Not A Metaphor

I pulled into the parking lot at school and the birch tree in my courtyard was shining and beautiful.  This is not a metaphor for my life right now.  My grandmother Linda always sent out letters about her life that were beautifully composed and depicting an idyllic and beautiful life.  Her diction often inflects my own voice and I always worry about my blog becoming too much like her "Dearly Beloved" Letters -- too Pollyanna.

Good news everyone!  This morning, my life sucks.  It doesn't look or feel beautiful like this really beautiful birch tree.

And I know it's equally bad form to rant on the internet, so I won't go into the details, but when I complained about how parenting was going this morning, my friend C. suggested that it might make a good t-shirt.

I think he's right:

It could also be a pretty cool name for a movie.  Or a punk/folk band?  With a little bit of zydeco influence? 

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