“But about a month before my friend Pammy died, she said something that may have permanently changed me. We had gone shopping for a dress for me to wear that night to a nightclub with the man I was seeing at the time. Pammy was in a wheelchair, wearing her Queen Mum wig, the Easy Rider look in her eyes. I tried on a lavender minidress, which is not my usual style. I tend to wear big, baggy clothes. People used to tell me I dressed like John Goodman. Anyway, the dress fit perfectly, and I came out to model it for her. I stood there feeling very shy and self-conscious and pleased. Then I said, ‘Do you think it makes my hips look too big?’ and she said to me slowly, ‘Annie? I really don’t think you have that kind of time.’”
–Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

The most idiosyncratic and cryptic of “My Twelve Commandments” (see left column) is “Spend out.” What does that mean?

I have a miserly nature; by spending out, I mean to stop hoarding, to trust in abundance.

I find myself saving things, even when it makes no sense. Right now I’m forcing myself to spend out by wearing my new underwear.

Last week, as part of my July “buy a white t-shirt” campaign, I went to buy new underwear. When I got home, I forced myself to toss out my sorry old pairs, because I could feel myself tempted to “save” the new underwear. And indeed, even though the old underwear is gone, I find myself re-wearing the same laundered new pairs, so that I can “save” the new ones that are still neatly folded, with their tags on.

Why buy new clothes and then “save” them for months? Not wearing clothes is just as wasteful as throwing them away.

I have a great set of bookmarker pens—flat pens that can be stuck in a book, so that you can take notes as well as mark your place. I love them so much that I leave them in the case. That’s crazy—spend out, use them!

I once went to a bridal shower where every guest was given a black umbrella with a handle made from an old piece of silver, with the guest’s initial on it (zoikes). I loved my umbrella so much that I didn’t open it for three years. Finally I started to use it, and about 18 months later, the umbrella broke. But it was far better to use the umbrella, and enjoy it, than to have it sit in the closet.

I need to spend out by throwing things away. I re-use razor blades too many times, I keep my toothbrushes for too long. There is a virtue and a joy to frugality, and there is a preppy wabi-sabi to soft, faded khakis and frayed cotton shirts, but it’s not nice to be surrounded by things that are truly worn out or stained or used up.

And spend out applies to creativity as well as to possessions. I find myself thinking, “I should save that story…” or “I don’t want to use all my best examples now…” But pouring out ideas is better for creativity than doling them out by the teaspoon.

My post on Wednesday was a perfect example. I had a lot of fun working on the organization quiz. But when I considered posting it, I had to fight the urge to hold it back. What am I waiting for? I’m reminded of tagline for the Broadway show Rent—which gave me a shock every time it blasted out at me from the ubiquitous taxi ads—No day but today.

*

I’m leaving tomorrow for vacation, so this will be my last post for a week. Last night, in a happiness-project inspired act, I went ahead and packed for me, the Little Girl, and the Big Girl, so I have today to worry about hunting down the odds and ends.

Because I’ve been reading so much non-fiction about happiness, I haven’t been reading many novels lately. So for vacation I’m taking Marilynne Robinson’s Housekeeping (I loved Gilead); Benjamin Disraeli’s Coningsby (ever since I wrote Forty Ways to Look at Winston Churchill, I’ve been meaning to read Disraeli); Mrs. Gaskell’s Wives and Daughters (about time I read something by her); Philip Roth’s American Pastoral (I’m not a big Roth fan, but several people have told me they think it’s the best novel of the 20th century); and as a special treat, Vikram Chandra’s Sacred Games (not yet published, supposed to be superb, I got a copy of the galley).

Looking at this list, I realize—am I crazy? We’re only going away for a week, and chasing around after a seventeen-month-old is hardly compatible with doing a lot of serious reading. Oh well, I’ll try. But I think the Big Man will have to carry that duffel bag.

My resolution for June was to “Eat a peach”—embrace adventure, push myself to my limits, aim higher, indulge my interests.

And a focus for “Eat a peach” is this blog. I’m technologically very backward, and when I try to monkey around in the internet world, I’m often overwhelmed with the nasty feelings of stupidity and helplessness. Nevertheless, I vowed to persist in improving my site. Recently I’ve had three successes.

The first success was managing to change my URL to www.happiness-project.com from www.happinessproject.typepad.com. That original URL was just too long, and I didn’t like having the word “typepad” there. It took me five separate “help-tickets” from Typepad support to coach me through the process, but I stuck with it.

Second, a reader emailed me to suggest that in the Wednesday Tips section of the left column, instead of listing the dates and subjects of the lists, I should make the list into links. That way readers could instantly zap their way to a particular list, instead of having to hunt it down through the archive.

I read his email with a sigh. Of course, he was right. But how to do it? It only required one day and one help-ticket to get that done.

