When I "grow up," I want to be 1) living in a house near a waterfall. 2) someone's role model. 3) an amalgam of Henry Higgins, my aunt Laura, and Amelie Poulain.
I'm a sucker for funky bread, international cheese, and gimmicky sweets.
Someone told me the reason I love good food is because I'm a Taurus, and the sign of the Bull is the sign of a gourmet. I figure that taste is worth the extra buck. Extra points if it's happy -- y'know, antibiotic-, cage-, pesticide-free -- and local. Budget be damned, I will not buy not-organic milk or eggs. (AMENDED: It's really hard to find organic UHT milk, and fresh milk is a pipe dream, so I've had to compromise my standards. I have no idea about the provenance of my eggs as there's no information on any of the packages... and the eggs they sell on the side of the road here, provided they themselves weren't bought from factories by the shopkeepers, well, they aren't the trustworthiest.)
I am a snob about punctuation, performance etiquette and mountains. I like arpeggios and appoggiaturas, cellos and 3/4 time.
I like the sound of pots and mugs being put away unobtrusively
and of loose cobbles or gravel under tires. I hate the sound of
people chewing (especially when their teeth clack as they do it),
or men exhaling audibly through their noses at the end of phrases.
This, along with looking like a carp and potentially harboring a
grudge against Jewish songwriters, is Garrison Keillor's only
I'm chronically passive-aggressive, and really very picky about punctuation. It's so damned easy to figure out what's right; there are a million guides online, so just flipping well do it.
One more thing: despite the username, I no longer play the bodhran. I'm over the Hibernophilia. Maybe I'll pick up the kpanlogo in Ghana!