Chiquita or DillBoy?

I was at my yoga class, doing a standing posture with my eyes closed. You know how sometimes when you close your eyes you can see shapes of dark and light sort of behind your eyelids, that sometimes look like something and sometimes look just kind of abstract, but the contrast is definitely there? Well, I was standing there with my eyes closed, breathing, when clearly as can be, I saw the definite facial contast of my cat Chiquita or DillBoy. I could see the dark outlines of the upper body, and the white markings on the face, including the white flame that extended up to the forehead in both of them. The cat was at my feet. It shocked me, and my eyes filled with tears, but I kept it together. I'm gonna say one of them appeared to me as an angel, to say hello. Yes, it could have just been a trick of the mind, but isn't everything? Or maybe it was just having watched the roomba cat. But I choose the angel visit, because of my emotional reaction. But the PTSD is very active these few days, too. The smallest thing wants to topple me.

Went to see a pre-release screening of "Milk," at Jale last night, with C & D. Ate Indian food first, and laughed about how none of us knows how the internet works. I said, "I don't even know how radio works!" We needed the Grand Lunar with us to explain it all. The movie was ok, Sean Penn and Josh Brolin were very good in it, but I found the movie deeply sexist. The complete lack of women or even an explanation about why there were no women around in the movie was blatant, given that this was a significant story of the history of the gay rights movement in the U.S.

Sleeping a lot. Really hating this cold weather. Scraped the bumper/fender of my car last night trying to parallel park. I hate these plastic bumpers. What happened to those ugly but completely protective and functional black rubber things that never showed a scratch? These new cheap bumpers have a thin layer of paint that peels off with the slightest pressure. Ratz.