Please don't hug me again. Just step away. No really, I mean it.

Hey Jakey,

Now I remember why I shy away from taking more classes and workshops. Too many of them turn into touchy-feely, share-your-deepest-feelings hug fests.

Yoga class? Check. Tai chi class? Check. Art workshops, summer university extension classes? Check, check. All have descended into ridiculous, New Agey love-ins.

The latest: a parenting conference that I'm attending this weekend in Reno. The publisher at the magazine I sometimes work for secured me a spot a while ago. Normally a bit spendy, I got in free because the magazine is sponsoring the event. I was mildly excited, cuz the guy running the seminar is apparently some sort of "challenging child" guru.

I shoulda known better.

Expecting practical child-rearing tips and guidelines for setting up some sort of parenting plan, this first day I was instead treated to breathing exercises, hugs from strangers, hand-holding and yes, even five minutes of OMMMMMMMM-ing.

I'm pissed.

This is a two-day seminar, so instead of driving all the way home tonight, then driving up again in the morning, I got a motel room. Of course, all the fun casino hotels downtown are full up this weekend, so I'm in a businessman special down by the airport. No complaints, really, just... for $108, I would've liked to have gotten vouchers for all-you-can-eat prime rib and the ability to run downstairs and play nickel slots or catch a Circus Circus act.

Instead, I'm watching true crime on basic-basic cable and gnawing on some pizza-by-the-slice I picked up at Wild Oats down the street.

My back is wrecked because of the cheap-o plastic chair I had to sit in for 8 hours today. It hurts to sit, it hurts to lay down.

Half a mind to stay up late and do my nails and peruse ebay and play online Mah Jongg, then sleep till noon checkout, instead of getting up at 7 and going to day two of this cursed thing.

Love you and miss you. Everything I do, every cheap-o plastic chair I squirm in, I squirm in for you.