This afternoon I met some friends at a Christmas drop-in party and–quite frankly–stuffed my face with Fritos and ranch dip. My rationalization being 1) I only had a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast and 2) it’s the holidays. What, like I’m going let the birth of our Lord and Savior come and go without celebrating with guacamole? (I would never.) Plus, I didn’t know at the time that my friends were going to invite me out for pizza immediately after I finished my second helping of cheddar cheese cubes.

And that I would accept and eat four pieces of pizza.

While we were out to eat, my friend Aaron, who’s a graphic designer, drew a logo of sorts (pictured up top) for Me and My Therapist (the blog, not the people). I can’t tell you how excited I was. Granted, it may have been the coffee I was drinking, but still. “It’s my first fan art!” I said. Then I added, “That only took 997 days.”

When we left the restaurant, Aaron, his wife Kate, their son, and I went to a local park to look at lights and ride the train. (The park has a kid-sized choo-choo, but adults can ride too, provided they’re okay with having their knees tucked into their chins.) Unfortunately, the train wasn’t running tonight. And whereas his son didn’t seem to care (he’s four), Aaron said, “I’m disappointed. These are horrible holiday hours!”

Regrouping, we looked at lights and played on the swing set. Y’all, you should have seen their son. He was RIDICULOUSLY happy. I kept thinking, We make it so complicated, but joy really is a simple thing. A natural thing. Granted, two minutes earlier the kid was screaming bloody murder over not wanting to wear his toboggan, but maybe there’s a lesson there too. Something bothering you? Pitch a fit. Get it over with. Then move on with your life. Never speak of it again. Instead, find something to be happy about.

A swing set, maybe.

When we left the park, the four of us went back to Aaron and Kate’s house for “hot chocky,” also known as hot chocolate. This is one thing I love about having friends with a four year old. Everything’s a game. The world is new and exciting. “I’m going to take a bath!” my little friend said. “Then I’m going to put on my pajamas!” This is what I’m talking about. Making the ordinary extraordinary.

When we were at the park Aaron stepped in dog crap, and–because Aaron and Kate said their house was a no dookie zone–their son made up a song about it–“No Dookie House.” Well, the next thing I knew, Aaron, his son, and I were doing a Facebook Live video in which we all sang the song. (If you’d like to sing along, the words are “no dookie house, no dookie house, no dookie house.”) Talk about turning lemons into lemonade.

This is the power of perspective.

Kate said my blog tonight should be titled NO DOOKIE HOUSE or DON’T BE A SALTY BITCH, which is what the side of her son’s hot chocolate mug said tonight. The joke being the mug had a picture of the Morton Salt Girl on it along with that saying. (Don’t worry, Focus on the Family, the kid can’t read yet.) And whereas I haven’t decided WHAT I’m going to call the blog tonight (that’s one of the last things I do), I think either would be appropriate. Like, for NO DOOKIE HOUSE, don’t bring crap that belongs outside your home inside. I’m speaking of both your physical home and your emotional home (your heart). Have some boundaries. Give yourself the luxury of a drama-free zone.

For DON’T BE A SALTY BITCH, I’d say, “Don’t be a salty bitch–all the time.” Because, let’s face it, a little saltiness, a little flavor, never hurt anyone. This being said, we all know people who abuse the privilege, people who bitch and moan and gripe and complain and simply refuse to be satisfied no matter what. To say the least, this is unfortunate. Yes, life is hard. Sometimes we step in shit and then step in shit again. I’m not suggesting you be happy about your challenges. But I am suggesting that whatever is under your skin does’t have to stay there until you die. No matter what’s happened to you, you don’t have to go through life bitter and angry and jealous. You’re allowed to let go, to move on, to forgive. Not for anyone else, but for you. I highly suggest you do this–whatever it takes. Because you only have one life, and there are swing sets still to play on.