Keep Hunting by Liz Flaherty

Sometimes you just have nice things happen. Isn't it great when they do? Yeah, I'm going to do the Pollyanna thing again. And, please, feel free to join in. I've read recently that blogs are dead--please, no!--and I don't think they are, but commenting isn't very healthy anymore. I miss that. But, anyway...Pollyanna...

On Thursday night, we went to Ole Olsen and saw Drinking Habits in the dinner theater performance. We got to sit with friends, catch up with friends we hadn't seen for a long time, eat a delicious meal from Club 14 and laugh so hard that my stomach hurt. (That could have been the turtle cheesecake on top of that delicious meal I just mentioned, but I'm not going to admit that.) 

The play will be on tomorrow and next Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (matinee). If you don't have your tickets yet, call 765-472-3690 and leave a message or go to https://www.onthestage.tickets/ole-olsen-memorial-theatre Don't miss it...don't even be late. I was singing that right there--did you hear me? No? You're welcome.

Then, last night, my daughter Kari and I went to Beef & Boards in Indianapolis and saw Hello, Dolly. Even without me singing along (I think they were okay with that--what is it with people and my singing?), the cast did a great job. Once again, the food was good and the service was great. We made new friends at the table next to us and someone thought Kari and I were sisters. I mean, maybe they didn't really think that, but I accepted it gracefully anyway.

One day this week, it was 70-some degrees, the kind of warmth that sits gently on your skin and lets hope dance around your soul. Admittedly, the wind blew that warmth all over the place, but it still felt good. Still smelled good. Still made me think spring really is here somewhere, greening up the grass and inviting color to pop joyfully out of the ground. 

Three of our grandkids have had birthdays in the past 10 days--one of them is today. Their birthdays always make me think of them when they were little--Tierney only a few weeks old napping on Duane's chest and them snoring together; Fionnegan at five in Ireland, laughing so hard when he and his dad jumped out from behind a post; Eamon not yet old enough to walk, solemn-faced, bobbing his head with the music. The joy of those memories makes my eyes a little leaky but my heart so glad.

On Facebook, I saw where two scared little boys knocked on someone's door and received the kind of help frightened children everywhere should get without even asking. It would be better if children weren't frightened at all, but when they are...when they are...we need to fix it. My thanks as a nana to the person who protected them.

Sunrise was orange this morning. The colors in the sky are so amazing this year. I think I probably say that every spring, but this time, I really mean it. And next time, I will mean it even more.  

There is much to mourn in the world, much to generate anger (and many to proliferate it avidly), much to create the sadness that does its best to squash that dancing hope. 

But there's still the orange, still glorious music, still stomach-wrenching laughter, still people who protect children. As Eleanor H. Porter wrote in Pollyanna, “... there is something about everything that you can be glad about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it.”

Be glad this week. Seek out the orange, thank the givers and the doers, sing along (it's Brandi Carlile and me this morning--I think she's probably a little better), laugh hard, find the joy. Be nice to somebody.