when I tell him to make me pretty. Nope. He’s a keeper. I’m not telling you anything else that was said. We share an odd sense of humor.

Besides spending time with one of my favorite people, as well as the best stylist in the area, I got to see one of my besties, Kristin. I rarely go to her neck of the woods, as it’s almost an hour away and there is more to do in my area. However, it’s where Chris is and my hair isn’t going to take care of itself, though wouldn’t that be awesome? “Hair, color yourself!”

Anyway, I happened to choose the day that Kristin only works until 3, which was awesome because I was done around 3:30. I hugged Chris goodbye and set off to the mall. Leon and AJ, who’d both taken a couple of days off for fall break, decided to meet us there after Leon hurt himself playing golf. I’m not going to say a word about golf. Nope. Not a word. It was a somewhat last minute decision that Leon and AJ would come to do some mall-wandering and ended with all of us going to Olive Garden.

I love Olive Garden.

I want to marry Olive Garden and have little olive-ettes.

Then, on the drive home, which was blissfully quiet except for some *whispering* country */whispering* music, I was treated to a sunset that literally brought me to tears. One of the reasons I love Nashville so much is the scenery. There is something so beautiful about the rolling hills and the trees and the natural rocks. When I turn a corner, I’m treated to something new and amazing with every breath. Sorry for the junky windshield pictures. I’m too lazy to clean it and too mystified by the beauty of it to not share it with you.

As I pulled into Franklin, I swore I heard bells. The closer I got to Five Points (an area of historic downtown), the louder they pealed. As I checked for signs of neurological disorder, I realized that I was driving closer to one of the beautiful historic churches in the area. Someone was ringing the bells and it was glorious. The bells and the sunset and the sky and day I’d had…it was all too much.

What a wonderful day. Can I please have more of these?