In every Catholic home there's a picture of Christ holding his bleeding heart in his hand. I used to think, ugh. the only person with whom I have not exchanged confidences is my hairdresser. Some recommend stern standards, others say float along. He says, take it as it comes, meaning, of course, as he hands it out. I wish I could be a Wise Woman smiling endlessly, vacuously like a plastic flower, saying Child, learn from me. It's time to perform an act of charity to myself, bequeath the heart, like a spare kidney- preferably to an enemy.