  Don't seem to have the libido for this journal lately. I've had a sad past few days, and I'm not sure why.
Today Zoe's home again with conjunctivitis. She's watching Caillou. Stella's drinking chocolate soy milk which she always demands in an imperious way. People have lives much harder than mine--why should I be bumming? Yesterday Shelley and I, with Emmett and Stella, walked for miles through the city.
We ended up at the cafe in the East Village. The guy behind the counter, Peter, is this charismatic, dynamic friendly guy who is only 22. He was playing this interesting local band, the Scissor Sisters. I had this weird moment. I had always in some weird fashion considered myself a peer of Peter's. (I mean aren't I a hip, cool gal in the know? Don't answer that. ) What I realized yesterday is that we are in completely different generations, that I am technically old enough to be Peter's mother, and that he probably sees me as very old.
As I did at 22 when I encountered someone of 39. I don't know what I'm getting at by all this, but for the first time, I felt pushed forward into time, closer to death. Sigh. And it was a pleasant, sunny day, too. 
