Sigh. Enjoying a nice Oregon Gewertzemeiner (whatever) on the deck of the most luscious doily-free B&B overlooking the Willammette Valley that I could ask for, wondering how it is that I'm two miles away from Chloe and neither of us has contacted the other all day -- could it be that she's doing fine, living her life? That is my fondest wish.

Did the happy dance on the deck earlier -- what is that? three times this week? Life is lush. Of course, I'm ripping off Roz Chast again, to whom I probably owe my life. Perhaps I should bake her a cake, or a babka, or some nice rugelach. Only Roz and I (and maybe a few million other people) understand that 'life is lush' is a momentary feeling, which can be shattered just so easily. So. Enjoy.

Bill's hair is growing in nicely -- three days into the shave it's very soft to the touch, a nice shadow on his head. I hope he keeps it this way - sort of almost shaved, or non-shaved -- the anti-shave, or the soft shave. It suits him. He suits me. Although, yesterday, when all I wanted was to be alone, even if meant drowning everyone else (even Bill, in the hot tub there next to me) ... thank goodness he's more easy going than I am. Actually, he's most easy going than almost anyone.

Should I? Shouldn't I? go to a Nia class here in Eugene? It would mean getting up ...

Stay tuned