Brand New Family

Ana M and Lili Sleeping

Here's my friend and her soon-to-be husband and their new baby swaddled between them. I just checked in on them before finally putting my own self down for the night and grabbed this off their live web cam.

I so remember when my giant 6'3" seventeen year old was this tiny and fragile. He was only semi-comfortable when he was swaddled, but he rarely slept.

I just think this is the sweetest miracle. It's been such a generous gift of inclusion to have been allowed to watch the formation of this family; From their early days of passionate lovemaking, to Lili's conception, through all of the ups and downs and concerns about how they would handle this great change in their lives, to their acceptance and embracing of this miraculous transformation as Lili grew inside Ana's belly, and then the birth. And now the beginning of their lives together as a family. It's just all so moving and dear and rare to be allowed to witness this moment to moment. Just... wow!

My Beloved Ana Voog and M. Had Their Baby Lili, Yeay!!!

Waiting For Lili

My oldest and most beloved Internet friend ana and her partner had their baby tonight live on cam. I am so overjoyed, so full of love, and warmth, and happiness for them. Her name is Lili and she was born at 9:38 CST. She weighed six pounds six ounces and she's nursing well.

I missed it but that's okay, my energy has been there for days and days offering my love and support. So many of her friends have been sending out love and ease and healthy vibes. That has to count for something. And it sounds like it was a good labour, eight or nine hours, and the baby, Lili, has already latched on and as ana said she loves her nipples.

That's such good news. It took me days to get Beau sorted out and it was so upsetting and worrisome. It took weeks before we really got it down and the nursing part of the experience is so crucial, so key, so vital.

What an amazing gift this has been; watching them fall in love, watching them make love, create life, nurture life, and then give birth to it, to her. I'm so grateful and awestruck. I wonder how many years it will be before living life so openly and publicly won't be upsetting or shocking to people any more. When I think of my friend ana and the way she lives her life on cam I don't think of sex like more prurient people might, I think love, I think art, I think about how brave she is, and how much I admire her for being such a pioneer in all of this. She is such a muse for me.

So many of my friends did get to watch live as it was happening. I'm really happy for them. I so wanted to be able to do this but alas it wasn't meant to be for me. I can't wait for someone to put up an archive of the cam shots for those of us who missed it, but I imagine this brand new little family will be pretty busy trying to adjust to their brand new life.

I'd been checking in much more frequently than I normally do. Ordinarily I'll check in maybe once or twice a week, but lately I've been checking in about twice a day. Today I checked in, in the morning, then I went to see my new therapist, got there early, wandered around her lovely building complex taking pictures, had mini epiphanies in therapy, went to The Farmer's Market and bought dinner for all of us and some Lover's Tea, which is this lovely green tea with a flower that bursts open and floats prettily in the center of the pot, and some calming tea for Scott, had a weird run-in with Bank of America's computer when it refused a purchase and then asked me if I had authorized a thirty-three trillion dollar purchase on my card, (I swear this isn't an exaggeration, the computer actually asked me if I had done this, I obviously pushed two for, ummm... No, I did not make a thirty-three trillion dollar purchase"), then I drove home, heated up our crepes, brought them up to my room to eat with Scott, freshened myself up after a long day of rushing around, and then we made love that was so wonderful and pleasurable. So all in all a great day made even more wonderful by the gift of this great news. Really, I'm over the moon and dying to call people and tell them but it's almost three in the morning and who would I call?

Tomorrow is my Mom's ninety-first birthday. One of her bridge playing buddies is throwing a ladies lunch at The Bel Air Hotel. I'm going to pick up Mom and one of her friends a little early and then we'll join the girls. I adore older women. They have so much to teach us, so much to offer, and are so much fun to spend time with.

My Mom loves Gerschwin, Cole Porter, Rogers and Hart, and Bobby Short at the Carlisle, so I bought her about ten CDs from that period -- CDs she can listen to as she drives around doing errands in her car. She doesn't do the driving any more, her housekeeper Rosa does. I also have a lovely picture that I've put in a mosaic frame I made for her out of sea glass that I've collected and some other surprises. I should hurry and get to bed so I can get up early and get everything in order. I have to dress and do my makeup just so when I do anything with my Mother and her friends. They all dress so well in their expensive knit designer suits, appearance is so very important to these ladies who lunch, and I want my Mom to be happy with me.

Scott put a pinch of his calming tea on my bed for the cats because it has catnip in it. They went crazy rubbing their faces in it and spreading it all around my bedspread.

Life is so beautiful.

Happy Birthday Little Lili! Welcome to the world!!!

Love you,

Pale Yellow Garden Rose With Bug

Pictures I took yesterday. I used to hate these little bugs because of how they just cluster on my poor roses and gobble them up, but now that I've seen them up close, I can see how beautiful they are, and how they have as much right to life as my roses do. I really do love life so very much. It's so full of miracles.

Little Green Rose Buggy (Aphid)

(no subject)

I've been having so much fun taking, editing, and uploading photos to Flickr. I just uploaded these, but I've put many more up there. Fun, fun, fun.

Sleepy Freckles

Nature at Dani's One

Windswept Grass At Dani's Two

Watched lots of depressing movies on Lifetime Movie Network today, and some depressing porn as well. It makes me horny but in the loneliest of ways. Makes me want to direct my own porn films. I'd only cast and shoot people who really care about each other, and no high heels, and no facials, or fake sexuality.

Windswept Grass At Dani's

My Hands Are Bananas


My favorite cat Niki got fed up with my sleeping in so late this morning and gave me a good whack on my eyelid. He did this a few months ago and I ended up looking like Scott punched me, ever so slightly, for a few days. I'm pretty sure this one will turn purple too.

I think what happens is that he realizes that fresh water and food arrive when I open my eyes and start moving around so he comes out of the bathroom where he likes to spend most of his elder cat time sleeping on a warm heating pad, stands beside me for a while, and then wallops my eye. It's also possible that he's just been sitting around watching me for a while and because I'm dreaming he thinks my eyes flitting around are kind of interesting and wants to take a whack at them. I don't know.

It seems more of a deliberate thing, although I was in the middle of a dream about a giant werewolf, about the size of the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man in Ghostbusters, coming into a city like Manhattan. He was huge; this big wolfy dog walking on all fours, about four buildings tall, with a couple of people riding on his back. He seemed pretty benign, as far as these kinds of things go. He didn't seem to mean anyone harm. But people were running as if from Godzilla nevertheless. I just wanted to find Beau and keep people from accidentally being trampled. I also wanted to protect the giant werewolfy dog

Speaking of cats, how cool is this; a guy strapped a small digital camera to his cat's collar and snapped random shots of his cat's wanderings throughout the course of several days. What a great idea. I wish I'd thought of that. I can't remember whose journal I found the link on last night, I was verrry sleepy as I had just taken a sleeping medication to help me sleep, sorry, please remind me if you'd like me to give you credit.

