Fourish

So what do you do when you wake up at four a.m.? The disciplined among us (we hate them, do we not?) might put in thirty minutes of yoga, with perhaps prayer or meditation, maybe read the Bible or another inspirational book that's just lying around. Then a wholesome breakfast and catch up on the news while the sun rises.

Ha.

I wake up at 4 and get up at 4:20 when it is obvious that Hypnos has fled for the time being. (Oh, he'll return, right after lunch, as usual.) I call the emergency clinic to see if Max, the reason I woke up, has gone in. No, he hasn't, so that's good news. I don't like the ones that get sick at the end of the day; I can't spend enough time with them and I sort of like to hover when they're like that.

Check email.

Cruise the news sites. On the heels of a debate over Tylenol in children on my homeschooling list I see that cold medicines for infants are being pulled off the market. Glad I don't have little kids anymore; it's too confusing out there. Head over to Slate magazine: looks like Rudy is doing well, according to some. I skip through a political blog there, catch a Doonesbury comic.

Move on to Salon. Oliver Sacks has a new book out. Browse some of the articles in the Life section. Reading about cereal makes me think that breakfast can't be too far away, so I heat up some tea and Poptarts. Time out to worry about everything causing cancer, wonder who'll be selected today for the Nobel Peace Prize, and a bit of relief that I'm not the only mom who never could think of anything clever for Barbie to say.

Read the comics, finish my tea, play one hand of Spider Solitaire, start the day.