Mowed. Weed whacked. Edged. Pruned.

Puked. Keeled Over. Shivered and trembled and sweated galore.

B salvaged the day by playing Scrabble with me. We each won a game. I felt after such trauma I should have won both. B disagreed. Scrabble does have curative properties even if I lose.

While I cried my way through the yard work, wishing ever so fervently for a life less difficult, I forgot that at least I have a friend who will carve out time from her very, very busy life to give me a fix or two. To say, I love you, but humbling me with her creative intelligence.