Swimming in a river of happy

Went for a walk. Prayed for endorphins. Isn't that what you're supposed to get from exercise? My actual prayer went something like...

Lord, please bring on the endorphins. Pour a bucket of endorphins over me.
I want to drink a couple of gallons of happy juice. I want to sink into a tub
filled with endorphins, to slide underneath the surface and be immersed. I want
to rub endorphins all over me like I used to apply baby oil to get a tan while
sizzling in the sun during teenage summers. I want to roll in it like a pile of
these leaves that are falling from the trees. Bring it on, Lord. Bring it on!

Now I'm back home and watching Oprah. She's interviewing the police officers who shot down the killer at Ft. Hood. And now she's talking to the lady who had her face eaten off by a chimp. So jeeze. Really. I have an amazing life and I'm grateful. No really. I felt that way BEFORE Oprah. But endorphins come in handy some days. That and chocolate. And a swift kick of reality.