Gorgeous Red Sun

It consumed most of the horizon as Drew and I headed for the library to print his papers (he had all week, why didn't he take care of this sooner??!!Wait until 6am on Monday morning????) It was the largest fiery-red orb I had seen in some time, sitting right on the horizon where sky and land kiss. Huge. For a moment you thought you were in a sci-fi movie seeing the landscape on Jupiter or somewhere.

By the time we had picked up the carpoolers, it had lifted slightly from the edge of the world, and hung suspended a few feet above the housetops, still large, still glaringly orange-red. I gazed sleepily as I listened to the high school girl's iPod - so loud I could clearly hear her music (what must that be doing to her ears!). She impatiently listened to only the first few minutes of a dozen different songs, not happy with anything, interrupting her search to text a friend repeatedly (talk about isolation! not only does she not connect with the people in the car, she doesn't even want a decent conversation with her friend - just a few scattered symbols to semi communicate some brief feeling).

I dropped the kids off and headed for StarBucks. I feel like a treat, and a scone might be just the ticket. Alas, the lines are too long and anyways, I shouldn't throw money away unnecessarily. So I swallow my disappointment (along with my drool) and head to Strong Hospital to the lab to donate my monthly 2 tubes for various tests and whatnot.

Perhaps it will trigger some leech response and take away the exhaustion I am hoping won't hit today. I grow concerned about the aching in my throat. Not a soreness, but a muscle ache that doesn't seem to want to go away. I chalk it up to the power of suggestion with all this talk of swollen lymph nodes and neck biopsies. All the same, I notice it. Rather like having someone's fingers clamped around your neck.

Once again I enter that other world of crippled, disfigured, in-pain sad humans relegated to the agony of medical land. I pray for each person I pass, check in at the lab registration window and sit to await my turn. I am in no hurry. I don't have to be to work until noon. I fiddle with my Blackberry, checking email, jotting notes of things I need to take care of. They call me fairly soon.

The technician pats my arm repeatedly, poking, probing with expertise all the while joking about his height (he is probably over six foot) and the benefits thereof. It takes him way longer to figure out where to stick me than to draw the blood, but he gets in first stick.

On my way out, I decide to be lazy and take the elevator to my car waiting quietly for me on the fifth level of the parking garage. Normally I would walk up the stairs, but I must conserve energy today. I might not have enough. I instantly regret getting into the elevator. It is crammed with wheelchairs, walkers, little kids, and one hugely overweight gentleman. I want to get off, but the doors close and I am trapped. We stop on every floor.

I realize the little boy beside me is looking out the window, not at the door, and I follow his eyes to the sky. There it is, the sun I have been watching all morning, looking for all the world like a normal small yellow sun. Shoot. And Hallelujah.

Blue skies, no wind, a few clouds, and glorious sun. What a great spring day. I step off the elevator and hear birds singing. February my fanny. Red sky at morn, sailors be warned, not likely. At least at the moment. Enjoy it. You don't get many red ball days.