To my understanding there is the physical and the mental states. The physical is more of an unchanging thing. I'd be a middle aged female, whatever alterations I could do to myself. That is biological, what is in one's genes and apparatus at birth.

But the mental, now that is a constantly changing and elastic thing. I have, in my head, been in one day, an exquisitely feminine young eunuch, radiant middle aged woman full in her glory, a child of uncertain gender, and on some stiff-jointed mornings, an old person of uncertain gender. THE MIND IS FREE!!!!!

But I'll not be breaking bottles over the head of anyone who disagrees with me, however!

Laura and I did what we always do for 'alone time' - get in the car and go somewhere. But, oh, the money pinch! So we scrapped lunch plans for a movie. Better to feed the mind instead. Besides with Sam's Club samples and that baklava we bought there, we weren't starving. Oh I had lots of baklava - the brand was SINBAD, at 250 calories a cookie, I Sinned Bad!

As we stood in the line at the movie theater, we weren't sure what to watch. Laura definately didn't want to watch a romantic movie, so Notting Hill was out. We'd both heard bad things about Wild, Wild West, so that was out. I knew American Pie was about a teenager having intercourse with a pie. GROSS! The Spy Who Shagged Me also appeared lame. The web crapped out on me when I was trying to learn what the other movies were about. No wonder so few people were standing in line at the theater on a Sunday afternoon. It was down to The General's Daughter, which I'd heard nothing about, and a animated Disney version of TARZAN. Laura voted for Tarzan. There was one beginning in the next eight minutes. Tarzan it was.

I was surprised at how well the animation captured movement and emotional expression. At one point Tarzan was turning around on his haunchs, and I could see the muscle rippling under the skin. Never has a 'mere' animation make me cry profusely like this one did. Laura wants to watch it again, when it comes out on video. The soundtrack by Phil Collins is bright, bouncy and catchy. That CD will be a temptation next month, for sure.

" Visibility wasn't optimal. He wasn't licensed to fly using instruments only, and some fellow pilots suggest he should have brought a flight instructor. And he had just upgraded to a more powerful and complicated plane." Anthony Flint and Matthew Brelis, Globe Staff, 07/17/99

From the office, came Grampa's voice calling "ESTHER!". We knew it was urgent and both of us came running. He was having some kind of trouble I didn't understand. At ten years old, I wouldn't understand. She told me to get the fan and hold it at his face so he could get some air while she called the emergency phone number. Soon the paramedics came. The two strong, able men put Grandpa on a stretcher, and I held the door open for them as they carried the Grandfather laden stretcher out to the ambulance. The rhythm of its lights flashing sent further shock waves through me. I knew something was bad wrong. Hoping to comfort her, I asked Gramma if she wanted me to stay with her, but she told me I best walk back home and tell my Dad what happened.

The rest of the tale is as Gramma told it to me. She was at her daughter June's house, absorbing the news that Grampa had died. The TV was on, and footage of the astronauts walking on the moon flitted before her eyes, but she was still too stunned to take it all in. Later, forever the two events would be sealed together in her mind.

Death can be very traumatic, even when it happens to an animal friend. This morning, Shayna put Shakti's remains on a cloth-covered platter, to give all the other kitties time to understand what has happened to their fallen comrade, before she was buried. All the cats got to take a look and sniff and determine what had happened. Shakti's sister came over, and I could almost hear her telling Shakti, "Wake up, wake up, wake up! What's wrong with you?" Lots of pawing at the inert form. Then sad understanding.

As I was going about emptying the cutting table for cutting out a cape, I glanced at the nearby wall. A small oil painting of a desert mountain scene graces that wall. It was given to me by a co-worker several years ago. She was a dear older lady with white hair who'd worked for the alterations company every winter when she and her husband came to Arizona. Silvia was always very friendly and liked to talk a lot. Maybe the other seamstresses weren't so patient, but I enjoyed listening as I sewed. Anyway, when she gave me the painting she'd done, I thought it incredibly generous at the time and was a little overwhelmed.

I understand a little more today what her intentions were. Of course, she liked me and wanted to do something nice. But there was more, I'm sure. She was in her eighties, at least. I looked at the painting today, and wondered how she was going, IF she was doing. That's it, she wanted me to think again of her, and remember.

I remember, Sylvia, I remember you.

This morning, my mouth still burns. That stirfry was loaded with MSG! I'm quite allergic to it. It also makes my head feel strange, headachy, off, which I've been experiencing as well. I'll be careful to eat very careful today, no artificial anything.