self portrait

This image represents my current state of mind and body (they're intertwined, after all). My psychologist used the metaphor of an exploding planet to describe me last week, and that image has stuck. I haven't exploded yet, but my core is molten, and my outer crust is trembling in a vain attempt to keep it all together. To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm going to EXplode or IMplode, but I think the former. That would be much more freeing.

befriended, betrayed, and the babirusa

Today my zoo duties consisted of tortoise monitoring, bird show, and animal nursery. I was grateful I didn't have to lead any tours because it was so damn HOT, I would surely have died. At least this way I was able to stay in the shade and not exert myself too much.

Tortoise duty is more fun than it sounds. People are so impressed with the size and age of these animals, even though they hardly move, but they want to climb on the rocks and try to touch them, so we docents are often asked to stand guard and throw out a few tortoise facts if you can (even though I'm realizing that many of the visitors don't speak much English, which I guess shouldn't surprise me -- actually, the kids always do, but often their parents just smile at me with a vaguely clueless look in their eyes. Such is L.A.).

While I was chilling with the tortoises, I befriended a tiny little praying mantis who suddenly appeared on my wrist (he was brown, but the green ones are more striking, so here you go). He was so tiny that I couldn't even get my camera to focus on him. He crawled around my arms and shirt, and when I held him up to my face, he would always turn around and cock his tiny head at me. What was he thinking? How was he perceiving this interaction? Did he even understand that I was a fellow living creature, or did he think I was just another plant to climb on? Did he care either way?

Mr. Mantis stayed with me for about 30 minutes as I walked around the zoo. (Did you know they can be referred to as either "praying" because of their pious posture, or "preying" because of their eating habits?) At one point, another little stripey bug made an appearance, and we wondered if there was going to be a miniature nature documentary right there on my shoulder. The mantis was totally watching the other bug, like a true predator. And by we, I mean me and Tom, my frequent security escort. It's a dangerous place, that zoo, so it's always a good idea to have a flirty guy with a bicycle and a med kit nearby.

I was planning to deposit my mantis in a nice leafy area before I went home, but I selfishly chose to keep him with me as long as possible because I so enjoyed his company. But alas, somewhere near the petting zoo I suddenly realized he was gone! I don't know if they can fly, but they can certainly jump, so I'm hoping that he chose to jump off to some appealing foliage, although I think it's more likely that he jumped off into the hay and probably ended up getting stepped on or eaten by a goat. Poor little mantis!

My final shift was in the nursery, where there were some tiny tortoises (like golf-ball size), elegant young gerenuk, mellow little duikers, and the cutest baby pig you ever did see. Actually, he's a babirusa, a kind of wild boar from Asia. Homer was the runt of his litter, so they've moved him over to the nursery until he's big enough to hold his own. He's only a couple months old, and is by far the smallest critter in the nursery pen, but apparently he has a Napoleon complex, and they had to put him in his own enclosure because he was bullying the other young animals! He is SO cute. He was running all around, investigating every leaf, his little tail wagging constantly. The keeper came out and nursed him with a bottle, and then scratched his back, which he LOVED. He then jumped into his water dish (to cool off I guess), ran around some more, and then suddenly got super tired and dropped in his tracks for a nap, as young animals will do. I refuse to believe he's going to grow up to look like this.

overpopulation

The human population on this planet will double this summer alone. Not really, but damn, there are a lot of babies being born. What's going on, people?! I'm very happy for all of you, but why are there so many little monkeys being born this summer in particular? I can't remember a more abundant crop, and mostly boys to boot!

First there was handsome young Arthur in Seattle; then athletic little Jace in the Palisades; then a double-hitter the night before last with beloved Henry in Colorado and sweet Sophie in San Francisco; baby Biegel is due in two weeks; baby Wolter a few weeks after that; and little baby Abby will arrive in September. And those are just among my friends and relatives. There are several other pregnant people lurking around in the background.

