Bag of good thoughts

Some mornings coffee just doesn't do it. Most of the time, caffeine certainly serves as the early morning elixir for grouches. The first sip starts the process, and four jolts later, the brain has come alive and all gears are full speed ahead with positive expectations for the new day ahead. At least, that's been my experience.

There are those times, though, that a combination of events can stifle even the effects of high-octane caffeine. In my case, the number-one perennial nemesis for a good swig of caffeine is the weather. And, in today's case, the confluence of a new blanket of snow with the reality that there is no joy in Zagdom has rendered my coffee powerless. I'm a grouch looking for therapy.

I think a lot has to do with the letdown after a gorgeous spring day filled with sunshine, singing birds, dirt digging in a new garden bed, and trips to the house to watch segments of the NCAA games, one of which included a victorious Washington State University. Add to that a tasty meal of slow-baked chicken smothered in barbecue sauce, doctored-up Bush baked beans, garlic bread and steamed baby carrots swimming in a pool of garlic margarine.

These carrots were not just any carrots. These dainty beauties came from the ground at the Lovestead quite by accident. While I was spading the garden bed around the dog kennel, the day before yesterday, something orange appeared in the dirt. It was the lower end of a carrot sliced off by the shovel's sharp edge. Taking care from that point on, I uncovered about a dozen slender carrots that I had planted last July.

The winter had been good to them, so I announced to Bill yesterday morning that dinner would revolve around those orange veggies----the first actual produced planted by Loves at the Lovestead. Bill seemed genuinely excited, saying that he'd even bypass the soup buffet at the Presbyterian Lenten service in favor of those carrots.

They did not disappoint, and so a perfect day continued as did the expectation for the big game with the team that our family has followed all season with such loyalty, admiration and excitement. It was evident from the start that what was once known as the Cinderella team was turning orange, not like my lovely carrots, but like the fabled pumpkin. The Zags dance performance lacked those glass slippers that have brought so much joy to so many.

When it was over, I did what I've done throughout my life on similar occasions. I attempted to stifle my disappointment, thinking tomorrow's another day. Spring is here. Even greener grass, more sunshine and plenty of time to keep digging away at that new garden bed would be enough drown the sorrows of the Zags demise. I went to bed sure of that.

This morning, when Bill told me it was snowing outside, I groaned. When I went outside into the darkness and found it tempered by a vast white blanket, I groaned some more. I read the paper and the commentary on last night's game. The sportswriters sounded as bleak as I felt. And, now an hour or so later, the white blanket still remains. Mama said there'd be days like this . . . .

Those of us who've lived a day or two know that on days like this we must reach deep within the bag to find some positive vibes to jerk us out of our state of blahdom. While walking the fields, looking and thinking a while ago, I reasoned to myself that by noon this will all be but a blip.

The fog will lift. The snow will melt. The green that we Irish love so much will once again appear, and the promise of an ever-awakening spring will foster new expectation and new reasons to maneuver past the disappointments we so often encounter along our way. It's all a part of the life cycle which calls for a few dark moments to make the light shine brighter.

Tomorrow will be St. Patrick's Day, and we'll all be greeting folks with the line Cis sent me in an e-card this morning---The Top of the Mornin' to You with "When Irish Eyes Are Smilin'" as a musical backdrop.

I think I'm gonna go into the bathroom right now, stand in front of the mirror and get these Irish eyes to smile in preparation for the big day tomorrow.

Top of the Mornin' to You, and may the snow melt quickly!