Trying to keep keep busy as I've been feeling melancholy a lot of the time lately. My shrink thinks my depression is in remission and maybe it was, but it isn't anymore, hasn't been for awhile. I like to think I'm just being moody. I certainly don't want anyone else to think it's more than that. And I most definitely don't want to be put on any other meds which may cause weight gain or interfere with sex (not my wanting it, my ability to get off. And not being able to have good sex with yourself really, really bites.) I don't suffer from low self-esteem, either. I mean, I'm not at all where I thought I'd be (or wanted to be) at my age, but I'm a good mother and that's the most important job in the world. (My last girl will be grown soon enough.) Well, if nothing else, sometimes when I'm feeling this way, I do some of my best writing. (Just probably not tonight. I hate it when I'm writing and I get interrupted. Disrupts the creative flow.)

Right about now, fainting goats would be a wonderful thing to have.

Brought my niece to the airport yesterday. Didn't go hiking at all-turns out she doesn't really like that sort of thing. I told her that was okay, she was the guest. And while I was a bit disappointed, it didn't hurt my feelings any.

Trying to get caught up on the chores I was slacking from. Like mowing the yard. I was planning on going out for a little bit tonight, but when I was mowing (right about the time I quit) I got stung in my ankle by a ground hornet. A few times. It didn't hurt that much initially. I was just super-freaked out cause the last time I was stung I had a lot of swelling and it took 2-3 weeks to heal...plus I have a sister who's allergic to bees. But thankfully, it's just a little swollen and sore.

I really enjoyed the visit, but it was nice to get back to my writing. (Not so much the chores, though.) Well, I have some blogs to catch up on. (Missed reading them the past week!)

I didn't forget about the past blog challenge...but with getting ready for my niece and with the lack of privacy...and when I was thinking about it...well, one thought led to another and I'm a very visual person. I've never made porn. (Haven't met the right man yet.) But I like watching it...and I also happen to be a big fan of mirrors. (So I'm sure watching myself with someone I'm crazy about would be a huge turn-on.)

All the older kids are downtown at a dance. I may meet up with them later, but when one has a little free time, one should take advantage of it.

Went to the wilderness walk in Hayward. Didn't take a lot of pictures.



Woodchucks...my favorite. (Picture, not animal.)



A white peacock, which is actually one of my favorites there.


We also went to Tremblay's where I spent way more money than I intended. We tried to find the house I lived in as a little girl but since I just know what street and that it's with-in a few blocks of the candy store, that didn't work out to well. And we made one last stop at the cemetery before heading back home. And I have more company than just my niece. I enjoy it (cause I love cooking for others) but at the same time, it wears me out. So much that I'm thinking of going to bed instead of going downtown. Tomorrow, my niece and I are going hiking. And tomorrow night, there's a street dance that goes pretty much all night.

This is the first time I've had any privacy in over a week...and I see my therapist in about 15 minutes. And it's not likely I'll get much over the next 8 days. Picked my niece up from the airport yesterday so I'm going to be pretty busy.

Didn't finish my writing but I finally mowed the rest of my yard. I was excited earlier cause I'd spotted a painted lady butterfly, but I couldn't get close enough to get a good picture.

I'm glad I didn't sleep in this morning. (Though I might have laid in bed for a couple hours daydreaming.) I spent an hour pulling weeds this morning-before coffee-and I'me still working on laundry.

My favorite porn star is Savannah (from when I watched porn with the ex-husband.) Way back then, if I'd ever made a porno, I would have wanted to do one with her. She's dead, though, which I didn't know before today.

In "Writing Down the Bones," she says to write about your obsessions. So, while I'm getting some sun, I'm going to write about sex because that's what I've been obsessing about. (And maybe that way, I won't spend all this time in the morning writing my little scenarios in my head that I never finish.) Nothing like walking around all day, frustrated. (Though it's way more fun when you have a partner.)

Some kind of little blue butterfly.




Type of folded-winged skipper




Common buckeye; one of my favorites.




Unsure what kind this is.

My favorite sister called me earlier. She wants to fly me out for a week sometime. Just me. I haven't had a week away from both my girls ever.

When we were kids, before our mom died, she used to walk me to and from school. All the kids in the neighborhood would walk by this old woman's house to pick crab apples off her trees every morning. She'd hide in her house, waiting. With rocks.

Sometimes, I wonder how different my life would be if my mom hadn't died. If I hadn't been adopted. My adoptive parents weren't the worst parents ever. But they should have never adopted children. I'm who I am in spite of them, not because of them. I have a lot of anger towards them and I don't know if I'll ever get past it. They did some pretty horrible things. (For example, once when I was somewhere between 10-12, the one they adopted as an infant who's 5 years younger than me decided he was going to wake me up by running in my room and jumping on my stomach with both feet. I shook him by the shoulders and asked him why. He ran out of my room, laughing, telling my biological brother how I'd strangled him. My adoptive parents didn't do anything about him jumping on me. Not before, when they would have heard him plotting. Not after. They didn't say a word to him. But they ran into my room, one at a time, and choked me.) I got a general apology once, for how things were, but not an admittance of guilt so it didn't mean much. And they still go out of their way to exclude me (my sister-whom they didn't raise-had to tell them at my oldest's h.s. graduation that they needed to include me in pictures of my daughter that I raised without help from anyone.)

I don't want to be thinking about that before bed. I want to have pleasant dreams. (There's lots here to provide some stimulating distraction...)