I admit I do find my friends' children more charming than most. And they can be a lot of fun in small doses. But I am not tempted to procreate myself in the least. Sometimes I think it would be cool to go through the experience of pregnancy -- I mean, there's just nothing else like it, and on a certain level it's what our bodies were made to do, and it IS a miracle that you can just start a life within your belly easy as pie, and carry this little creature around for nine months and then whammo, there's a new somebody on the planet who never existed before. It's amazing, I admit it! But what the heck do you do with them once they're born?

hematophagy

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
-- John Donne, 17th century
-- Illustration by Robert Hooke, 1665

Kudos to whoever invented the flea. Its tiny mouth parts are specially designed to pierce skin and suck blood from innocent mammals (including humans) and birds. Its legs are long and well adapted for jumping. A flea can jump vertically up to seven inches and horizontally up to thirteen inches. That's about 200 times its own body length, making the flea one of the best jumpers of all known animals (relative to body size). And speaking of bodies, theirs are laterally compressed, extremely hard and polished, and able to withstand great pressure, allowing for easy movement through their hosts' fur or feathers, and making it virtually impossible to crush them. The only way I know to kill them is by drowning, or of course highly toxic chemicals.

We have fleas. We haven't had fleas for many, many years, but they're here now, with a vengeance. I hate them. Zoe hates them. Xander hates them. Frankie hates them. But we are determined to prevail over them, and KILL, KILL, KILL every last one of them. My lovely landlord is now treating all of the outside areas (where there are tons of plants, grasses, and roving cats and dogs), and will do so regularly throughout the summer. I naively bought a knock-off version of Advantage which didn't do SQUAT, but I've now been advised by two vets to wait a couple weeks before applying the real deal. So we're stuck in a horrible limbo. I know the Advantage will solve most (if not all) of our problems -- it's a wonder drug, even though it's highly toxic, and I do have some reservations about rubbing toxic chemicals on my little pets. I'm just itching to use it (literally)! In the meantime, I'm spraying OFF on my legs, and putting the cats through a rigorous daily grooming routine in which many bastardly fleas are combed out and drowned in soapy water, struggling for survival in their own tiny bloodbath. I've also ordered some special cedar oil spray which is supposed to be an effective, non-toxic, repellent (See William Blake's "Ghost of a Flea" at upper left.)

I feel so low being infested with fleas like this: sub-human. But really, haven't humans always had an intimate relationship with fleas, and not just because of the pets and livestock that we keep? I'm sure my beloved Jondalar from "Clan of the Cave Bear" had fleas. And I'm sure all the Pellucidarians at the center of the earth have fleas. And haven't most people had fleas (and worse) throughout most of our history (especially in Europe)? Fleas are just one more little piece of nature, right? That doesn't mean I have to like them though, and I will not succumb to them the way the bulk of Europe did in the fourteenth century. I won't!

beasties

Last night I volunteered at the LA Zoo's major annual fund raising party, the Beastly Ball. Apparently volunteer positions for this event are highly coveted, so I was very honored to be selected to participate as such a recent graduate. I guess I made a good impression on somebody. :-) This year's honoree was the lovely Betty White (seen here with a young crocodilian). I was assigned to the silent auction, and worked a table with lots of winery tours and dinner packages for guests to bid on. There was great music, a giant grasshopper man bouncing around, and my favorite restaurant, Malo, had a table set up right across the way. It was immense fun watching all the fancy people with their jungle themed jewels and fancy dresses, high-priced faces and hair-dos. The silent auction ended at 8:15, and we were then free to watch the main program. The entire entry courtyard had been transformed into a shimmering dining hall and dance floor, and I rubbed elbows with Betty White and Mayor Villaragosa before getting drawn back out for more volunteer work handing out the auction items to their winners as they left the party. It was actually a lot of fun, but I was exhausted by the end of it because I'd been there since 9:00 a.m.

My shift started out that morning at the Meerkat hotspot, answering questions and talking about how one meerkat is always on guard duty, watching the sky and surrounding areas for predators. There was much talk about the movie Madagascar (no, these are not lemurs), which I had to re-direct to the Lion King (if you must have a movie parallel).

