Call me Tantalus.

One of my Burning Man buddies from '11 & '13 texted me last night with the last-minute offer of a ticket and a spot in his camp. I said no, of course: m'boy starts college and I'm embarking on divorce proceedings. That doesn't mean I didn't whimper inside when I texted that to him.

I'm going to go some kind of crazy next year. Two years away is too long anymore.

one last wedding anniversary dinner

My Aspiring Ex will, as you know, soon become a regular ex, and not a minute too soon because our twentieth wedding anniversary is next week. We were talking about the usual business - our son, our impending divorce - while I was on the bus, when she had a splendid idea: we should go out for one last anniversary dinner. At Canlis, to which she's never been.

For you non-locals, Canlis has food, drinks, service, a view, and of course prices that are nothing short of astonishing. The vibe is Republican, and it has a fanatically loyal clientelle. Sure, it's expensive, but compared to what we're about to spend on a divorce, it's rounding error.

I laughed and said, "This is why I married you."
"I married you because you'd think this kind of thing is a good idea," she said.

Fun fact: Canlis on the bus route that I take between home & work, the notorious E line, at about the geographic midway point. Taking the E to dinner at Canlis to eat for the first time with the woman I'm about to divorce is something I have to do.