I own the domain and have been wanting to do something fun with it for the longest time. I own some other great names too, oh well, one of these days. Right now it's all I can do to keep up with my life. Most of the time I feel like I'm just trying to keep my head above water.

I stayed up late last night because I wanted to check in on Ana and I had a lot of computer catching up and DVR watching to do, and of course it never ever comes to an end. It's like my house; forever in need of some expensive and time consuming repair or organizational need. I often think my purse, car, bathroom, and closets are a reflection of my mental state. When I'm in chaos, so are they. When I can put them all, or even just one of them, in some kind of order I feel so much better about myself. I wonder if that's a tad OCD-ish.

Then there was the fun news this morning that the doggies had figured out how to open the roll-up garage door, rolled it up, and went marauding about in all of our stored stuff, pissed all over everything and dragged out whatever they wanted to play with. Poor doggies. Poor Concha. Not wanting to wake me up, (Which I would have totally understood and welcomed, as opposed to her having to try to clean it all up on her own), she went out there and worked in the hot son for hours stacking everything up again and trying to pull the garage door back down. Beau came out and helped her. I just feel so bad that all of my accumulated stuff, including the dogs who so badly need to placed in good homes, had caused all of this trouble for Concha and Beau. Now I need to find someone who can come and repair the garage door and pray that the whole thing doesn't repeat itself all over again tomorrow.

I have been praying/meditating/visualizing positive things for my friend ana who is about to have her little baby girl Lili any second now. I hope she has the healthiest, easiest, bestest labour in all the world.

Beau came into my room to share this video with me today. It looks like it was uploaded about a year ago, so we are seriously way behind the curve here, but I think it's pretty funny in a teenagery Sprokets kind of way. We laughed so hard. I love my son, but of course that goes without saying. Do I need to tell you that he's about 6' 3" now? Standing next to Concha this morning he actually startled me for a moment because he looked like a giant and I started to worry that he might have some kind of endocrine disorder. My eenie weenie preemie who we had to buy doll clothes for, for a few weeks after he was born, because nothing in the extra-small baby clothes section would fit.

I so wish we had, had access to the kind of technology and global communications that kids, ("Kids" God that makes me feel so old), have today. We would so have been doing this instead of wandering the winding streets of Bel Air looking for ways to make ourselves laugh by acting out. One of my personal favorites was the tag bare walls with the phrase, "Stimulate my clitoris." I thought that was a hoot because the phrase seemed so out of sync or context with the act of vandalizing a wall; seemed like if you were going to tag something you should say "Chuey was here," or "Get your weed from Stinky," or even "Suck it," instead of a more clinical reference to sexually pleasuring one of the best parts of the female anatomy.

Okay, well, I've got to run. Scott's coming over any second and we're all going to see Harry Potter.

Big hugs,

PS: "Beware the Milky Pirate."

Wow; An Entry, Finally!

Rose Mosaic

Hello My Dear Friends,

I have begun this entry and abandoned it seven or eight times now in the past month. I have Charity to thank for giving me the nudge to break my Blogger's Block tonight. And I have my fingers crossed that for once I'll be able to get through this entry without getting bogged down in the upset that has me concerned about what my partner Scott will think as he reads this over my shoulder, so to speak. So then I just give up and save the file for later. Wish me luck?

Maybe if I try to keep this short and sweet, "Just the facts, Mam," Dragnet style, I'll be able to write and then move on? Although anyone who knows me here is probably laughing their ass off, because short and sweet has never been my style -- sweet maybe, but never short. In fact just toss this aside, aside, and count on this being a long entry. If you dare to venture further you may need to plan on settling in for a long but hopefully rich read with a nice hot cuppa whatever.

I think this is one of the most beautiful photographs I have ever seen of my dear sweet friend ana-wee. She is soooo beautiful here, well, she's beautiful on a bad day, but pregnant? Wow. Just wow. I'm so excited for her.

The main reason I want to break through this block and write tonight is because I am really excited about my oldest cyber friend's impending birth. My friend Ana Voog, who I have known now for, can it be twelve years, is about to give birth to a little girl who she has named Lili. The experience of watching her end a long term relationship, begin a new one, discover this deep incredible sexual passion and love, share it with us on her cam, become pregnant, process all of the feelings that go along with that, and then follow her pregnancy up until now has been intimate, moving and beautiful. I am thrilled for her and wishing her the easiest, speediest, healthiest, most pain free delivery of all time.

If any of you would like to share in this experience, now would be a great time to join her cam. I don't know how much it costs each month because my membership has been a gift for so long I don't know what she charges, but I think it's pretty low and they really need the support financially. She is planning on giving birth live on cam which should be a mind blowingly beautiful and loving experience to be able to share in. If you can't afford to join, she updates fairly frequently via her journal here and you can keep up with her from there.

I think pregnant women are the sexiest women on the planet, but I've said this before here, and often. I have always loved pregnancy, childbirth, and children. I'm super passionate about it. Well, actually I love pregnancy, birth, and life in any of the many forms it takes. And yeah, I'm one of those annoying people who want to not only touch but kiss the bellys of any passing pregnant stranger. I was in an elevator today with a very pregnant woman and it took everything in me to behave myself and not invade her lush, ripe, pregnant space.

Speaking of compassion for all forms of life, I found a frightened little spider creeping around my ceiling last night, captured it, and took it outside in an empty prescription bottle and set it free. I always do this, but I think this time it was particularly compassionate of me given that Scott has one of the biggest, growliest, worst wounds I have ever seen on his body from what may have started out as a spider bite, and this has made me, oh, just a wee bit pissed off at spiders right now -- pissed off and frightened at the real dangers they pose to us and our pets.

I spotted our small eight legged friend because one of my cats, Anastasia, was doing the nitterring thing, (The wonderful actor James Mason and his wife had many cats and I was lucky to get my hands on a rare book he wrote about them, I think he made up this phrase, nitterring, and it was so apt, so appropriate to that speedy little chattering thing they do when they spot some form of prey, that I adopted it on the spot,) last night, and she was staring up at one of the shelves that run around my ceiling so intently that I knew something had to be there. And sure enough, there she was, this spider.

I am very afraid of spiders, but I also feel empathy for them and would rather risk being bit than kill one, so it's always such a hassle having to wait until they climb down close enough for me to catch and remove them to a safer spot. But this particular spider was so responsive to our energy, Anna's (Anna Romanov or Anna Anderson), and mine. She would draw her little legs in close to her body whenever we could get closer to her. It made me feel sorry for her because she was clearly trying to defend herself.

Life means so much to me. Life in all it's many forms is so dear and so beautiful.

