Hey Jakey,

Daddy and I went to the Lake Tahoe Shakespeare Festival last night. My mom and dad are still (!!!) here, so they watched you while we were gone. You haven't felt really well the past couple of days, and I think its because you caught my cold. You're feeling a little bit better today, but you're not 100 percent. It was hard to leave you home knowing you felt like crap.

The last time we went to the festival, I was three months pregnant with you. I was a hormonal wreck, and I remember tearing up at the silliest things. Last year's play was "Midsummer Night's Dream," and I cried whenever Puck had a scene with that little girl. They just seemed to get along so well, like a daddy and his daughter. Back then, I didn't know if you were going to be a boy or a girl, but I really thought you were going to be a little girl, and I imagined that you would look like the girl in the play. She was in the play again this year, and really doesn't look a whole year older.

When I checked in at the media booth, I saw the name of this guy on the list that I went to college with. We had actually hung out a bit back then, doing odd little freelance things together on the weekend. He went on to become some big-shot magazine photographer and I went on to do ... well ... whatever it is that I do. I knew he was living in this area, because he shot the photos for some book about the Lake Tahoe Rim Trail, and he was going around to local bookstores, talking about it and signing books. I featured his booksigning schedule in my little rag. Oh, irony.

So anyway, I saw him sitting a few rows in front of me at the amphitheater. I recognized him right away, even though I haven't seen him in about 13 years. God, he looked oooooold. Same long hair, only its all grey at the temples, and lots of wrinkles. He looked like Richard Chamberlain, with long hair. Do *I* look that old? Say it isn't so!

Anyway, I never screwed up enough courage to walk up and say hey. I have such an inferiority complex, and I'm filled with such self-loathing, that I just couldn't do it, even with daddy shoving me in his direction. Anyway, on the way back from the restroom at intermission, he walked right by me and didn't recognize *me*, so it's a good thing I didn't bother. How lame is that: to walk up to somebody and say "hey, remember me...?" and he DOESN'T? Argh. Oh, I hope you grow up to like yourself more than mommy likes herself.

Oh, and the play was good. Good, not spectacular. We saw "As You Like It." I mean, I had to read the damn play in high school, and then I saw the movie and had to write a report on it in college, and I still have no idea what's going on more than half the time. I don't know, it just wasn't as fun this year. Maybe next year you can come with.

I'm so paranoid lately about someone I know finding my blog. I think sometime soon, I'm going to go back and change all the names, so it'll make it harder to stumble upon with google. Can you imagine if someone found out all the terrible things I say about work and that one beeee-aaatch (or two) in particular.

"Paranoia, big destroyer." "Just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean everyone's not out to get you."

Feel better soon. Love you.