I then walked down to the front gate to help mitigate the misinformation being spread by the International Day of Action for Elephants in Zoos protesters. Their cause is worthy, but unfortunately they're barking up the wrong tree in this particular case. I took one of their flyers, which talked all about the cruelty that elephants suffer in captivity. It's all true -- elephants do suffer a great deal in many places around the world -- but not at the LA Zoo, or any zoo of any quality. Perhaps we shouldn't keep elephants in captivity at all. Perhaps it's a selfish notion to think that we have a right to see elephants in Los Angeles, or anywhere outside their native habitats. But if it weren't for the educational and conservation efforts of places like the LA Zoo, we wouldn't have any elephants at all, in zoos or in the wild. I do agree that elephants should only be kept by zoos that are able to provide them with very large enclosures, and plenty of stimulation, enrichment, and companionship with other elephants. If you can't do that, you shouldn't have elephants. But if you can, I believe that experiencing an elephant in the flesh at a quality zoo can really help people appreciate them in a way that no other experience can, and that will hopefully lead to greater awareness of their plight in the wild, and ultimately their protection and preservation. I tried to explain this briefly to a couple of the young protesters who were carrying signs about how many elephants have died at the LA Zoo. I asked them where they got their information, and they laughed nervously and said they didn't really know, they were just given these signs to carry. What the hell, people? If you don't even know the facts, what on earth is motivating you to stand outside in the hot sun trying to convince people that the LA Zoo is evil when there are TONS of other things going on that really ARE evil? Talk about misdirected energy.

I realize that zoos are not for everyone, and I respect the fact that many people dislike zoos and choose not to patronize them. But I think the issues around keeping captive animals are fascinating and complex, and I believe that modern zoos can do much more good than harm in the broader crusade to preserve our wild habitats and the creatures that live within them. That's what motivates me to wear khaki pants and a white safari shirt, and trek around in the hot sun every other weekend, trying to disseminate little bits of information to people about the awesomeness of animals.

the spectacular gerome

A new exhibition just opened at the Getty Center, and I'm absolutely smitten. The Spectacular Art of Jean-Léon Gérôme is truly spectacular. I've always loved his exotic, erotic, orientalism, but of course he's been considered almost kitsch for so long. It's high time his work was re-examined, and that's exactly what this exhibition does. The man was prolific, to say the least, and his images have been incredibly influential, both in the visual arts, and in the film industry. You must go see this exhibition, and let it soak into your psyche.

Perhaps his images are overly romanticized, and some might even be considered racially or sexually inappropriate in today's hyper-politically-correct world, but how can you not swoon over the opulent colors and photographic details of Moroccan tilework and textiles? How can you not wish to be transported to that exotic land of beauty and leisure, noble death and dramatic flair? How can you refuse your imagination to run wild among images of gladiators, and crucified Christians being set ablaze in the arena while lions and tigers are released to devour the unfortunate martyrs in the center of the stage?

And then there's Napoleon. Anything involving Napoleon is awesome. I love the man! Here he is, facing down the Sphinx of all things, during his Egyptian campaign. What's not to love about this painting? The beauty, the drama, the historic impact, the romance. Sigh. Swoon.

What else can I say? I only had a chance to breeze through the exhibition this week, but I'm definitely going back for more. I want to read all about this stuff, buy all the books and souvenirs, make Gerome's exotic snake charmers and bath houses part of the secret happy place in my brain to which I can retreat when the going gets tough and I need a little escapism. Yum, yum, YUM!

Mrs. G2B

What the hell is this, and what does it mean?

I've been engaged to Mr. G for over a month now. It's a big transition for both of us, but it's going well. We're taking our sweet time, not setting any wedding dates, not even planning to move in together any time soon. Good man that he is, Mr. G is taking the whole thing very seriously, and trying to rise to the challenge of being a good future husband. Goofball that I am, I'm feeling smothered one moment, and then lonely the next moment (hence my new nickname: Hippo, for hypocrite); incredibly grateful and full of love yet another moment, and ready to run for the hills the next moment. I do believe it will all settle out when the time is right, and that's the whole purpose of the engagement period: to test out this new dimension to your relationship and make sure you're both comfortable with it and with each other. Right? Right. :-)

And what's with that scar on my middle finger?