Resuscitation

As I've pulled this blog up occasionally over the last five years, I've realized that it's the only baby book my daughter is going to have. I fear google will remove it if I don't post something, so here's an update:

I'm happily divorced.

Easy E, three years old, has joined the famous Sabra. Two kids, check.

I now have three days a week to myself which, after some emotional adjustment, has been a personal revolution.

I bought a cute little cottage in Oakland. The rest of my life remains in San Francisco, but I'm happy to be over here where I can buy Trappey's Pepper Sauce with no grief.

I'm now a Montessori teacher, yo! I'm starting a Masters in Education this summer.

Gus the rabbit died of a stomach virus at the age of nine; that's like Methusela in lop rabbit years.

My old apartment on Natoma Street has been re-rented twice post-blog, and I've gone to tour it both times. I'd probably do it again. I love that house. I always tool through there when I take my mom by Rainbow Grocery for peppered Daphinois and Sevre et Belle after picking her up from the SF airport.

Should any of the old regulars look me up, know that I check in on you occasionally as well.

Hope you're happy: if not, find a job you don't hate, drop the people you don't love, and live in a place that makes you feel like you. I'm not making this up-- it's evidently Richard Florida. He said it, but I've lived it.

Peace.