As I got out of my car tonight I looked up and saw a satellite silently passing by overhead. It reminded me of going camping, of lying on my back in my sleeping bag and staring at the stars.

The Dickens is now well and truly three, even if she won't admit it. The real party is on sunday, but the strawberry bread that Jen made was quite acceptable in lieu of cake. The Dickens, who I hope doesn't grow up to be a pyromaniac, obsessively blew out the candles again and again as she basked in the warm glow of "happy birthday to you..." over and over again.

Willow has a new purple ball, which she calls "bee". This, apparently, is what all balls are called.

Only fifteen more days, but they'll be busy ones.

cds I listened to while cutting a mere five minutes off of last night's delivery time: Brightblack "ala.cali.tucky", Woven Hand "s/t", Mari Boine "Eagle Brother" and "Unfolding", The Fixtures "Dangerous Music Defect", and Tim Eriksen "Every Sound Below"