I imagine you'd like to hear about Scott and our relationship since that's where I left you hanging after my last anguished entry. It is very hard for me to write about it. Believe me I've tried. This has been a trying time -- and trying is putting it mildly; brutally painful, or torturous, would be more accurate since what he is going through, or went through, touched on my deepest core issues, mainly my tremendous fear of abandonment, and my having this history of a sense of the people I love the most being ambivalent in their love for me, being undependable and impermanent, no matter how hard I try to hang on, no matter how much I am willing to put up with, no matter how much I will twist myself up into knots in order to keep them before I finally realize I am hurting myself and have to give up or risk losing my sanity.

Scott has been my rock for so long, so steadfast and dependable in his own ephemeral way, so dear and important to me, so clearly my other half, the yang to my yin, that I never saw any of this coming, and I was shocked to my core, shocked into what felt like an earthquake that rocked my sanity and reverberated through every part of my life. I came about as close as I think I can come to breaking down over what we went through, and are continuing to work through. And all of this happening in the midst of a major health crisis, and the complete melt down of our mutual friend and therapist.

But, time heals all, and we have worked through a lot. It still feels very unstable and delicate. I still worry that the rug could be ripped out from under me at any moment, but I feel much more empowered now than before, and I have a much clearer understanding of how I contributed to the place where Scott ended up, wanting out or wanting me to transform myself into someone I am not, and don't know if I can be, immediately. It was that desperate for him; it was an, "I must have this now or I will die," kind of situation.

We worked hard. I worked hard. We both did and are continuing to. We found another therapist who has some extremely helpful communication tools that he taught us and we are learning to use more effectively, and this has helped us a lot. I've been doing a lot of growing, a lot of learning about myself, about Scott, about love and relationships, about what I will and will not accept, what I can and cannot subject my heart and soul to. It took long hard days and nights of struggling and suffering for me to reach a point where I was willing to let the relationship go rather than turn myself into someone it would torture me to become for someone else.

It took me more than a month of crying, a month of sleepless nights, and gut wrenching pain before I was able to stand up for myself. I really struggled with this because I truly love Scott and ultimately I want him to be happy. I didn't and don't want to lose him, and I don't want to be unfair to him and hold him back. I don't want to stand in the way of his happiness, but I also don't know if he was thinking clearly, he was and is under so much stress, and he had been starved for sex and affection for so long, nevertheless he was adamant about his position, and it forced me to become clear about my own.

I can't go from being someone he often calls his wife, his lover of sixteen years, to someone he sees along with several other women at a time, without my having any feelings about this. He literally wanted, and may still want me to be able to go back to dating him, or being a kind of Fuck Buddy. He basically said that if we had plans to get together on a Wednesday, he didn't want to have to be accountable for where he was going or what he was doing on Monday or Tuesday, or with whom. And he certainly didn't want to deal with or hear my feelings about it, or the pain that this would cause me.

There was no wiggle room here at all, no three ways, no let's pick a woman out together for him or both of us to have sex with, no wild definition of an open relationship that involved my consent or feelings at all. He gets to do whatever he wants irregardless of how I feel about it, period. And this, this request, was breaking my heart. I mean what am I supposed to be doing on Monday and Tuesday night, imagine my lover making love with another woman? Go out to bars and try to find someone to do the same thing with? I'm not built that way. I have to have an emotional connection with someone in order to want to Fuck them, and chances are, I would end up finding someone else, and leaving Scott. Was he insane? Did he have any idea what he was risking or giving up? I actually had to ask him how he would feel if the circumstances were reversed, how he would feel if I were Fucking someone else, if I fell in love with someone else while he was off exploring his sexuality?

Have you heard Melissa Etheridge's latest CD? Every lyric on that album speaks to me right now. So, finally I decided I was prepared to set him free, no bluff, I cried my eyes out and I was ready to let him go.

"A 'no' uttered from the deepest conviction is better and greater than a 'yes' merely uttered to please, or what is worse, to avoid trouble." -- GANDHI

I don't know where this will take us in the long run but sometimes the act of saying, "No," can be a very empowering thing.

No, I will not continue to be in a relationship with my lover of sixteen years while he screws whoever he wants, whenever, wherever, and however he wants. No, I won't subject myself to that kind of intolerable suffering. I've been there before and I know exactly how much that hurts. No, I will not risk my health. No, I will not allow the one person who claims to love me the most to do this to my spirit. I won't do this to my spirit.

Super healthy, grown up, psychologically well developed, solid folks have trouble surviving this kind of thing. People who go into relationships with this as the stated plan struggle with jealousies and insecurities. One of my best friend's husband's lost his ex-wife to the other woman he brought in to the relationship because he just had to have a little more spice, and sadly he ended up being the outsider. The statistics on these kinds of things, frankly, suck, especially when it is only one of the two partners who wants to open the relationship, and Scott wasn't even asking for that, he wants/wanted something beyond that. Although now he says he has put this aside and is focusing on our relationship.

He also said he's too busy with work and survival to worry about taking on anything else right now, not exactly comfort food for the tortured soul of a loving partner, but I'll take it, for now. And to be fair, again, I'm pretty sure I understand how he came to the desperate place where he was, and I had a lot to do with that. I neglected him and I'm sorry about this, very sorry. I think we both have an understanding of how we've let each other down, and maybe God willing this is just a little rain that had to fall in order to help us blossom.

But, oddly enough, who knows, I'm changing so fast that even I don't recognize myself from one day to the next. In some ways I like that Scott is open minded and not possessive. As he so gently, not, said to me, "There is no way that you are the last woman I am ever going to have sex with." And I think I feel the same way. I have a much more limited sexual history than he does, I don't know what's out there in the world because I went straight from my parents to my husband to Scott without a break in between. But I do know that I love the bird I have in my hand and he is much more valuable and dear to me than all the other birdies in the bush, no matter how lovely they may initially appear to be. I know this. I'm not so sure he does.

I am extremely liberal, and very sexual. I am attracted to men and women. So maybe in time, with a lot of trust and love, we can get closer to a more open kind of relationship. Or maybe I will have to let him go, with love.

But for now it's no and he's still here. I didn't think he would stay once I made that decision and oddly enough, we are closer now than we have been in years, closer sexually and emotionally, despite the hurt I am having to work through. I have never loved or hated him more than I have in these last two months. I haven't had this much sex since we first fell in love, I don't think I've ever had this much sex, and I am definitely loving this aspect of what we're going through. Every fiber of my sexual being is wide awake and crying out for more. I can't get enough. Whereas before all of this went down I had become so angry and so shut off that I could go two months without sex, now I want it every day, several times. He can't even keep up with me.

Now if I could just settle my mind down, calm my fears and anxieties, and stop futurizing everything, I'd have it made, or at least I'd be in a much healthier and more peaceful place. It's a pretty hard thing to do though, given that he isn't making any promises about the future, but then who really can?

