Hair it turns gray
and skin it turns to leather
but the best thing about growing old:
We all do it together

I know, I haven't updated in a long time. I probably lost all my readers. Except Mom (hi, Mom!). But I wanted to write to someone, and I don't know why. At first I was going to rant about people who are pissy about health reform. But then I realized what I really wanted to do was rave about where my life is.

I feel like things are going pretty well, despite sad days yesterday and today. SXSW was a good balance of fun and relaxation. And now I'm about to go to New Orleans, which is always stressful getting ready because I have to leave my Austin life in perfect condition for me to return. But then it's so pleasant to be there. I'm so lucky to have such a great relationship with my family.

Even though I don't have a job. Even though I'm living outside of my means. Even though my place never stays clean for more than 2 hours. Even though my Very Exciting Interview that was scheduled for Saturday morning got canceled. Even though my last foster dog tore up the couch cover my mom made me from the Indian fabric I brought back. Even though I violated FCC regulations on my radio show yesterday. Even though I dreamed I was fostering 3 white tigers and an regular orange tiger, and one of them mauled a neighbor. Even though a nice relationship with a Boy had to end yesterday. Even though I had to miss boxing last week and this. Even though I met with my high school frienemy. Even though Saturday was freezing:

Saturday also featured free carnival rides. I got to hang out with the dearest friends in the world for days while we all took off work for the festival. Meeting with my frienemy broke a spell that had lingered like a cobweb for 10 years. I found out I'm the favorite DJ (to the staff anyway) at my radio station. The Boy and I will remain friends. I learned how to make paper. I might get to reschedule the interview, but even if not, that's OK; her live show was enough to make me happy. At this point, I can fantasize about any perfect job I want. My boxing teacher promises he will remember me when I return next week, and I got to talk a long time with a lady there about New Orleans, AND I casually ignored my Boxer Crush. My cats are particularly devoted to me. Mom might be able to fix the couch cover, and the puppy was sweet and didn't mean anything by it.

Everything is amazing, and no one is happy?

No, sir, I disagree. I am satisfied.