Annika, Ceri and I went to the Salon des metiers d’art last night. Row upon row upon row of stuff: glass work, woolens, leatherwork, woodwork, candles, soaps, jewelry, sculpture, wall art, pottery. Nice vendors. Aggressive vendors. Shy vendors. It reminded me of the trade shows I’ve gone to, only more expensive.

It’s just too big. Annika and I burned out three-quarters of the way through and had to stop, fried and brain-dead. Ceri was still rarin’ to go.

I think it’s an age thing. Five and half years ago, I could game till four in the morning, and then get up and go to work for ten, and after work go downtown for a graduate class at night and not get home until quarter to midnight. Now, I’m regularly in bed at ten-thirty at night.

Poor Ceri. Out at the biggest, fanciest craft show in town, with two thirty-one year olds, artistically inclined and appreciative of the show in general, but betrayed by their decrepit bodies and need for sleep…