Just send money. Which goes where?
Hell, my local NPR has alienated me. They want my car. I supposedly don't need it. So it gets out once a week. Over and over and over. Guess what, WAMU?! You'll have to pry my 1991 Mazda 323 from my cold, dead hands! Bloody RIP before I send you anything again! I've tithed, but no more!
I wish I could afford nice new windows overlooking Connecticut Ave. like your new Media Center has. I'll send you money again when I can live as well as that. You're not in any danger.
* * *
This is long. If I said I was simple it would be a lie. The picture is 2005. Others are more recent. I don't look much different. Blonder, since I'm greyer. And L'Oreal stopped making my favourite bleach.
I guess I have to say that I'm not all that available to many since I met Bri. No, really. He makes me happy. We have fun. We have projects, and bubbles. I'm really here for friends now.
Damn! I finally have a good question to submit and can't find where to do it and have to poke laundry.
Do you know how to fold a fitted sheet into a stackable square? Can you do it in under two minutes?
c) I only have one. It gets washed and goes back on.
d) I wad them up and dump them in a drawer.
I think it is a trivial but telling question.
That I have no clue what my husband and lovers do for their pay, and don't require it, seems to be a "must" around here. It's like the Mafia Wife. You smile and don't ask questions.
I've been hanging around this website since 2003 or-04, and have found 2 or 3 good relationships, a couple that went sour, and a lot that petered out before they began. That's okay, I think. I've read a lot of profiles, and learned a lot about what other people think like. I'm guessing that they, like I, are putting their best selves forward. We can all check each others' linens later if it becomes relevant.
So okay, after 8 years I got lucky. He's not the prise for the average girl, but I feel lucky. Some of us like (objective description of him, not how I find him) guys like him as is. At 57, he's not changing. Fine.
Over built is over built. Very "Fit" men may go back to the gym. I am not "fit", and don't seek someone one who is. "Able" will do for me.
The three words: I am ironic, iconoclastic, and literate, mostly.
Call me "negative" and I will downgrade you in my estimation of your depth of ability to look hard at the world. I just find neither Truth nor Beauty to be all sweetness and light. Not to denigrate sweetness and light. I like them right well. I just know that they are not good for painting over disgusting truths or dark, twisted beauties. How many sides does a question have?
The "details" section is inadequate. I am married 16 yrs. (who'd a thowt?), and intend to stay that way with this husband indefinitely. He has health insurance. This marriage's contract included a non-monogamy clause. Read that again. I married someone who is as non-possessive as I. It's NOT a "lifestyle", thankyou. I have a history of sexual infidelity, and I refuse to lie about it anymore. I exercise that agreement with great caution and discretion. I did not at all for the first five years. Non-monogamy does Not equal Promiscuity. I was polyamorous before there was a word for it. Probably why I haven't contracted anything (except Chlamydia, maybe once, 25 yrs. ago.) ever. I am cautious when it comes to exchange of bodily fluids beyond saliva. There: You've been warned. I'm not casual when sex is part of the question. No. I've aspired never to become a disease vector.
I am always open to friends who want a walking or talking buddy. Ehh, that's how the best things begin. Longest is Mom. Friend and Boss (not for 18 yrs.) sort of combined at the same time. Hard to explain.
So I am sort of available if you suit me wonderfully, and I suit you thus. The odds are against this, but miracles happen, so I'm told.
I wot well that I'm not meat for most men's palates. But for some I seem more than mete. Tasty, even. If you understood that pun, send me a message immediately. Definitely, even. Such are few and far between, and usually live somewhere far away; like 2 or more hours.
I am a huswif. I "cook and sew, make flowers grow" and do laundry (Stains are a specialty. I get into "things". I've gotten blood out of a turquoise shirt without damage. Wish I had done better on that Tilley. Definitely send a message if you know how to get tomato leaf stains out.). I hate vacuum cleaners as much as my pets do , but can use the horrible sucker anyway. I tend my home first but would like some mid-day, occasional evening or weekend diversions. I clean up well.