I've also begun therapy for myself with a new therapist, a super healthy and helpful therapist who gets me out of my house, and who I have to drive across town for. It's been a very good thing for your slightly agoraphobic friend. Each week that I see her I make progress on some major issue.

Today we worked on my relationship with my Mother and my childhood. Like doing this in therapy is any big surprise. But we also worked on my perception of myself as a victim. I'd always thought I saw myself as a survivor, someone who has been through so much, but who always comes bouncing back, but now I get to meditate on how much drama I allow in to my life, how often I am in crisis, and see myself at the mercy of it, rather than choosing it. I could go on for days about this, and probably will, but I'd rather not.

On an even heavier note, let's talk about cancer for a moment shall we? My friend Mary, who you know has been living with breast cancer for years, cancer that has traveled to her liver and abdomen, who has been undergoing chemo and all kinds of medical cocktails and procedures, and who is truly this amazing woman, (I mean I know you hear this kind of thing all the time from people whose friends are imperiled in some way, but she really is special, and maybe I think that God doesn't give these kinds of tough experiences to people who aren't special in some way, or maybe I'd prefer to think of it that way because it makes it easier in some way, but she really and truly is...special), has learned that she has cancer in her bones. Salt and pepper specks she calls it. And she is moving forward in her treatment along with her amazing doctor. Cancer treatment has come so far in our lifetime. But just for the heck of it, could you send another round of hopeful healing energy her way?

On a happier note, Mary's novel, Figures of Echo, is being made into a Lifetime movie, before it was even published. So she self published it and is selling it at this cool site called, (It'll be at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and all of the usual places in a matter of days, if it isn't there already), and she's donating all of the profits to one of the best charities I've heard of in a long time, but of course I've forgotten the name of it. Basically it's a super empowering program that makes small loans to people who need them the most.

And now for some more cancer news; Remember that ovarian tumor of my Mother's, the one that her doctor told her was cancer for certain, but then her oncologist said might simply be borderline cancer, (What the hell is borderline cancer?), well, we had been kind of hoping it wasn't anything much because cancer cells grow pretty quickly and Mom's golf ball sized tumor was remaining golf ball sized. But now it's changed, now it's the size of an orange, and she has something growing on the outside of her lower bowel.

Her oncologist says that he's pretty certain it's cancer but that she could live another five years with it. He wants to take it out. He didn't want to take it out before. Mary doesn't think we should. We have a month to make up our minds. Mom is very confused and is leaving a lot of this up to me. It's a lot to think about, a lot to shoulder, a lot to carry.

I love my Mother. She has put me through hell, and she has also been an angel and my best friend, so naturally I have some ambivalent feelings, but the overriding feeling will always be tremendous love and respect. I quite simply adore my Mother, in some ways I idolize her. She will be ninety-one on July 31st. We are going to have a party for her at the Bel Air Hotel on her birthday, a luncheon in the garden. I have so many gifts and suprises planned.

She is handling all of this with such aplomb, such grace. But then she has always been very matter-of-fact about the biggest things in life. She is telling me, "Well, honey, I'm ninety years old, I'm not going to live forever."

Why do people think this -- think that ninety-plus has to be the end of the line and dismiss elderly people as if they're simply lucky to have made it that far? Our wonderful friend Rowena, (John McCain's Mother's twin sister), is ninety-four and she travels all over the world. I think she was in India the last I heard. She drives her friends crazy with her long involved stories, but I love them to pieces, perhaps it's the artist in me, always mining for gold in other people's histories, or the story collector. I am definitely a collector of stories. But honestly, I love nothing more than to sit on the phone and listen to her talk and talk about her life. She's that interesting and charming with her darling accent.

And still more cancer news; My friend and neighbor Betsy, who I adore because she is simply one of the funniest, wackiest, and yet sanest people I know, (A therapist with a thriving practice in Westwood who reminds me a lot of myself when I was less timid and more willing to just act out whenever I felt like it, the person who simply did not give a shit about what anyone else thought of her), just had a radical double mastectomy and reconstruction surgery. This was elective.

One minute she was telling us she found a lump, the next it was biopsy time, and then blam, Cancer, Removal, and, "I want my breasts off now!" I know this is a controversial subject for some people, but I completely respect her right, or your right, to make whatever decision you feel is right to make for your own body. In her case she knows in runs in her family, her Mom had it, she has the genes for it, and she didn't want to spend the rest of her life worrying about when or if it would come back again.

The scary part is that she almost didn't survive the surgery and we were all pretty freaked out there for a couple of days. The surgery went well, but then her vitals went haywire and the doctors couldn't stabilize her for at least four hours, then she was transferred to the cardiac ICU.

I am dying to reach out to her. Dying to take flowers over to her. Dying to touch her and tell her that I love her. But Betsy is one of those people who pulls deep inside herself when she is dealing with illness, and all of the many people who love her are having to respect that she is choosing to remain totally out of contact with all but her closest family members. She'll come back when she's ready.

This is hard. I'm used to seeing her almost every day. I miss her laugh. I just plain miss her and when she comes back I am going to go on over there, to her house, and sit beside her and do paint by number paintings with her, (That's her favorite hobby, she does this to relax, she's Jewish and she just completed this huge intricate painting of Pope John Paul II, I thought that was so odd until she explained that it was a gift for her nanny who raised her -- there's a lot of that going on around here), and just spend time with her. I was always too shy before, but time moves too damned fast and I do not want to squander any more opportunities. This applies to all of my relationships, not just Mary, Mom, and Betsy.

I will shortly be having some of my own elective surgeries, although procrastinator that I am, I have been taking more time to do this than I would like to. Now that I have the financing lined up, I am going to pounce. The plan is to add the gastric band to my gastric bypass that stretched out due to the normal expansion that happens over time, and the use of Vicodin taken for so much chronic pain. We're taking very, very small amounts, like half of the smallest dose prescribed by my very conservative doctor once a day, or night actually, during flare ups, but this was just enough to numb any pain I would have felt if I overate, maybe three or four bites too many over a long period of time would be enough to stretch out my tiny newish stomach. That and the lack of exercise because of the arthritis in my knees (Another upcoming surgery -- I swear I feel like I'm opting for bionics at this point -- "We can rebuild her, we have the technology,") my fibromyalgia, the long recovery from my car accident, and a myriad of health issues and complaints, bleh.

Did I forget to mention I recently had something akin to tonsillitis, at my age? A tonsicular abscess, I think it was called. Who woulda thunk it? But yeah, there I was on a late Friday afternoon at the only otolaryngologist in town who could squeeze me in, a doctor who also happens to be Mariah Carey's otolaryngologist -- platinum thank you CD's and photos plastered all over his walls -- plus lots of other celebs. It was late and he was pissed but he fit me in because he was worried the abscess on my tonsils could obstruct my airway and I'd end up in the ER.

