So, I have domestic fantasies, of a sort.

I'm working my first shift at the yoga center here--so far things are fairly sleepy and quiet. I had miso soup for lunch. Yum.

I recently learned that another word for skin is "tegument," although I guess the meaning is closer to "site of the sense of touch," which is kind of interesting.

The Senate approved a constitutional ban on gay marriage. Ugh.

I think one day marriage will actually be a legal requirement for all couples, though. Rather, I think that this is more likely in the US than, say, detatching all the civil and financial benefits that go along with marriage from the institution itself. People refer to Mark as my husband, even though I've never introduced him that way, refer to him as my boyfriend or "partner," and I don't wear a ring. Sometimes San Diego seems pre-feminist. Actually, not just sometimes.

I suppose that even I sentimentalize the notion of family. Of course. It's just that marriage and children aren't at the heart of my sentimentalizing. I suppose I'd just mother my friends and parrots. Mark and I would have lots of parties and write a lot. One of my favorite dreams is basically about this: I'm in a large barn that is decorated for some kind of a party. I'm wearing a lovely sequined cocktail dress. But here's the key element: there are several large, gentle, purple hippos in the barn, walking around and "talking" to each other, or communicating. People float in and out and mingle with the hippos, who are loved and admired for their lovely hue, intelligence, and gentle natures. It's a very happy dream.