Despite waking at the ungodly hour, again, of 5:15 and lying in bed thinking the dire thoughts -- health insurance payments, the financial future, being house rich and cash poor, marriage, children, college, seizures, colonoscopy (I must make that appointment) -- and then reading dire articles about environmental disaster, rampant consumerism stealing our futures (why? why do I read these things?), I got up. I drove Henry to his conditioning practice, had breakfast with an old friend who I haven't seen or talked to in months, came home and worked with Oliver for several hours, engaged The Husband to pick Sophie up from school as she was having multiple seizures (sigh), did some contractual work for The Job and am now going to the Science Center with Oliver.
Oh, the whole aim of this post was to exclaim and be grateful for the poinsettia tree that is in bloom right around the corner from me. I hate poinsettias -- those little red things that come in pots at Trader Joe's every Christmas season, that live forever after Christmas and that I throw out, eventually, consumed with guilt. I walked out of the house to clear my head this morning and mail the bills (health insurance, medical marijuana, the financial future) and walked right by this tree. Isn't it beautiful? I figure that if you can hate a poinsettia plant and love the tree, all is right with the world, as it is.
