It's official: I'm not an optimist.

I went on an all-day field trip yesterday with fifty 12- 13-, and 14-year olds. The odyssey went like this: hour-long car drive with five teenage boys to Tiburon, ferry trip to Angel Island, 6-mile hike with two snack breaks, ferry trip back to Tiburon, car drive home. One would think that agreeing to do this would make me, if not an optimist then, at least positive, but several times my son's teacher--a very cheerful and optimistic woman--mentioned, in the kindest, cheerful, optimistic and sarcastic way what  a sunny disposition I have. I don't remember what I said to elicit these responses. Well, I remember one thing. A kid was complaining about his sore neck. One mom said it might be his heavy backpack (we were instructed to bring BIG lunches.) Cheery teacher mentioned that he might have slept wrong. I said it was possibly meningitis.

I am not a chihuahua.

I am cynical, like Dylan. It's not an entirely bad thing, is it?

We were blessed with beautiful weather. Imagine what I would have been like had it rained as the weather service predicted? There was enough complaining already (and not from me).

I went to the doctor for a check up and I'm officially ten pounds heavier than I was three years ago. She suggested sorbet instead of ice cream (again). I said that when I have a part-time job with great benefits that pays $100K a year AND a book deal we'll talk about my diet.

Having major fantasies about two weeks in a remote cabin with electricity and no internet to do the final edits on my novel and whip out a synopsis.