Jumble
This morning I experienced the cognitive dissonance (mental discomfort) of seeing a sheriff directing traffic who looked a decade younger than moi � a fresh-skinned, buzz-cut, baby-faced dude directing traffic a car that had been broadsided. I felt suddenly mature as the skin crackled around my eyes and mouth. Hear that, Oil-of-Olay, this discomfort may make me ready to exploit by the purveyors of beauty in a bottle if it remains. However, when I think about aging I�m much less worried by wrinkles than I am concerned about losing my dexterity and agility.
One thing being pregnant has taught me is that I enjoy being able to get around without having to plot every move. I enjoy movement that is unrestricted and easy. The pregnant body � distended, engorged, strained � offers much more restricted movement than the pre-pregnant body. This taste I have had of advanced age in the form of limited movement has given me a fear and foreboding. I hope I can remain fit and physically active, if wrinkled, until my demise. That is why I forced myself up those stairs in Catalina, gotta keep moving.
To keep in this theme I will now Relate a strange incident I experienced earlier this week. On Wednesday as I walked into work from my parking space several blocks away I encountered a butterfly. It was lying on its back on the sidewalk. I thought it dead. I picked it up to examine it and thought briefly of bringing it into work to adorn my desk (it had long black wings, speckled with light yellow and white dots), but it was not yet dead. As I held it in my hand its antennae waved slowly and it seemed Not Quite Dead. I couldn�t bring myself to drag it into my sterile, boring, sarcophagus-like office to die, so I found a flowering bush and left it there, feeling sad for the expiring life I held in my hand.
I crossed the street to continue on my way to work and looking down to avoid the accumulation of dog poo that lazy dog-owners leave on our block, what do I see? I giant brown cockroach carcass. My reaction was much different. I didn�t think for one moment of picking it up and bringing it to work (although now I am amused by that thought). I looked away and had to think nice thoughts to avert the queasiness in my stomach. Two bugs, two different reactions�there�s an analogy here somewhere, but I am too lazy to excavate it.