I just cannot seem to update this page on a regular basis, can I? I am a true procrastinator in all things it seems, not just work. My tendonitis issue is doing a little better, so typing is easier. After a couple more weeks, I may be done with the physical therapy, which I actually regret because it feels so darn funky when they zap electricity into my forearm. They have this little wand that makes the sound of the diagnostic thingie from Star Trek, and that's actually exactly what it does. The sound speeds up when it detects a higher level of electrical activity from nerves in a certain area, which then indicates to the doctor that he needs to zap more electricity in there to convince the nerves to tone it down a little. I'm not sure why it works, but it does feel much better afterwards.

The husband and I went to a Bjork concert last Friday night. In retrospect, it was a very cool experience, but somehow concerts just can't do for me what they used to. It used to be an incredible novelty to actually see a star in person, and I would be completely floored to be in the same room with someone whose music I listened to, and usually whose celebrity-ness I worshipped. After the Tori Amos concerts and this concert, I've realized that somewhere I lost that fanaticism, and therefore am far less impressed with celebrity. That's not to say I don't like concerts, but I can have more fun in a bar listening to a good band whose name I don't know, than on a pier in Seattle smashed between people who paid over $100 for their tickets from ebay, trying to get a glimpse of Bjork between the dreadlocks of the guy in front of me. All of that aside, Bjork is a phenomenal singer, and she was fantastic. She fidgets with her hands when she sings, as if there is just too much energy inside and she can't get it all out through voice alone. And I now definitely want to make it to a rave, somehow, someday, because the electricity pulsing through the crowd on the last song, with strobes flashing, the beat thrumming, and the pier actually moving from the feet stomping and jumping was completely incredible. If that song had gone on all night, I would've been there until dawn.

Instead, I dropped the husband off at the airport at dawn, and spent this whole week trying to recover from going more than 24 hours without sleep. I know I'm getting older, because that used to be much easier for me to do. But the weekend is fast approaching, and I think I will survive. I'm trying to deal with the fact that summer is unbelievably almost over and I'm not sure what to do with what's left. I just want to curl up with a book, but considering that I spend at least nine months of the rainy Bellingham year doing that, I should probably make use of the sunny 75-degree goodness that is currently outside. Which is what I'm going to do right now...


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