Alternate Competing Behavior

Little Cuter's friend shared an AA maxim - substitute something novel for your noxious behavior.  (I'm sure that AA says it more gracefully.)

In social work school we called that an alternate, competing behavior.  You can't bite your nails if you are crocheting led to a lifetime of handwork.  You can't be scared if you are laughing led to tickles when a big dog approached The Cuters.   

This morning arrived with the situation unchanged.  Miserable and terrified, I headed to my bi-monthly, 8am, blood pressure check.  That route takes me slightly askew from my usual paths.  My brain was slightly pleased with the different scenery.  

I noticed that fact since, in the past few days my brain hasn't been pleased with anything except video chats with my children and grandchildren.  When I left the office (with, of course, another prescription) I remembered my smile and went straight instead of turning left.  

I went to a new Ace Hardware (not the one that sells ammunition) and asked for help.  The aisles were narrow and crowded with stuff and it had me channeling Daddooooo at his happy place, the local hardware store, Faine and Seville.  

Because it came with a man who, just like Mr. Faine or Mr. Seville, was happy to help, my memories took over at the cash register.  Those were happy times when I was a kid...... and there I was, smiling with the nice lady behind the counter, agreeing that such smiles have been hard to come by lately.

I shopped at the Trader Joe's off the same parking lot.  I never shop at Trader Joe's, though everyone else does (and did..... cf Lady Jane and Scarlet).  I enjoyed a lovely chat over the prepared chickens and meats with a gentleman from Maine.  I always thought TJ's was upscale; he always thought about it at the other end.  No, I didn't know that it was a European company.  Yes, the patrons are friendly.  I bought flowers and veggies and was grinning as I made my way to the car.  

yes, the photo is a little bit tilted... like my world

The drive home had the sun at my back and all the lights falling my way.  I dropped off the groceries and headed out to Oil Stop.  An hour later I was home with a box of donuts (Donut Wheel is right next door, with its sullen window lady and perfect glazed beauties) to try to share some of my smile with TBG.

It wasn't much, but it was something.  Like Charles Bronson in Magnificent Seven, right now, that's a lot.