Today was our last day in Southern California and symbolically, Jewels' birthday. We ended our day of meetings with platters of Mexican food and a few watery margaritas. We wanted to find some outrageous disco to go and dance afterwards, because we both need to do so desperately, but we're in the blandest place in the United States. After some brief brainstorming, we presumed it would be far too difficult to find anyplace to go dancing in a 10 mile radius, to say nothing of a gay bar where we knew the music would be particularly good. We settled for dancing in the car when we heard an Aretha Franklin song on the radio while waiting at a long traffic light. I was impressed that Jewels knew all the words the "Chain, Chain, Chain."

In the end, it didn't matter. Ultimately, it is the company that's key. Because I awoke this morning with my sides aching from the many hours of uproarious laughter he caused me over these past four days, I adore him that much more. He's heading back to New York tomorrow, to unpack, repack and head out again the next day for another meeting, this one in Florida. I'm going up north to San Francisco tomorrow at the crack of dawn for work meetings with West coast colleagues, reunions with family, a good long face to face chat with my dear Hollaback Girl and a good dishy night out with the divine Todor.

The moon's still full tonight, the bastard. And it was gold when it rose.