So I got to go to Beverly Hills and have a man I'd only just met sit as close to me as Scott does when we're screwing, and reach into my mouth with syringes and tools and do all kinds of things that made tears run down the outside corners of my eyes, while I patted him on the knees and thanked him for helping me. Ahhhh life, what a trip eh?

Bidoun Cover

A little good news here is that a photograph I took and uploaded to my account on Flickr -- I've been spending a lot of time on Flickr -- got picked up by a magazine called Bidoun that used it for their cover, and they paid me four hundred dollars for it. I needed that money soooo badly, but not as badly as my battered ego needed the boost this gave my creative self esteem. Three other photos of mine are in the process of being published in a similar way and I was even asked to submit a super macro photo of some Queen Anne's Lace, that I took on a very short but needed trip to the beach in Oxnard with Scott, for the Kew Garden's Royal Horticultural Show so one of my pictures will be competing in London for prizes. I couldn't be happier about this.

Well, I've finally come to the end of what of course has turned out to be another long entry and I've got to pee badly, so I think I'll leave this here because for once I haven't gone into the Scott material too deeply and I think I feel just safe enough to risk posting this. It occurs to me that I've asked for prayers (meditation, healing thoughts, visualizations, candle lighting, etc.,) for Mary but not for Betsy or my Mom. Would you mind sending some out for everyone, Ana, Lili and her man M. as well?

As always I have so many stories to share with you, and now that I've broken the ice, maybe I'll be able to come back and share them.

Thank you so much for your support and friendship. It means the world to me that you care. I don't feel that I deserve it, but I am grateful nevertheless, and I love you for it. I couldn't bring myself to respond to all of your kind comments on my last entry. I was feeling too raw and vulnerable but I read all of them over and over and held you all so close to my heart with so much gratitude and love. Your words and your energy may be the main thing that helped sustain me during what was a very painful but transformative time for me.

I love you,

PS: You know those really big rolls of toilet paper that they sell at the market now, the extra super duper wide ones that are like three or four rolls rolled up into one? Well, I like them, a lot. I just thought you should know.

Cat Mosaic

Eighteen Days On a Bleeding Stomach

Or; You Win The Glass Half Full Is Now a Glass Half Empty

Eighteen days I've been choking on tears
He'll say so what
he's been crying for years and years
but so have I
Lord, so have I

Without any warning he says Goodbye
but I beg him to stay
because I love the man behind his heavy eyes
Sixteen years shouldn't go to waste
No, sixteen years should not go to waste

And I didn't get here all by myself
while the love I treasured
was left on a dusty shelf
covered in smoke ignored till it bleeds
He says I abandon him
neglect all his needs
He's so blind and frightened
He's forgotten what he's done
All the loving promises
the hope that's come undone
So busy pointing fingers
So busy with his weed
He's forgotten about me, yeah
He's the one who abandoned me

I've given this heartship everything I've got
I pulled back when I was hurting
and came close when I was not
The Owl and the Pussy Cat
I know he forgot
I took him inside me
handed him my ragged heart
Now look what he does with it
as he tears it all apart

My friends all say he isn't worth me
And I can do much better
but I keep hanging on
loving and loving and loving him
like you do with a favorite sweater
After today though, maybe they've been right
Maybe it's time that I blow out the light

Eighteen days I've been burning up tears
He'll say that's nothing
He's been crying for years and years
but so have I
Lord, so have I
And I'm wondering about love
and who he cries for when he cries


Scott and I Almost Broke Up, I Freaked Out, and Our Therapist Melted Down

Hi Everybody,

I haven't been able to post any entries for over a week because Scott and I have been going through some really serious and intense relationship issues. Believe me I have wanted to. And this on top of everything else; my slowly healing, recently bleeding stomach, the pain from not being able to take the one medication that makes it possible for me to move semi-freely without pain, (The bone on bone grinding in my knees, the fibromyalgia, the burning of my bladder, etc.), -- because it exacerbates the chance of my having another abdominal hemorrhage -- and my Mother's having gone back on an extremely important financial commitment she made to me when I was so sick in Mexico, because she has conveniently forgotten having made it.

The fact that she did this in front of her housekeeper and grandson means nothing to her, "So what! Alright so I may have said I'd help you out for a few months until you're feeling better. I changed my mind. I can change my mind if I want to." The tremendous relief I felt upon my return at having this fair amount of extra financial help was simply incredible, and I just know I was beginning to heal because of it, but this only lasted for a few weeks, maybe less, and then, as always, she changed her mind. I should be used to this by now, I really should. I love her no matter what, but it still hurts and is so frustrating. I'm now more stressed about how I'm going to make ends meet than ever.

Then, just as I was trying to adjust to this, and on a day when I had worked so hard to run around and do everything I could while withstanding so much pain, (I had stopped taking Celebrex and everything, I mean EVERYTHING, was hurting), when I felt like I was being so generous, helpful, good, and forthright, wham, Scott came over and dropped a bomb that has pretty much rocked my world to it's very center.Collapse )

Hand Washing Can Be Sexy, I Can't Write Like Ronald Reagan, and Stubbing Your Vagina

I have been noticing how much I enjoy simple ordinary pleasures like brushing my teeth and washing my hands, basic things you do every day without giving that much thought to, but if you spend just that little bit extra on yourself and buy a nice toothbrush, a new kind of toothpaste, or some sweet smelling soap, or even if you just slow down and note the sensations, these things can become joyous and sensuous.

I don't know when this subject began to interest me so much, maybe lately because I've been in more pain than normal, (I had to stop taking Celebrex which makes it possible for me to ignore the fibromyalgia to a certain extent and most especially the bone grinding pain in my knees and ankle that have needed to be operated on since I was in high school), so anything that feels good, or is sensuous and pleasurable in any way kind of stands out for me. I bought this really nice grapefruit soap recently that I just adore and after I fed the new birdie, (She shakes the food off her beak and it goes flying everywhere), I washed my hands and just stopped for a moment and took my time, really enjoying the sensations, the sweet citrus scent of the soap, the bubbles that frothed up and slipped between my hands and fingers, the feel of one hand sliding against the other. It was nice.

Lately it's been the same way with brushing my teeth, but with brushing my teeth it's begun to feel so good it approaches sexuality. I think a couple of weeks ago when I hadn't had sex in a long while and was brushing my teeth I first began noticing how much I really enjoyed brushing my teeth and tongue. I have an electric toothbrush, (I know where your mind is going, if you're anything like me and own a Hitachi Magic Wand, or have ever tried that electric toothbrush on anything other than say, your teeth), and it just feels so good against my gums and on my tongue.

