This morning J began to cry because he didn�t want to go to school. It�s the nap. He is outgrowing his afternoon nap, and he hates lying on his cot doing nothing for two hours every day. (I, on the other hand, would do almost anything for that very same opportunity.) Between sobs, he looked at me with big distraught eyes and asked, �Why is it always just me, mom?� I explained that he�s the oldest kid in the class, so he�s the first to be too big for a daily nap. I saw the relief wash over him, and then he said, �Mom, you un-hurt my feelings!� and hugged me tight.

I got slaughtered in the NCAA pool. I had Kentucky and Stanford in the championship. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, too! But, at least I have the consolation of seeing Kansas in the Sweet Sixteen. And though I did not think they could beat Kentucky, I believe they will whip UAB. (Leave me alone, y�all, I need to believe in something right now.)

Over the weekend I noticed that my thirty-six years are really starting to show on my face. I have the lines and the crepey skin around my eyes, I have the stray black hairs cropping up . . . it�s just not cute, and it�s taking up way too much of my time. I need a magic-bullet eye cream and a discount on laser hair removal. I promise I would stop there and not move on to lipo and chemical peels.

So many things are so hard to accept. Like what�s happening to my face, or the fact that the universe does not owe me a nice happy romance, or the fact that I have absolutely no idea what�s coming down the road at any given instant. I think I would love to be one of those people who are completely at Zen-like peace with whatever drops (or doesn�t drop) into their lives and trust that they will be shown the right path. I mean, okay, they grate on my nerves quite a bit, but they�re clearly onto something.

And here is tomorrow�s horoscope: �Organic fruit does not always look as attractive as the kind which has been grown with the aid of chemicals. It tends to be less plump and perfect, less colourful and less long-lasting. It tastes, though, so much better. Your tongue can tell the difference and your heart, too, feels good for knowing that you are enjoying something which must be better for you. Now, you have a choice; you can 'force feed' a situation; artificially adjusting its shape and character or you can let something happen naturally.�

I promise you, I am not force-feeding anything to anyone. I am doing a fantastic job of standing here with my arms crossed, keeping my mouth shut and trying to look seductive but not scary. Hell, I hardly even pick up the phone these days.

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