It sounds like a dream. I was surrounded by a bunch of elderly women who seemed to know only one word in English. "Ball", they said as they looked down at me. Fortunately, given the situation, I know that this was a request, and better yet, a request that I could fulfill with colorful balloons. Today, the day after, my fingers still hurt a bit from making balloon balls at the party Jeanine and I worked yesterday. The birthday boy, being only one year old, probably didn't even realize that all of the fuss was for him. Come to think of it though, all of the fuss was actually for the relatives. The needs of one-year-olds are simple, and big family parties aren't included among them. Apparently though, the needs of octogenarians are a bit more mystifying. They all wanted balloon balls. What they planned to do with these colorful, inflated balls is even more of a mystery.

Earlier, and to the north a bit, I was hired to watch a jump house for a few hours, which gave me more time to reflect on the needs of the very young. I love watching the absolute glee on the faces of toddlers as they bounce up and down. If all adults could figure out how to reattain this simple, guileless joy, the world would be a much better place. To bad we have to mess things up by getting older and less innocent.

Today, we're heading up to a party in Concord, and then on to The Independent in San Francisco for the last Sleepytime Gorilla Museum show ever.

Currently listening to: Sleepytime Gorilla Museum "In Glorious Times"