In which I write a Pooh sort of entry

(this is a picture of Drew several years ago in one of the trees that are the view from my porch.)

I went to my thinking spot today, and I was plagued by mosquitoes.

There was nothing but bills in the mail.

And to top it off, a lovely gentleman at the park today commented on Jake's "large, hazel eyes." I knew they wouldn't stay blue.

You can't imagine how much better I am, though, at handling such a day than I used to be. First of all, after years of being told how miserable our attitudes can make other people feel, I finally realized that I care - so I try harder. Secondly, the thinking spot is still wonderful. I just caught it at an awkward moment; we all have them. My spot is my front porch, because from there I can see huge tall trees - which remind me of bigger, stronger things than my troubles - and Dave's house which is like a postcard of all that is sweet and wonderful in the world. It's "not a through street" - does that make sense to big city people? Not that any of them are reading this - but that simply means that it's really just one long block and then you have to turn right or left at one of the ends in order to get anywhere else. Well, that's not a simple way of explaining it, but my point is - it's very quiet, almost like a private drive. I feel like the world can't get me there unless they try very hard, and if they're trying that hard, then I probably want to be gotten anyway. It's a lovely street.

And finally, of course, there's the alive thing - in that, I'm glad I am. So I got through the day not just tolerably but still loving my porch and quite sure that the bills will get paid and absolutely certain that Jake's eyes are beautiful no matter what color you call them. And . . . at least it's not a Wednesday.