I've always thought that my being such a sensitive person -- someone who feels everything so acutely -- meant that perhaps my senses were just as turned up as my emotions. Since that seems to be the case, (Because believe me I feel, see, taste, and smell so many things that other people just pass by or blow off), it occurred to me that perhaps I could exchange one physical (or psychological) desire for sensation with another, namely my constant nagging desire to eat. I thought perhaps I could replace some of what I eat with other things that stimulate my senses but that don't add calories to my daily diet. Things like bath products, candles, creams, and perfumes, or other things like the way the cats feel to my touch, the warmth of their skin underneath their soft fur, the sight of fresh green grass, the way the sun feels on my skin when I take a walk, or water, how wonderful I feel whenever I'm in water. And all of this works, especially when I travel because then I am forced to get out and interact with nature, and travel usually involves not only lots of walking but swimming as well, but here at home, despite my best efforts there is still this constant craving for food.

I keep hoping that if I surround myself with things that smell really good, especially if they smell like sweet foody things, that maybe this will satiate this hunger, appeal to some primitive part of my brain that begs for the experience of eating. Or maybe it's an oral fixation having to do with being totally unwanted in utero, starved from conception to as to hide a pregnancy, and then obviously not being breast fed because I was adopted. No one had even conceived of the thought of adoptive mothers trying to stimulate their own production of milk in order to create that healthy bond between mother and child. And so I wonder, are breast fed children less likely to crave comfort from food because they got enough of that closeness and bonding from birth?

Oh, wait, no, I'll answer this myself, because Beau was breast fed for a loooong time; He loves to eat, he craves food and puts on weight as easily as I do, so that isn't the case. Well, whatever the cause of my oral fixation, years of psychiatry and therapy haven't cured or even curbed it, they've just taught me how to think a little differently about it. The point being, I'm really loving washing my hands and brushing my teeth lately, heh.

Anyone read The Reagan Diaries in this month's Vanity Fair? Clearly my journal will never be anything like them. Brief and succinct won't ever be words that will apply to my writing when I'm trying to express a thought or make a point. I guess I'll never be able to write like Reagan. Damn. Or as Reagan would write, "D--n."

Mom's Jade Cabbage

I never told you about Mother's Day. This is just one of the many gifts we gave my Mom this year. Neither of us were feeling too great and she didn't want to eat much so we just went over to give her gifts and spend some time together. I'm always collecting my Mother's and Grandmother's vintage dresses so I always have tons of those to give to her. Sometimes she appreciates them, but most of the time she just gets mad at me for "wasting my money," which frankly hurts my feelings, but what're you gonna do? She's a super practical person and she really wants me to save my/our money, while I, on the other hand, and very sentimental and see my collecting these dresses as an act of love from a daughter who loves her Mother and Grandmother. So, there were many dresses to gift her with, and she was happy looking at them. She was especially happy with the parasol print one that I recently posted here on my journal, yeay.

I had several other presents for her, I always shower her with presents, I always have, and she secretly loves it; I pieced together the whole collection of paperbacks by her latest favorite romance author, which wasn't easy, and she was excited about those, but this was the weirdest and most exciting present. It's a solid piece of carved jade that I bought from a friend who had obtained it from a friend whose Mother is elderly, moving to a much smaller home, and had to downsize. She had very fine things, the best china and crystal (Oh hang on, Kiefer Sutherland is having sex in a movie I had playing in the background, nice, gotta rewind this), all antique and in perfect condition, she didn't know the first thing about what it was worth, and she had so much stuff she didn't know what to do with it all, so her daughter gave tons of beautiful things to my friend to sell for her on eBay.

I spotted this unusual looking jade piece when I was over for a visit and just knew it was meant for Mom, but we didn't know how to determine its value. We looked on eBay and the price for carved jade pieces varies widely. All I know is that it's super heavy, in perfect condition, and had an expensive wooden base that it sits in. So my friend set a price and I got to give it to Mom. If you have any idea what it is or what it's worth, I'd love to know. I think it's a cabbage leaf.

Mom's Jade Cabbage Reverse

As far as my Mom's day went, Scott was very considerate and generous, and Beau drew me a wonderful labyrinth out of chalk in the street that I walk around whenever I get the chance.

I have the weirdest taste in television. I can't explain why exactly it is that I like the most disturbing or upsetting reality based shows, while Scott would prefer a mellow, slow paced, travel dialogue type show. I love travel shows but they have to be witty and super interesting, Michael Palin in Patagonia, backpackers looking for somewhere cheap to stay in Hong Kong, Thailand, or anything with scuba diving, but if they approach slow or dull, I just can't bear it.

But getting back to my latest and weirdest TV show interest I have recently discovered a super gruesome show on MTV called Scarred. I think, no, I know Scott would never want to watch this with me. It's basically a half hour format reality show where young skater types tell how they got the worst injuries of their lives -- how they got their scars -- complete with footage of the actual injuries, double compound fractures, bones sticking out of wrists and ankles, that kind of thing. Wow, just, wow.

And that leads me to the story Esther just told me this morning about a friend of hers who "stubbed her vagina," (Thank you Ms. Silverman, in Mexico yesterday. Memorial Day for most of the people I know who aren't American is a lot like Thanksgiving or other American holidays that don't have a lot of personal meaning for them -- a rare day off from work, and an opportunity for everyone to get together at some park, play loud music, and get good and drunk.

Esther's friend, who was born in Mexico but is now a US citizen, went with her family and friends to Rosarito Beach. They hung out at the beach all day and were still doing a fair bit of drinking and dancing at night. Drunk as all hell she decided to get up on one of those wooden picnic benches to shake it some more for her friends, when this guy decided to get up with her and dance along too. This made the bench unstable which caused her to lose her balance and fall spread legged straight down onto the hard surface of the bench. This is where the ostensible vaginal stubbing occurred, poor thing. Apparently she was in terrible pain and by the time they carried her to the hotel, her labia had swollen, no lie, to the size of a football. God only knows what she ruptured or tore inside her groin, but she ended her Memorial holiday with an ambulance ride back across the border to San Diego. Maybe, (Despite the fact that I really do feel sorry for her), I like these kinds of stories because anything that tops whatever I'm going through makes me feel a wee bit better by comparison, kind of like a really good Twelve Step meeting.

I am going to have to have knee surgery. It's something I've been able to put off since I was a teenager because for some reason I am a knee-surgery coward, (Childbirth, miscarriage followed by a D&C, urethral and bladder surgeries, exams and biopsies, visits to the ER for x-rays and stitches, and having my stomach cut and stapled in two, I can handle but the knees, knees scare me), but I seriously can't take the pain any more and my body can't handle my taking anti-inflamatories, except when I just can't stand the pain, but in order to have the knee surgery I need to get back down to a healthier weight. So... I think I'm going to go see my original weight loss surgeon and have the band added that is pretty much standard procedure now for the surgery I had, but wasn't a mere three years ago when I had mine. Here's the plan, get the okay from the gastroenterologist for the band, have the surgery for the band, continue on down the weight loss with surgical assistance path. Then if I can just take of the forty pounds I've put back on, I can start working out a little bit harder, lose more weight, get the knee surgery, get down to a lower weight, and then tackle the wrinkled sagging skin issue that is the bane of anyone who loses lots of weight. In the meantime I'll still be watching Celebrity Fit Club, and The Biggest Loser and wishing I could be one of those people.

