The Most Overdetermined Day

Well, Succotash, here we are. The senna tea kicked in around 7 this morning, which means that while I'm not as rested as one might wish, I'm also much less uncomfortable in the midsection. Thank God.

Last night we went to a fun and raucous seder at your would-be aunt's house in Brooklyn, which is something of a trope. Loading into the car with the big soup pot and all the haggadahs and driving an hour to Brooklyn. It's Passover, that's what we do. A plague of taxicabs harries the people of Israel.

I was tired from all the drugs, and so lay down in the den while your would-be father helped her get everything ready. There were plastic jumping frogs on the table for everyone to play with. I got a nice picture of everyone with wine glasses raised, but I would have liked to get one speckled with airborne plastic frogs.

And now it's today. With grumpily moving bowels and a small bowl of cottage cheese with strawberries. I've walked the dog and determined it's cooler out than I thought. Today's outfit will be jeans with new leather jacket, rather than dress with bare legs. A little too chilly for bare legs still. But it's okay.

Now I have to get in the shower and dress and go downtown for acupuncture appointment number one. Then I will have a couple of hours to kill before all however many of you are still hanging on today - up to five, Dr. Big Guns says, which is a staggering number, but then again, I'm old - will be transferred into the center of myself.

I have a playlist. I've added "Song for a Future Generation," by the B-52s. I hope this doc will let me play music like the last one did.

Then it will be straight back downtown for acupuncture number 2. And then, home. And tonight at 7, another shot.

Your would-be father is in town this time, so I'm deciding if he should come along for our appointment this afternoon. There's nothing much for him to do, but it seems too early to shut him out from an enterprise that will, at least initially, largely be conducted between you and me. We don't want him to be left out, Succotash. You're his bowl of carrots and corn and lima beans too.

Today is the third day of Passover. It's also Easter. And it's April Fool's Day. And it's my father's seventy-second birthday. A more overdetermined date for our transfer I could not have come up with. If I'd put this into a novel it would have been redlined as trite. But real life is like that sometimes. Sometimes you go hunting for Easter eggs on many levels, all at once, never sure what you're going to find.