Yeay I'm home. Hello my Live Journal Darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Poor Beau, he's afraid of spiders because I'm afraid of spiders. From when he was super little I always taught him to dig bugs, and to have respect for, and not be afraid of all kinds of creatures. But spiders, I love them, I do, I love their webs and their tiny little eyes, but I am so afraid of them. I can pick up little ones, really little ones, and daddy longlegs without being too afraid but once they get big and juicy I freak. Here we were in Palm Springs, so afraid we'd have a big furry spider drop on my face and neck repeat but what happened instead is that when we dragged ourselves in at two in the morning last night, there was a nice big brown spider waiting to great us under the covers. Beau freaked so I carried him outside. He thinks every spider is a black widow bent on sucking out his life force, although we did see two black widows in Palm Springs in our garage. After that he made me pull the car out every time so he wouldn't have to go in the garage.
I only went swimming once in all the time we were there and that was with my Scotty. I was my usual bug saving nut self. I just can't relax when I know I could save all of those drowning creatures. It feels so rewarding and wonderful to watch them dry off their little soaking bodies and finally fly away. One life is one life as far as I'm concerned no matter how small it is. Scott and I got in to an argument about bug consciousness. He has this kind of new agey philosophy about bugs having one mass consciousness or soul. (I've heard people say this about cats and dogs too, puhlease.) He also seems to think that bugs in pools might just be diving in there to die. There may be some possibility of that but when they're clearly hanging on to leaves and swimming for dear life it seems pretty obvious to me that they want to live. I just think it's all just a bunch of justification and selfish human thought crap that keeps us from having to end up laying down rice paper, and gently sweeping the ground before we walk anywhere, so as not to harm anything, like Jains do. I respect them for that. On the other hand I probably just wiped out a million tiny microscopic creatures just now when I scratched my forehead. I don't worry about them because I can't see them.
You can take this really far and feel sorry for spent sperm if you want to. I remember this guy who used to come and tape a show at my old studio who believed that masturbation was wrong because it was cruel to the sperm who weren't being given a shot at conception. It's cruel if they can't get to the egg and wind up bouncing off of some rubber barrier. If I think about it too much I can actually work up some empathy for them.
I love swimming. I don't know, there's something weird and lazy vibe wise about this place. It kind of sucks me in like energy quick sand.
We're cleaning out the car. Bringing in all the bags from Target. Yum Target, so many good cheap things to buy and feel guilty about afterwards because it always adds up to some huge amount of money that I shouldn't have spent. I bought lots of sweet little things for Esther and Saida and a certain pal who I have owed a package too for way too damned long.
I have got to go to the bank before they close or we'll be without money all weekend, yap and yack, no good.
I miss Jen, even though I've only seen her twice in ten billion years, I miss her and want to play with her horsey. I miss my friends Susan and Monique, Karen and Durga too. Why am I such a friggin house hermit? Am I afraid of people or is it because my body hurts so much all the time? All the more reason to have this surgery. Tick tick tick the date is getting closer and I still haven't chickened out. I spoke to a really nice woman in palm Springs who lost one hundred and sixty pounds in eighteen months and thinks it was the best thing she ever did. She was miserable, I mean really miserable, for three months after the surgery. She threw up and had diarrhea every day and her hair fell put and she had to wear a wig. When she would go to her doctor's office for visits they would quickly hussle her out of the waiting room and put her in an office in the back because she would warn all of the patients not to have the surgery.
That's pretty much the story I hear from everyone, that recovery from the surgery is pretty brutal but then later they're thrilled. Two wonderful people here on Live Journal have offered to talk to me about this but as usual I procrastinated and have forgotten which pals wrote and offered to help. I'll have to read back through my journals and/or do a search. I hate that I'm like this, maybe the spaciness will get better when I lose weight and my blood sugar and hormones get more normal. Oh, and I was talking to ana about doctors who are looking in to using natural hormones to combat depression and various psychiatric problems and I found and article about it in this months Vogue. You guys should read it, it's really interesting.
Okay off to the bank and the dog park to kiss some doggies.