3 things that are terribly unfair (see also: might die)

Hello, world. Remember how I was all ra-ra, dance like no one's watching yesterday about sugar maple trees? That must have been the Monday girl. Because today's blogger is in a bad way.

Terribly Unfair Thing the First All of my hair is falling out and I'm gaining weight like the wrong kind of loser on Biggest Loser and the mouth-breather on the other line at the doctor's office just waited on the line, snapping her gum, didn't even say hello? HELLO! I THINK MY THYROID IS BROKEN. Please to set up an appointment and please to not judge me on my insurance plan. Southern hospitality, my hat. Shoulda just bought the Groupon for hair loss treatment and called it a day.

Terribly Unfair Thing the Second Have you ever tried to contain a 4 year-old boy in a public place where running is not an option? Remember how well that went? Four year-old son was all thinking the velvet ropes at the bank were the Olympic bars and the whole space was basically set up for the 100 yard dash, right? So then you go and sign up for a Fun Run with the same lad. All the kool kats from school are there at the starting line. Runners take their makrs. Your son is wearing a fierce headband and the sun is shining and the atmosphere is equally sunny. YOU ARE GOING TO ROCK THIS RACE. Then your son, who is 100% Tasmanian Devil when not sleeping, cannot run. Everyone else is motoring around the race course and your son just wants to hold your hand and caboose it. He's walking so slow he's practically crawling. His face says, please carry me, his legs say, please seat me over there with the oxygen tank draggers. By the time you cross the finish line it is already time to file your taxes.

Terribly Unfair Thing the Third

I have spent the better part of the last week meeting with my Aflac rep (quack) and filing claims for my accident policy. I am way too young for this biz. Sadder still is how excited I am when I've successfully filed the claim. Like, I'm legit geeked when I get the message that "your claim is complete." If this is what dazzles me in my mid-twirties, what else is there to look forward to in life? Colonoscopies? Blockbuster sale on wheat germ at GNC? Ken Burns taking on Alan Greenspan for PBS?

Hand me that new Taylor Swift album. I just gotta shake off all this injustice...and #firstworldproblems

The sugar maple trees that are changing (us)

There are some sugar maples not far from my kids' school that are changing. They're changing form and color and they are changing the little community in which we live.

I see our friends post on instagram how grateful they are to have these giving trees in which their kids can play in the leafpiles. They share snapshots of the trees, their tops starting to shed, suddenly looking immodest as if Autumn were the worst kind of closet-raider.

The sugar maple tree in itself has a lovely shape. Strong but elegant, the kind you want to capture in a silhouette and put on a wedding invitation.

I have a colleague who knows plantlife and he was the one told me the trees were the sugar maples. I am not very good with botany or ID-ing arbors. I am not typically observant of details--I am more intuitive, feeling the changing of seasons in my bones first and then with my eyes.  But it seems that everyone has been noticing these gorgeous sugar maples in front of the school. Men, women, children, the trees are the talk of the town.

I took my lunch break to capture these images. I've worked at places where taking a lunch anywhere other than in your cubicle was practically an act of civil disobedience. And if stomping around on school grounds to admire some sugar maples is wrong, then I don't want to be right.

I'm not about to go all The Lorax on you or make reference to #leafporn. I just want to share how this feels. I cannot remember the last time a community (e.g. a neighborhood, a school, a workplace, a family) was abuzz about something marvelous. Usually the trending topic, the Facebook feed is rife with scandal, controversy, shocking statistics. It's rare for our eyes to be collectively pointed to beauty.

I just want to be swept up in the autumnal adoration, especially because I can't remember the last time we were all rallying around the glory of leaves.

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I can't remember the last time the word on the street was, "Wow.

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EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT.

  I just want to stand at the end of the hallway and not look down its grand master corridor of tasks and forget-me-nots and stalling tactics of little sleep gangsters and not be filled with dread. I just want one night where it all goes perfectly robotically well.

Oh, your children are sleeping the sleep of snoring dwarves by 6:30 p.m. every evening? Our friendship is now in jeopardy.