I was watching a case of 2 babies switched at birth on Court TV. One died at age 9 and the other, now 14, went to court to cut off her biological parents cuz she wanted to remain with her family that she’s always known. A psychologist testified it’d be detrimental to her well-being and state of mind, so the judge let her stay where she was. It’s about time judges paid more attention to psychology and not biology. If I could have, I’d certainly have stayed with Anna and Harry. Not gone home, to other foster homes, hospitals, or schools.

Things have been too good to be true. First, I desperately wanted to be a singer, then I desperately wanted to be with a woman, then I wanted him to cum and for us to have a kid. Well, we have no kid yet, but it sure feels great not having some long-term overwhelming issue to deal with, unless it turns out something’s wrong with me. I hope not! This wonderful time and feeling have a scary side too, for I always wonder if there is a catch. Is something bad gonna happen now, like my inability to conceive? Or something else? Will something else go terribly wrong and stay that way indefinitely? Am I foolish to hope for a child? Love, a child and being a singer are probably the things I’ve wanted or want the most in life. I got the love, but will we be so blessed as to receive the gift of a child? Oh, I just hope this isn’t a case of enjoy-the-happy-moment-while-it-lasts, cuz the shit shall once again hit the fan, that is, of course, excluding the things we expect, like with Tom’s dad. He’s really near the end and now he’s seeing things. The cat they don’t have came running into his room and he goes out to the living room, looks at his empty chair and says, “How ya doin’?”

The birds and I have a new game. Ring around the pool. Yup, they like to follow me around the pool. So Piggy and I have our games and so do the birds and I.

Later…

Now I know the woman’s full name next door. Her phone bill was delivered here. I figured it was only a matter of time before the mailman delivered a piece of their mail here and I’d learn their full name. I guess the house is pretty much in her name. I brought the bill over there and threw it on the porch with a note saying that the mailman frequently misdelivers mail and to please toss any of ours they get into our mail slot. I know they won’t, though. Anyone who has a problem with the simple request of turning down their music on their way in and out isn’t gonna return someone else’s mail.

At least they have been quiet since it’s been really hot and I haven’t heard any music. They’re out a lot. Once the weather cools down, then I’m sure that’ll be a different story, but I’ll deal with it then.

I said I wouldn’t worry till New Year’s came and I wasn’t pregnant by then, but actually, I’ll really wonder if I get my period on the 20th, since we did it on a day where a woman has an excellent chance of conceiving. I would think that if a woman gets sprayed in 14 days after her period, she not only could be pregnant, but she should be pregnant. That is totally prime time for that.

I wonder if the inflamed cervix they say I always seem to have can cause problems. I guess not, though, cuz I’d assume that if that were possible, that Dr. Rugg I saw would’ve brought it up.

I didn’t try to see through the envelope for next door’s number, cuz I can’t imagine ever really having anything of importance to say to them. Besides, if I really had something to say, I’d go over there and say it in person.

I imagine these journals will go slower now that I don’t have so much shit to bitch about and discuss all my fears, doubts and suspicions about Tom since that’s gone.

God, please let this peace and happiness continue! Please don’t let some hefty compensation hit me! Please let us have a child!

I designed 4 journal covers. I did roses, other flowers, cactuses and a Yucca plant. There are 3 more covers that I’ll be doing.

Later…

Tomorrow my parents should get my brief, but blunt letter telling them I can’t deal with rude and selfish people. I wonder if my dad will write me a letter like the one he wrote to me when I was on Bell Rd. The one saying how upset he was that I’d talk to his wife that way, no one’s perfect, etc. Hey, I got a right to speak my mind so they can cry over it all they want. The question is, do I really give a shit anymore if he does? The more years that go by that they don’t seem to care about treating me the way they should treat me or anyone else for that matter, the less I care about them and their feelings.

Tom probably won’t be home for a few hours yet. He’s picking up groceries, as well as getting a new knob for the door of his parent’s microwave.

We’ve had very little time for sex, but hopefully this weekend will be as wonderful as last weekend was.

Linda will be 49 on the 15th of this month. She’s really getting up there. Gloria will be 37 or 38 this September 1st, then on September 2nd is hers and Emilio’s anniversary. I guess they’ll be married for about 18 years.