Hello, I’m Lucy of Lulastic and the Hippyshake.
Big thanks to Bex for having me over while she gallivants around on her jollydays. Nope, not jealous at all. *swings on the curtains and drinks Bex’s orange juice straight from the carton in spite* It has been a treat having a little think about the things that make me happy. I tried to avoid just saying chocolate and crisps because that would have been the worst guest post ever…
What makes me happy?
Seeing my toddler Ramona learn to jump.. She has been working on this for a month or so, and still hasn’t quite nailed the two-feet-off-the-ground-at-the-same-time angle. I love to watch her do this, she throws EVERY molecule of energy into this movement, crouches low, thrusts her body up, arms in the air. To all effect and purpose she is failing at jumping, but actually she is having a brilliant time and I am laughing my socks off with joy – success is so overrated. It is a lesson for life.
Making makes me happy. I am sure we are all made to make. Not in a capitalist, industrious way but in a weaving beauty kind of a way. Creating stuff gives us purpose and life and connects our souls to mystery and meaning. Sometimes I feel a bit in a fug, emotionally dry and also sometimes slightly drained by the spectatorship of the internet – whipping something up, even just a 5 minute number, injects me with energy again. Like steroids, pretty much. I love beautiful fabric in my hands, the pounding crank of my old sewing machine, cutting out pictures and words, giving old stuff a new lease, seeing something come together.
People, people make me happy. (Apart from the ones that really annoy me BAHAHA. Like the ones that let their dog take a dump in the park and don’t clean it up and then your toddler thinks about eating it. Or even just colleagues who don’t do a “courtesy flush” – you know the flush you do a millisecond after your poo so that the smell doesn’t fill the communal loo? You don’t do that? You need to sort that right out.) So. Nice people. Yesterday our neighbours bought us round a pizza. Who does that? Our neighbours do. They are three ancient sisters from Tobago who have all lived together there for fifty years and they always drop in with random items- strawberries, half a bag of donuts, a beanie for Ramona. Is that the most happy-making thing in the world or what? I honestly just think people are brilliant and I hope my heart (often cynical by default) never hardens to them. Having neighbours like this helps with that.
Do you know what else makes me happy? My home. Oof, I have never really been a homebody. I had lived in six different houses by the time I was 10. So I have been surprised by how much in love I have become as a grown up with the corners that surround me. About a year after moving into our house we decided to get rid of the magnolia paint we had felt coerced by the eventual pressure to sell our house into using, and instead left the walls in their concrete nudity, covered the surfaces with stuff from the street and found all our furniture from charity shops. And now it is exactly how we want it, and every day it kind of evolves into something else. These days our home is a little exercise in freedom from convention.