When little Oliver started howling this morning at 6am, it felt like I'd only just put my head down on the pillow about thirty seconds earlier. My skull was pounding and congested, and my bleary condition was impervious to the normally rejuvenating, revitalizing jets of a hot shower. From the kitchen, WNYC spun a disquieting yarn about a catastrophic ice storm that has left many people without electricity and killed 54 in nine states. Attempting to further jump start my morning with the first of too many cups of coffee, I sat down at my computer to find my work e-mail box already running over with news and developments. The day was already racing ahead of me, and it was promising to be a long one. As I was peering out the window, looking out at people on E.9th street walking at acute angles to shield themselves from the bitterly cold wind, I heard my daughter coming up behind me. From across the living room, pushing a tiny toy stroller like a miniature stock car intent on total destruction, she came rocketing towards me, giggling maniacally.
"Daddy, I LIKE JAM!"
Her message effectively delivered, she did a quick 180 and scampered back towards the kitchen.
Perhaps the day doesn't have to suck after all.
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