Chances are if you've been here for a while this next bit isn't meant for you at all so please don't take this personally, but before you jump in with a comment about how I should do this "the real way" or "the hard way" or any other "right" way, please don't judge me if you've never been in my place. I am so happy for you if your body and you are able to lose weight with whatever combination of exercise, diet, and willpower that you can manage, I honestly think that is so great. But you don't know what it feels like to live in my body so you really can't know what it would be like to be me. You probably don't have PCOS which causes insulin resistance and fat storage, you probably don't have an autoimmune disease that destroyed your thyroid, and chances are you haven't spent a lifetime fighting this battle, watching your best friends eat twice what you eat while remaining thin, trying every diet only to fail and gain it all back and more, deciding to change the way you eat for life, while at the same time being unable to do the kind of exercise you really should in order to burn the numbers of calories you need to burn to get the damned weight off because you have malformed knees, flat feet, and fibromyalgia.

I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me. Hell, even I think I should still be able to be like everyone else and "Just Do It." even I still think, on some deep inner level that it's a matter of discipline and courage. But right now all I'm asking for is just a tiny bit of compassion. And again I am only directing this at those few people who turn up from time to time to flame me here on my own journal.

Okay, well, that's me, I've got a crow to feed, and a little bit of sleep to try to catch.

Love you,

Darling Archie Sleeping
Night Night from my darling Archie.

Caw Caw Caw

Fledgling Crow In My Shower

Here's our little rescued crow pal. We found her hopping around on the sidewalk by a busy street with lots of dogs, wandering stray cats, and worst of all coyotes at night.

I know that fledglings will leave their nests and spend a couple of days bopping around gaining strength in their wings before they can actually fly. I know their parents stay nearby and bring food to them. But my instinct told me that this little person wasn't about to learn to fly any time soon and was in peril so I brought her home.

He or she is learning to take food from me. We're getting used to each other. Having to feed her every three hours is a bit of a pain, especially since I just finished weaning foster kittens.

Tuesday she'll pay a visit to the vet because I want her wings to be checked and I want to know when I can release her to rejoin her flock, poor little thing. She also has these kind of wart like things on one of her wings, on her neck and by her eyes. They freak me out a bit and I want to know if they're growths or parasites and if so would we be helping her if we removed them. I'm not even thinking about how much I wouldn't want to have one of these things growing on me, ack. No worries though, I've spoken by phone with a wildlife rehabilitator and we're doing everything we can for her.

You know I've always adored crows, well, all big black birds, the bigger the better, Tower of London, scary, raven big. And I have been trying to interact with the big flock of crows that live in our neighborhood. I put food out for them but they keep their distance. I feel so blessed to have had this little baby fall into my lap. I so hope I can do justice by her.

Belated Happy Birthdays, We Have a Baby Crow, and Rosie and Elizabeth on The View

Hi Everybody,

Everyone here, (children, cats, kittens, dogs, birds, rats, fish, the assorted sugar glider), sends their love. Usually I begin entries by apologizing for having been out of touch for so long, and this is no different. I am sorry I've been out of touch for so long. It's the usual; stress, health issues, worries about money, parenting, my Mom, animal care concerns, etc. But I have to admit something to you, while I have been feeling pretty rotten here while waiting for the results of the biopsies taken from my stomach and colon, and even though I am still anemic and rarely have the energy to leave, if I've got enough energy to watch TV I'm sure I could have made some time to log in and catch up, but no, this is what I've really been doing; I've been having an affair. Yes, I've been cheating on you with...Flickr.

I can't help it, it's just so much fun. It's a visual paradise, eye candy in the extreme, and there are so many super cool and creative people there who are taking photographs and making art that blows my mind.

I got an account a long time ago but since I have my own site where I can upload images, plus I had several other places where I was stashing things, I just didn't feel I needed to make the time to figure it all out. I do this with a lot of things, which sucks, seriously, because time ticks on, and I still haven't learned how to use Adobe Photoshop, I still haven't learned how to play the guitar, I still don't have my headshots ready to go, I still don't have an agent, and on it goes.

But this Flickr thing is really sucking up my time. I don't know what happened, how I ended up there, but somehow I ended up falling in love. I'm adding people right and left. I'm slowly uploading pictures. I eeked out a little room on a crappy little Capital One credit card to buy a new scanner, took out more credit from Dell in order to get a bigger hard drive because suddenly 100 MB just isn't enough to hold all of my pictures and files, and I'm going to try to sort through and scan my artwork and put it all up there. So far I've just been putting up pictures of cats and my house, the trip to Mexico, and a few shots of my Blythe dollies, but it won't be long before I add family photos, Mom and Granny's dress collection, vintage postcards, flea market finds, my nature shots taken during walks around my neighborhood, Halloween, you name it. I wonder how long this new fascination will last.

One of the few things that I was happy to have been able to keep up with here, (Until around about last October -- I think), was to make little digital birthday comment cards with photos including that week's astrology and posting them on each of my Live Journal friend's journals. Sometimes I'd fall way behind but I always managed to catch up. But I fell behind starting last October and I feel bad about it, bad and sad because I really love you guys and it seems like the least I could do. Anyway, I'm going to try to get back to doing it again. But sadly there's just no way I'm going to be able to go back through my friend's list and make it up individually to everyone, so I made a belated birthday card for all of you, I'm posting it here, and I hope you'll forgive me?

Tinted Belated Birthday Photo LJ Pals

I honestly haven't been getting out much lately. I just haven't felt right since these stupid tests I had last week. So I've been trying to go out and do a few errands, take walks around the neighborhood, take shots to edit and play with on Flickr, and keep up with everything for Beau, the animals, and my house. Scott comes over at night. I'm slowly trying to regain my energy and get well.

Today I went over to Atra's, (My friend who lives down the street), to help her in her continuing efforts to get the licensing she needs to set up a child care center in her home. She needed me to make some phone calls and help her answer some questions she was confused about.

Afterwards I was dreading having to go to the pet store to pick up the pounds and pounds of cat litter we always need. It's too heavy for me to lift, and I'm still too anemic and weak to drive around and do too much by myself. It makes me feel kind of sad and helpless because I still don't know what's going on with me. I would have asked Esther to go with me but there was sooo much cleaning up that needed doing here at home and Beau was expecting, six, count them, six teenage pals to come over to hang out with him, so she needed to stay here.

