Cranky, begone

Today was _that_ day of the month.

[Ladies, you're with me, I know. The day of the month before the day of the month. The day the hormones kick at your tear ducts and patience meter and cause you to hate everyone from the bus driver (going too slow) to your marketing co-worker (daring to ask for help after 3 p.m.) to the Herald's Howie Carr for his umpteenth year of obtuse, tasteless commentary.]

So refreshing, then, to get the news from my mother that she doesn't have even the slightest bit of cancer in her breast. She's been nonchalantly panicky since her mammogram several weeks ago .... when there was enough of an abnormality to require a biopsy. But the news came back this morning, negative. The good negative.

This news that means I have no right to be crabby.

To prove I'm working on moving my mood correspondingly into positive territory, I give you the lyrics to the song that, when it came over my iPod on tonight's run, made me cry in front of all the Berklee undergrads blocking the sidewalk on Mass Ave.

Cheesy, but perfect.

Happiness

from "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown"

by Clark Gesner

Happiness is finding a pencil,

Pizza with sausage, telling the time.

Happiness is learning to whistle,

Tying your shoe for the very first time.

Happiness is playing the drum in your own school band.

And happiness is walking hand in hand.

Happiness is two kinds of ice cream,

Knowing a secret, climbing a tree.

Happiness is five different crayons,

Catching a firefly, setting him free.

Happiness is being alone every now and then.

And happiness is coming home again.

Happiness is having a sister,

Sharing a sandwich,

Getting along.

Happiness is singing together when day is through,

and happiness is those who sing with you.

Happiness is morning and evening,

daytime and nighttime too.

For happiness is everything and anything at all

That's loved by you.