Trying to Make Lemonade

What am I meant to learn from the challenges being thrown at me these days? That I am strong. That I am loved. That life goes on and can be good. My favorite nephew congratulated me for making lemonade when I'd been handed lemons--not sure his belief about me is justified, but I deeply appreciate the notion. Plus, I have an actual lemon tree in front of the house, so I've been practicing my tangy-beverage making.

My ribs have healed up well. I'd say I'm at about 95%. I'm glad my minor medical matter is clearing up so I can turn my energy to a more major one: Z is scheduled for big-time surgery on March 31. He is calm; I am calm. Aaaaaaack! Oops, I meant of course I'm serene. The procedure he faces, which involves patching up some crucial circulatory parts, is a common one, and the success rate is high. But still. Send good vibes our way, if you'd be so kind.

In other matters, I did run 10 miles Saturday. The run itself went well--I went down to the Bay Trail and into Cesar Chavez Park. It had rained hard Friday night, so there were many puddles. And the birds were ecstatic in the sunshine!

The trails were waterlogged and in some cases completely blocked. I didn't let it stop me, but I did get wet feet.

Sunday morning I woke up feeling crummy. Tired. Whiny. Bad stomach!

Felt bad Monday too, but went to work. Today, Tuesday, I'm coming back to life. Still didn't go for a run, but did take a long walk in the Fruitvale area on my way to a morning appointment. Who knew there were two parks along my route?

One near a fenced-off reservoir, where stately palms paraded...

...and one in a little canyon, where the trees had turned lacy and the birds chirped with joy.

I keep reminding myself that life is good. It is the season of renewal. We're off to see baseball in the Valley of the Sun next week, and I've been prepping this week by watching the WBC. Don't even tell me if you're not watching it. I give you credit for more sense than someone who would miss it!