And today, after two help-tickets, I’m inserting my first image. Like so many of these tasks, it wasn’t hard—once I knew what to do.
Anyone who knows anything is chuckling in amusement at the fact that I’m congratulating myself for such very simple tasks—but for me, they count as successes. Each time I look at the blog, I get a little jolt of satisfaction.

Making tangible progress toward a concrete goal is a great contributor to happiness, so it’s important to incorporate that into your day, whether as part of work (as in my blog upgrades), or as part of a hobby (gardening, collecting, crafts).

Your goal needs to be clearly defined, to give you the satisfaction of recognizing your progress. In fact, studies show that those who frame their goals in concrete terms are 50% more likely to feel confident that they’ll hit those goals, and 32% more likely to feel in control of their lives.

Seeing things take shape under your hand, making things better, is enormously gratifying. Even if you deem the final goal to be fairly insignificant—cleaning a closet, organizing fishing tackle, building a bird house—the boost to happiness can be quite significant.

My next goal? Figure out Technorati.

weblog; goals, plans, hopes; happiness

Usually Wednesday is Tip Day, but surprise, today is a quiz instead.

Most people understand that it’s a pain to be disorganized. Disorganized people spend a lot of time hunting for their keys; they have to order a replacement birth certificate; they know they must have a dozen hammers, because it’s always been easier to buy a new one than to locate one in the house.

Often, however, people don’t realize how disorganized they are. Are you? Take this quiz.

At a minimum, you should know exactly where to find these possessions (assuming, of course, you own them—and you should):

 stamps
 your passport and if you’re married, your spouse’s passport
 a corkscrew
 Bandaids
 a safety pin
 a flashlight
 a functioning alarm clock
 paperclips or a stapler
 your phone charger
 a spare set of keys
 your doctor’s phone number
 cinnamon
 your tax statements from 2003
 fabric stain remover
 a pair of mittens
 spare AA batteries

Congratulate yourself for being well-organized if you can also say exactly where you’d find these objects:

 a tape measure
 your high-school yearbook
 a Swiss army knife
 a pencil sharpener
 a copy of Pride and Prejudice or The Da Vinci Code
 the instruction manual for your camera
 silver polish
 a vase the proper size to hold a bunch of tulips
 food coloring
 a tube of lip balm
 a cheese knife
 an extension cord
 a recipe for a favorite food your mother or father used to make
 a pack of playing cards
 a pad of sticky notes (Post-Its)

One observation: disorganized people often aim to put things away approximately. They’ll keep something “in a kitchen drawer” or “in my office.” It’s much more satisfying to put things away in an exact location—like a particular kitchen drawer. It takes some effort, at first, to decide where everything belongs, but once you’ve put objects in their proper places, it’s much easier to return them there.

organization, daily life, clutter

For years, I’ve been conscientiously maintaining our photo albums. I use them as a kind of family diary, to capture little family jokes or funny incidences as well as the usual round of birthday party, Christmas morning, and vacation scenes.

I performed this task with a fair amount of grumbling—no one cared, no one helped, no one appreciated what a big job it was, no one ever cooperated when I wanted to take pictures, the Big Man wouldn’t even help write captions, blah, blah.

As part of the Happiness Project, however, I’ve admonished myself to do such tasks (sending out our annual Valentine’s cards, buying baby gifts for friends, paying bills) without expecting appreciation. I should do them for myself. This sounds like a selfish approach, but in fact, it’s less selfish, because it means I don’t wait for praise or recognition.

Nevertheless, the whole elaborate photo album process had begun to seem a bit futile, as the fat albums sat neglected on the shelves.

But at last all that hard work is paying off. For the last several days, the Big Girl and even the Little Girl have been poring over the albums, going through each one several times (the Little Girl has been wreaking some damage, but nothing that can’t be fixed). The Big Girl loves to see pictures of herself as young as the Little Girl, and to see herself wearing the adorable outfits that the Little Girl is wearing now. The Little Girl shrieks with excitement each time she spots a familiar face.

Advice often given to a parent—and it’s just as useful for a spouse—is to be a storehouse for happy memories for the family.

Research has shown that depressed people have as many nice experiences as other people, but they don’t remember them as well. And even for people who aren’t depressed, thinking back on happy times elevates mood.

Observing and preserving memories is one of the most satisfying ways of bringing order to life. Both the process of preparing the albums (though I did complain) and looking back at them were deeply gratifying.

Looking back at photographs is always fun; it’s fascinating to see the appearances of children (and myself! the Big Man always looks the same) change over time.

Also, it scares me to realize just how little of my own past I remember.

Looking at the photographs helps keep my memories more active, as I recall the little details that seemed unforgettable, but fade so quickly: how the Big Man used to make rice pudding all the time, and how he used to swim for exercise; how tiny the Big Girl was when she was born (four pounds, four ounces) and how she used to love to see people pretend to cry; and how the Little Girl loves to show off her belly button, and how she looked before any of her teeth grew in.

How wistful I was when I no longer had my sweet toothless baby! It makes me happy that, at least, I still have the photos.