At Atra's I really didn't know how I was going to find the energy to keep making phone calls and socialize let alone walk to the car and drive anywhere but I simply had to. I can't let the kitties down, and keeping things as clean and healthy as possible here is important to me. So I got in the car and drove around the block where I ran into Beau who was skateboarding with one of his friends.

The kids had been looking for me. They told me they'd found a baby crow and wanted me to come and help. A baby crow? A fledgling? Are you kidding me? Do you know how much I love our flock of crows? I'm nuts for them. I've been trying to bond with them for years. I put food out for them. I caw at them. I take their pictures. I LOVE crows!

I got out of my car and walked over a couple of houses and there was this adorable baby crow hopping around on the sidewalk, inches away from our busy street. He or she doesn't have more than the stubbiest of tails so there's no way he's going to be able to fly soon enough to avoid being hit by a car, eaten by a dog, cat, or one of the many coyotes we have running around the neighborhood right now. All he could do was hop and kind of waddle around. His poor parents were trying to help him by calling out to him, but he needed rescuing so I caught him and brought him home.

Normally with wild animals, baby wild animals, unless they are injured, the best thing to do is nothing. Crows generally leave their nests when they are ready and spend a couple of days hopping around exercising their wings while their parents fly back and forth feeding and watching over them. But this little guy is too small, there is no way on earth I could reach his nest to put him back, and he just isn't going to make it out there with the cars and the coyotes. It was a real wrench for me because either way he's going to suffer. If I bring him home he'll imprint on me and it'll be nearly impossible to release him again, if I leave him out he could be dead by morning. All I could do was listen to my instinct and hope it wasn't my selfish heart calling out to me instead.

Right now he's moved into my shower along with our other rescued bird and he's kind of moving around and figuring things out. I called the best bird vet I know who referred me to a wildlife rehabilitator and I think I've got it under control for now. I've been feeding him a high protein diet every three hours. He's so adorable, he opens his beak for me to feed him, and it's all pink and cute inside. I spill a lot of food, he spills a lot of food, we're getting used to this, we'll get it down. But in the meantime I have a real live baby darling crow living here in my home. I'll see what I can do about getting him strong and independent enough to return him to his flock when he's able.

I almost rescued a duck today as well. I was driving home from the pet store when I saw this small duck walking around and nibbling on grass on the parkway across from the golf course next to busy Montana Avenue. I pulled over immediately, put my flashers on and spent about an hour trying to corner and catch her without scaring her out into the street where she would definitely have been run over by the fast moving traffic.

My best guess is that she came from a small lake or pond on the golf course and I was so hoping I could catch and then release her back on the grounds, but there was just no doing it. A Japanese couple came by and watched me for a while. They were as baffled as I was about how to try to rescue this duck without endangering her any further. Finally they walked away and then eventually I had to throw in the towel. It was getting dark and there just wasn't anything I could do. Animal control won't come out that late and I couldn't think of anyone to call. I felt so bad leaving her there and all I could hope was that she would remember how to get back safely to wherever she had come from.

Like a lot of people I used my DVR to record the American Idol finale and was sorry to have missed the ending. I ended up doing the same damned thing with Lost. I recorded the one hour recap and missed the actual finale. But I did catch the Rosie/Elizabeth fight on The View, wrote about how I felt about it immediately afterwards, and then accidentally erased it. Basically the whole thing made me feel really sad and upset.

I hate it when people fight, and this felt so real to me. I was sitting here with my mouth open and my heart in my throat because I couldn't believe they went so far over the line. I felt like a little kid watching her big sisters get into a really bad fight. I actually looked around the room for someone to talk to about this but the cats sure didn't care.

I record the show every day and have been pretty invested in it, especially since Rosie came on. Barbara Walters is like my fantasy Mom. She even has an adopted daughter who has the same name as I do. Joy feels like my funny big sister. Rosie feels like the best friend I never had, and Elizabeth, well she's like the clueless little sister who you just know is going to grow out of some of her convictions and intolerance in time. I had actually thought she was making some progress.

Usually I watch the hot topics segment and then fast forward through all of the rest, unless I'm in love with the guests. I really enjoy watching these gals sitting around chatting about all of the things we're all thinking about. I know I can count on them to dish whatever the latest current events are, whatever the latest thing that's on all of our collective media fed minds, and because of this they feel like friends to me, TV friends. Water cooler buds.

Plus, you can say what you want about her, but I've really been loving Rosie. She adds so much to the show. I don't think it's possible to overstate how important having her moderate a show like this has been in advancing us socially. Can you think of another media forum this broad based where one of the main hosts regularly talks about the love she feels for her lesbian partner and their adopted children -- the life they lead together? I can't. I think it's been ground breaking. Kudos to Barbara Walters for hiring her.

I believe strongly in gay marriage. As an adopted person, the daughter of a rapist, I believe strongly in adoption. As an overweight woman I know first hand how painful it is to suffer the outright hatred and hostility that has been directed towards me by strangers I have to face when I'm out in the world. I hate racism, bigotry, homophobia, intolerance, and most of all I hate war. I'm a pacifist but I don't hate our men and women in the armed forces. I'm capable of making that distinction.

I've also had a crush on Barbra Streisand since I was about eight or nine years old and I'm an actor who appreciates what Rosie is doing for the theatre. So I have loved that she is out there talking about these things when just a few years ago Ellen was tossed out on her butt for coming out on her show. Things are changing, and they're changing for the better. The more she puts herself on the line, puts herself out there to be publicly ridiculed for being overweight, gay, and outspoken, the more we move forward. So I'm really sad that she's leaving.

Yes, she's brusque and blunt and outspoken, maybe she doesn't have the most refined style, but look how much good she does just by being herself. She talks about things that really matter to me. She takes risks. And she isn't just one more cookie cutter unrealistically thin blonde Barbie doll being shoved down my choking throat. I certainly relate more to her than to Elizabeth, even though I've been trying to like Elizabeth despite our serious differences of opinions on political issues.

The thing is that I'm an emotional person, a very emotional person, and when I get hurt, really hurt, I think I argue from a passionate place of feelings and people don't like this, they aren't accustomed to it, we're supposed to be detached and dispassionate. But real life is messy and sometimes I like messy. When it comes to arguing I'm smart and logical but like most uber sensitive people I can get caught up in the feelings and it's hard to let go of the hurt. I think that pretty much describes the way Rosie handled her end of the argument. Elizabeth on the other hand can be mean and sharp when she is put on the defensive and I seriously dislike the way she handled her end of the argument.

I think Rosie was dead on accurate when she said that this whole thing would be spun like the big fat lesbian had attacked the poor little innocent Christian girl. I've gotta tell you I would rather be the big fat lesbian over the scary high strung Republican gal who wouldn't defend someone she has been calling a friend since September any day. I just wish Rosie would ride out the last few weeks of her contract, because I'm really going to miss her.

Fin, finally.