Got a Happy Story? Obsessions Edition

When the diary I've been working on for two weeks wasn't where I wanted it by this afternoon, I thought of a conversation I had about baking at the New England kossack meet up last Saturday.  I think it would be fun if we  all swapped stories of the obsessions and compulsions that make us happy.

Obsessions are thoughts or ideas that persistently preoccupy our minds.  Compulsions are actions we feel driven to perform.  I'm not talking about these terms as psychiatric disorders or problematic behaviors.  I mean the things we throw our whole selves into.  Things that become a bit more than a simple hobby.

Got a Happy Story is a community gathering every Friday night where we share stories large and small that have put a smile on our face.  It is a time to acknowledge the joy and wonder we experience.  The Happy Story diary exists as a way to anchor the community in hope and comfort while we do the hard work of taking back our country. Everyone and all sorts of stories and pictures are welcome. May we find joy and strength here.

The earliest obsession I remember was reading.  I loved to disappear into the other worlds provided by books.  When I was in 5th grade I read one of my grandmother's Agatha Christie mysteries.  I was enchanted and set off on a bout of compulsive reading in order to read every book she'd written.  I read during as many waking moments as I possibly could.  I don't read many mysteries these days but I still read every book of an author I like.

I became obsessed with Presidential politics during the primary season of 1980.  My parents had always exposed us to politics and brought us along to campaign events.  But this was the first time I got involved in the process of my own volition.  I became so head over heels enamored with the process that I left my senior year of high school after the New Hampshire primary to volunteer for Ted Kennedy.  Clearly, I still have more than a passing interest in politics.  As Markos said at the opening keynote in Las Vegas, "We're not like other people.  We're obsessed with the political process."

When I was getting sober I found that I had too much free time on my hands.  I was already going to 2 meetings a day so I needed something else.  I decided that it was time to learn how to cook.  When i as younger, I'd used my mother's cookbooks for baking but things didn't always taste the way I thought they should even when I scrupulously followed the recipe.  I found a wonderful cookbook, The Blue Strawberry Cookbook (Cooking Brilliantly Without Recipes), which gave me the confidence to try many things.  I learned how to think through a recipe and give thought to how to enhance the natural flavors of fresh food.  It gave me the ability to adapt any recipe to suit my needs.  Once I made roast pork loin with a rub and a sauce and something else--I have no idea.  It was a combination of two different recipes and my own changes.  Those who'd asked for the recipe declined when they heard that.  Even though I haven't used Haller's cookbook in years, I'm still very fond of it because it taught me to really love preparing food for others.  And I still prefer a cookbook in that uses a witty conversational style rather than exacting and precise terms.

When soberboy was a sickly infant, a coworker of his godmother gave me a very simple pattern and taught me to knit.  I was so happy with the little green sweater I made for soberboy.  I started to find other projects on my own.  I love the colors and textures in yarn stores and I love seeing tangible evidence of the time and effort I've expended.  I found that I really liked the meditative feeling I got from the repetitive motions of working the yarn.  I loved sitting in meetings and knitting because it helped me to focus on the speaker without my mind wandering.  I used to have a project going in 3 different rooms of the house, in the car, and additional projects for vacations or weekend trips.  I don't knit as often anymore but I usually have a simple scarf going in case I need something to occupy my hands.

And I think my current obsession is obvious.  Or as someone said last Saturday, "you're the one with the rowing right?"  That's actually the topic of the diary not quite ready for primetime.  I admired the beauty of rowing when I saw shells on the Charles River as I rode the Red Line from Cambridge to Boston.  I took up the sport in fall 06 and became a total maniac for it by this time last spring.  One of my coaches this year said, "oh I remember you from last year, you'll get into any boat."  And that's totally true.  I have 3 rowing classes a week and I substitute whenever I can.  And I will get into any boat.  In addition to my 3 classes this week, I've rowed in another 4 classes already with another one possible tomorrow.  I should have 9 more classes this month and I'm already scheduled for another 7.  

This morning the water was so flat and calm and we had no wind.  We were rowing with another boat and in between drills we were calling back and forth to each other about how beautiful it was and how perfect the water was.  At the time it was pouring rain, enough so that when my legs were extended puddles formed in the folds of my clothing.  And one of the women said, "do you think there's something wrong with us, that maybe we have some screws loose that we think this is a great day to row?"  I just said, "it doesn't matter since we're all together and all we care about  is that we get to row."  

I think about rowing all the time.  These days, even when I'm walking around the house I examine my posture to train myself out of slouching.  I can feel the residual burn in my quads from the workout.  Today I think I cured myself of my death grip on the oars.  Tomorrow I'm thinking about focusing on lengthening my stroke.  There are days that I can still feel my body wanting, calling out for, the stroke motion even hours later.  I don't see myself losing my passion for this anytime in the near future.  

So what are your happy obsessions?