just in case i haven't mentioned it before, i love tom robbins. just finished another one of his crazy books. i guess he's so great cuz when i'm reading him, i feel like he's truly an artist, an artist who works with words as his medium. unlike other authors, you don't merely read his books for plot, most people can come up with at least semi-interesting plots, instead you read his books for his wordplay, metaphors, and his ability to make you think. not to say his plots aren't interesting, they're crazy. there's another thing i love about 'em, they're so unpredictable. and they're so full of all sorts of philosophies, ideas and wacko theories, the guy is nuts. but that's a part of his genius, anything to get us thinking.

anywhoo, back in alexandria. beetles aren't out yet. they're out in fields south of us, though. boo. T S Eliot and Bill Bob (my turtles) came with me. t s isn't doing so well. he's got no energy and keeps looking at me reproachfully. so sad! Bill bob, on the other hand, is going crazy. he's been pawing at the container walls forever. i don't think i want anymore pets, every time i look at them or play with them, i get so guilty for keeping them so confined. i used to want so many pets i'd have a petting zoo in my house, but i don't think i could handle the guilt every time the frog hopped into a glass wall or the dog looked out the window wistfully or the llama got in a fight with the iguana or the giraffe's head hit the ceiling or... :) maybe i'll just buy a zoo. or a wildlife refuge. someday...