4/23/09: I am in my second week with this writer's workshop, and I've critiqued two partial stories.  I want more stories to critique.  I want to get to know everyone.  I want, I want, I want.  "Feed me, Seymour!"  On the personal side: Northern California has been very changable, this spring.  Temperatures fluxuate between the 40's and the 90's.  It's sunny, then hazy, then cloudy, and then it rains.  And, then the cycle repeats.  Rain is good, since we're in a drought, but it's too little too late.  Of course, I can't complain about the perfect climate, or all the friendly people who are more accepting of eccentric science fiction nerds than people are in Connecticut, where I grew up.  My 20 year-old son lives with me.  His mother gave him a car for a high school graduation present.  He dutifully ignored the motor oil reservoir for two years until the engine up and died.  I loaned him my Miata for a business meeting, and someone backed into it in a parking lot.  Today, a homeless urban denizen accosted my son, and the Miata's door handle got pulled off.  Unfortunately, middle-age induced amnesia caused me to forget what a knucklehead I was at my son's age.  Otherwise, I would have written a long list of rules to follow when he borrows my car.  For instance, always keep the windows rolled up when you dirve through the ghetto.  And, don't look at the homeless unless you have something to offer them.  And, also, don't borrow someone's car unless you can afford to fix any damage that occurs on your watch. (I'm ranting.)(OK, I stopped.)  I think I'm hike-deficient.  Tonight, I'll double-time it up to the reservoir overlook, and all will feel perfect and I will be at peace once again.