I’m going to be hibernating in my bedroom for a few more hours. This is because we’ve had a cool spell the last 3 days and we’ve already killed the pilots on the wall heaters. I now have the portable one on now in the bedroom. The good news, though, is that it’s supposed to hit 80º today and I don’t think it’ll get this cool again until next winter. The days have been fairly warm. Between 80º - 90º. It’s just that the last few days were only 70º - 75º and it got chilly at night. With Arizona being so dry, the 50s here feel much cooler than the 50s in MA.

Goldie called yesterday. I spoke to both her and Al and Tom talked to Goldie. They’re doing fine and are very happy about my surgery going a hell of a lot better than last time and that it’s pretty much over. All I have to deal with now are a few follow-ups and I can’t fucking wait to get this bandage off. It’s not that it’s painful or even that uncomfortable, it’s just itchy here and there. My arm’s itchy, too. If my scalp itches, I can’t scratch it for the most part as 80% of my scalp is covered.

Did I yet mention that Tom got his hair cut about a week ago? Although I like his hair longer better, it really doesn’t look bad at all. I was thinking he may end up looking rather geeky.

He tried to “shock” his system the other day. I had told him how I was almost starving myself for 3 days or so back in Sept. of ‘85 to lose weight. I told him how after trying so many hopeless and useless things, I had discovered the key to weight loss was in your metabolism. I stopped counting calories and believing it was what I ate as well as how much. I told him it takes several tries. I sure as hell had to try a million times before I could muster up enough will to eat only a few bites, drink liquids, and take vitamins. Especially when I did this at the time I was working at the Harley Hotel in Enfield, CT with all that free delicious food for lunch.

Anyway, I’m bigger than I have been in a while and am sick of the bulk of my favorite clothes being too tight, so I’m gonna “shock” my system for a couple of days or so. The thing of it is, though, believe it or not, it’s sometimes easier to lose and keep off a lot of weight than it is to do so with 5-10 pounds. What the scale says, though, is irrelevant; it’s what the measurements say. Mine could afford to drop 2-3 inches. Tom, who tells me I look fine, says I’m already too light to lose more weight. I can only tone and try to change my shape and the answer to that is exercise. Perhaps he’s right. However, we can’t change our shapes. We can only control it and alter it a bit, but I cannot exercise now anyway. My upper body is still firm, but my lower could definitely use some tightening up.

I suppose most people would tell themselves not to bother if they’re gonna try getting pregnant in the next few months, but you know I can’t believe, think, or live that way. I work with and make do with what’s happening today and I don’t count on nothing. Especially something as incredible as my getting pregnant. Incredible seeming, that is.

I was going to try to coax back my sixth sense, but it just has never been the same since being out here. Who knows if it’ll ever be like it used to be in the future? Especially when I never asked for it in the first place. Perhaps I’ll always have a little more of it than the average person, though. In my opinion, it was my compensation for getting here and getting what I’ve gotten here. If I’m right, then that’s a fine trade-off as far as I’m concerned. Something far more important could’ve been taken away from me instead. The sense of me getting pregnant in April and in the next journal is dwindling. It’s slowly fading, but June is, well, I’m not so sure yet. Regardless of whether or not I’m sterile, I still say that if Tom doesn’t cum by mid-late June or so, he never will. He still continues to talk more sure of and positive about a baby and has always, and still is dropping hints about getting pregnant in June. Well, since I’ve known him he’s been 98% right about lots of things, so we’ll have to wait and see.

There’s still a small part of me that cringes with fear and doubt over the thought of a kid. I wish I could know for sure just how it’d be for both of us. Well, I do believe strongly enough that whatever’s up there has no plans for me to die in the next 10-15 years, so if it truly is a death sentence for me, then it will make sure I’m sterile or that he never ever cums. If I have one and it kills me, then so much for that 10-15 year feeling of life. If I still have one and am miserable or it ruins our marriage, then maybe it wants me cursed and miserable again. I’ll have no idea until and if anything happens. At least all-out suffering and misery are what I feel is the least likely. Otherwise, I’d never have gotten to Arizona. Or if I did, my life here would’ve been made as shitty as in S. Deerfield or even Norwich.