I know this because there was cheescake.

As it happens, I am from Florida and Atlanta. But the real pressing question for me is why do Boston and Philadelphia get their own classification?

OK, nerds, here’s the quiz: http://www.lewrockwell.com/spl3/american-accent-quiz.html

I’ve managed to set off the alarm THREE TIMES THIS WEEK. It’s only Thursday.

Besides feeling put out and totally stupid, I’ve now become that guy at the alarm company. I called to report the false alarm, and the agent laughed, laughed, and asked if I was walking the dog again.

Well, it’s nice to know that I bring some joy to other people’s day.

Meanwhile, I now know who to really blame…

That damn dog has wriggled her way into my heart in a rather unexpected way. It’s hard not to smile when she presses herself against my leg, wanting to be petted. It’s a little moment of happiness we share.

I’ve been making an effort to find these moments more often, and recognize them for what they are … little expressions of joy that fill my day, and fill up my spiritual and emotional tank.

“Life is made up of small pleasures. Happiness is made up of those tiny successes. The big ones come too infrequently. And if you don’t collect all these tiny successes, the big ones don’t really mean anything.” ~ Norman Lear

A stolen kiss in the kitchen. A favorite song that pops up on the radio. That delicious feeling of sliding between freshly laundered sheets. Getting through the green light at a busy intersection. I’m not particularly discerning about these things (well, maybe about those kisses in the kitchen — there shouldn’t be a limit on those).

I am, however, becoming more and more intentional about noting these moments and being grateful for them. Somehow, they’ve seemed to multiply because of it. Maybe…they were there all along.

What little things make you happy?

2. I’m afraid to cross the street by myself.

3. This is one of my favorite candy bars.

what about you?

Other days it’s a lament: Oh gawd, what am I to do today? And then I go in and love my students, but I don’t have to like them, right?

I entered this field kicking and screaming, and have been in various levels of denial ever since. Still, if you met me at a party and asked me what I do, teacher would roll off my tongue pretty naturally.

I do other things…important things…things that give my life meaning. Anchor me. Keep me sane. They probably make me a better teacher when all is said and done.

But nothing, nothing, makes me crazy like teaching. I’ve tried to walk away from it three times, and failed. I can laugh a little now and say I’m like St. Peter…denying this about myself before finally seeing the truth.

It’s easy to love  teaching when I love it. But here’s the wild part: I still love it when I’m busy hating it.

I’m too drawn to the people, the students, to really walk away. I’d miss too many opportunities to meet people like Miss Ethel and Miss Warnell (they gave me permission for this picture!). They’ve been best friends since before I was born. They’ve raised their kids and their grand kids, and now, they’re in school pursuing their dreams of college.

How could I walk away from smiles like these?