So we woke up this morning on a Sunday like a thousand other Sundays, and I gather no one I know won that Powerball lottery. Yesterday I bought my very first ticket on the way to Oliver's baseball game, along with a glazed jelly donut and an iced coffee (with whole milk). I figured that if I won, tomorrow, I'd have the availability to hire a personal trainer. Today, no one I know won the six hundred million dollars, it's half-sunny out, the fejoya tree is heavy with fruit that no one likes, and I have to bake a chocolate cake with milk chocolate frosting. I'll need to get some exercise and do some laundry, War and Peace is languishing on my bed, I'll avoid The New York Times so that I don't have to read about the IRS, and I'll probably curse under my breath a few times in irritation at some thing or another, and then I'll finger some beads and pray that a job will fall into my lap tomorrow morning. Sophie will have no more seizures, Oliver's eyes will suddenly let go of words that writhe and hide, Henry will hit consistent home runs, The Husband will decide that I am a goddess, and I? I will stand like a tree first and then fly.