Get Used To It
By Margaret Young
Wake up, even Monday the cup's still full,
lettuce rosette-ing up between sandstone scraps
by back steps where ladybugs swarm in
to die or lay eggs, some say, death-march
or birth-march looking about the same.
The rust of barn-sides: different chemical effect
than rust of oak-copse, burning with late fervor
beyond reaped cornfields.
I spent the morning doing laundry and other chores while Adam went with my father to play tennis. Then, after lunch, Adam and I went to pick up Daniel from college orientation -- the Beltway was kind to us but I got utterly lost trying to find the parking lot once we were on campus (you'd think something as large as the Comcast Center would be difficult to hide behind a farm). Daniel was in a good mood although he had blisters from walking several miles all over the area in sandals; he's been wearing those instead of sneakers because they're easier to get on and off with his arm in a splint, and we didn't think about the fact that he'd need sneakers and socks to cover both the very large campus and off-campus shopping on Route 1. He is currently signed up for six classes, which I hope is not too many!
My dermatologist called to tell me that the mole he almost didn't bother to remove last week was mildly abnormal; the last one was moderately abnormal, so this is actually an improvement, but considering that it was on my back in an area usually covered by a bra strap or bathing suit and can't possibly have been exposed to the sun much in my adult life, I am disturbed that it was up to anything at all. I have a bit of a headache from the 92-degree heat in which we had to hike around campus carrying Daniel's luggage and from the thunderstorm that rolled through at dinnertime, though Jon Stewart punishing himself for mocking everyone in politics so Fox News knows how fair he is has made me feel better. Here are some of the animals that were adorable at South Mountain Creamery last weekend: