Band practice on Monday. Acoustic group on Wednesday. Gig on Thursday. This means I don't see J any of those evenings. I used to really hate when he was gone, and in some ways, I still do. As I get used to his hobby though, I find myself enjoying the time when he's not here. Once the kids are in bed, I have the house all to myself. I can watch bad TV. I can practice yoga. I can Tae-Bo. I can vege (how is that spelled?) out on the computer. I can read. I can sleep. I can write. I don't have to fight for the remote. I don't have to fight for the computer. I don't have to fight for attention. And I get to hog the whole bed for a little while. I do love sleeping alone, but not so much that I go to sleep easily.

The band is finally causing less stress for me. J is doing better about scheduling his time, and I am doing better learning to enjoy his absence. I put a little more distance between the band and myself, and that helps immensely. I quit expecting to go to shows at all. I felt if he wanted me there, he would find a sitter. He never did. I let go of that, and decided I'm not going. If he actually makes arrangements to have me there, it will just be a nice surprise. Changing my expectations helped so much that I almost look forward to him leaving.

I know he looks forward to everything he does with the band. He loves music. Like me, he didn't pursue his real dreams and went for the safe option in life. He put music aside. Once he returned to it, it was like a light came on inside him. It was nice to see him happy again, but it was sad too. Nothing seems to make him as happy as his music. It's something I love and hate about him at the same time.

We have such funny conversations sometimes. I try to remember them to write them down, but I have no memory. I have to write sticky notes in big black marker to myself all the time. I don't think a conversation would fit on a sticky note, and I certainly wouldn't remember the conversation by jotting down a few words. I'm dense like that.

The topic of memory came up at dance school the other day. I brought a book that day. It's a sure way to guarantee I will be included in the conversation. If I don't bring a book, the moms talk in small groups amongst themselves. After the past couple weeks, I wouldn't mind a little more small group talk. These women disclose too much information. I do not want to know about your close calls with diarrhea, thank you. Sheesh.

Anyway, while the other women were sharing stories about the troubles of their aging parents, forgetfulness and Alzheimer's came up. One mom said one of the early warning signs of Alzheimer's is forgetting common words. I couldn't help but burst out laughing. I am clearly an Alzheimer's case already. She asked if I do that, and I told her how I often can't remember everyday words, and J will have to feed them to me. They all laughed when I used the word "dog" as an example. It's the only bit of personal information I gave up the whole conversation.

I'm learning the many benefits of being a listener. I can't stick my foot in my mouth when it's closed. So instead I come here and spill all kinds of information. It's like the tree in a forest question. Do you still stick your foot in your mouth when you don't know who, if anyone, is listening?