My tendonitis is acting up again. I'm in denial about it. It hurts for a few days and then it gets better and I don't think about it for a month or so. If this keeps up, I might never go back to the doc for that occupational therapy slip thingy I was supposed to pick up.

I didn't mention that I got to meet Myla Goldberg, did I? Myla Goldberg wrote Bee Season, which is one of my all-time favorite books. My friend Ch. and I went to listen to her talk about the book and Jewish mysticism and a whole lot of other stuff. I think Ch. and I were the youngest people in the room, and possibly the only two who weren't Jewish. It seemed like the elderly Jewish folk were giving her the "who does this whippersnapper think she is" treatment, but thankfully the moderator kept things in order. Afterwards, I got in line to have her sign my copy of her book, and stupid me, I didn't ask her to make it out to me. I just asked her to sign it. I regret that, because now it just looks like I bought a signed copy.

Life is pretty good. I am liking where E. is right now in the development stage. He still has a large independent streak, but he's also becoming more loving. He willingly gives hugs and kisses now, and he wasn't doing that for a long time. Too busy, I guess. His favorite things right now are dirt, sidewalk chalk (not just drawing with it--eating it too!), bubbles, the park, baths, Laurie Berkner (the only kids musician I can tolerate), hats...oh, and vehicles like buses, tractors, cars, etc. I swear that C. and I didn't have anything to do with this particular obsession, it was all him.

He says new words all the time, but he's still in the "only Mom and Dad can truly understand me" phase. Oh, but then again, two different babysitters have recently reported that they understood him somewhat, so maybe he's getting better.

In other news, an old boyfriend found me on Friendster. This was a guy that I fell hard for and did not get over for many years. He was (and still is) a great drummer and he introduced me to the holy trinity of youth--sex, drugs, and rock and roll. We did a lot of all three. He introduced me to rock music bands that I'd written off as lame "classic rock", and showed me the light. T.Rex, Blue Cheer, "Diamond Dogs"-era David Bowie, the New York Dolls, and a lot of other glam rock greats. He showed me the genius of The Melvins too. He also introduced me to coke, which I'm sad to admit, because it's so bad and so addictive. I haven't done coke in at least seven years, and I still occasionally have dreams about doing it. But my feelings for him had nothing to do with the drugs, it was him. I wanted to be part of his life because he was so much fun. He just lived such an exciting life, and to be a part of it was like being in a special club. We broke up, he moved to Seattle, and I almost moved there to be with him. But then I came to my senses and did my own thing. Some things just aren't meant to be, y'know?

Ahem. Um, Anyway (pardon the stroll down la-la-la memory lane)...he somehow found me on Friendster. He's in California now, with his long-time girlfriend. They have such a gorgeously romantic story of how they got together; when I read it, I just felt happy for both of them that they ended up together. He's in lots of bands, as usual. Working in a rock club to make money. He doesn't look any different. I didn't ask him a lot of particulars, but I assume he's living pretty much the same life as the last time I saw him--an artist and musician, piecing it together however he can. It works for him, and that is great.

And I'm happy I'm not still living that life. It's just not for me.

Wow, I didn't plan on being up 'til midnight! I should go to sleep now.