"Self summary". Self-advertisement. This is tough for someone who's her own harshest critic. I'm supposed to say what's lovely about me?! To cause someone to want to meet me?! That's bragging and boasting, the very things that have gotten me in trouble with people since I was 3, and learned to tone down by age 10.
I have a fine sense of fun, if you're a geek. I'm not a computer geek, I'm a biogeek. 'Fun' is a word as ill-defined as "love" and "friend". Fun is identifying mushrooms, moss, lichens, wildflowers, birds, and insects, and looking up their particular habits, habitats, and life cycles. Cultivating some of them. Watching birds nest, and babies fledge. I have held a fledging cardinal in/on my hand, and thought my heart would stop with wonder. Watching turtles, frogs, and fish, and looking up theirs, though most of those are familiar.
Microbiology and genetics are fun. Blood borne pathogens are fun. I can have fun doing home repairs in the company of a friend I love, such as my husband or neighbour who knows what I'm doing. Or gardening, or building something. I triumphed over my toilet with strength and WD 40. I'm pretty good with adhesives, too. I will fly kites, though I'm out of practice.
I got to liking well the guy who helped me rebuild my (necessary) deck in the middle of nowhere when I was 28. Not in any romantic way. He was admirably inventive and competent. "Competent" is, by the way, the highest of praises. As "useless" is condemnation. "Inventive" is competence an order or two of magnitude better when combined. Jim Starley (may he always please his lady) slung a fiberglass roof under an open deck to channel the water away from the foundation. I got good with a hammer and familiar with creosote. In retrospect, I should've stayed there. The guy I left for was a bad one. (Note to self: Do NOT MARRY NEW ENGLANDERS!) I think I'm safe from that now, but might fuck up again if I'm eighty.
"Like" is default for acquaintances. By the time I think of you as 'friend', Agape has made her magic. English is too short of words to distinguish between 'have warm fuzzy feelings and want to hang out with you with no sexual anything involved' (like my friend up the street), whom I love, and 'I'd like to get to know you better with an aim to bedding you sometime if it works out that way.' There's 'I'd fight to the death at your back for what we believe in.' or '...because I don't want to live without you' love. All we've got is 'love' for all kinds of different feelings. Cripes. English words are sometimes such a blunt instrument. And specifically defining one's friendly feelings can only come out long-winded and clinical. Not friendly-sounding.
I am a very anniemal ichanthrope. I understand the earth and its life forms well as any non-specialist. I ran a non-chain family pet shop for 12 yrs. Worked it for 20. Pet shops are almost as crazy as waitressing. A waitress is between the cook and a hungry customer's food. A pet store keeper is between a customer's money, love for a non-human, and conscience, maybe. Keeping pets ain't cheap. (Dog's ongoing ear troubles =$900. Cat's acute infection, $500.) No one ever loved me for saying "You need to get that beastie to a veterinarian." Yes, I am handy in the pinch, but I'm not a DVM. and veterinary medicine has evolved much since I've been called upon to do it. Ask "Stumpy". I amputated a cockatiel's plainly gangrenous foot. Sterile razor blade. I observed sterile dressings changed often. (God bless Kim.) He healed cleanly , I built him a suitable peg leg, and gave him to a very sweet lady who was a regular (she'll buy more bird food [cackles mercenarily.]), and thought he was just dishy. Stranded in the field with nothing, I wouldn't do anything blatantly stupid, and would probably be the best untrained person to call for, since my first aid kit is always up-to-date and comprehensive--for first aid. I haven't a veterinarian's training or access to useful drugs, even if I do know how to use most of the basics. Useful information on the more advanced ones is denied me by their cabal. How they stay expensive, yes?
I love beads and shiny things. Not all that glitters is gold; cheap plastic glitter glitters. Swarovski is excellent. Value is in sensible investments. I am not fooled. Glitter is fun. It's part of merriment. When I feel festive, I glitter up. Then I get it all over, and it makes me smile.
There are investments I hope will sustain us when we're very wrinkled (not lately). I want us to retire to the Marquesas.
Self-summary...I can't make up my mind what I want to eat or wear sometimes, and yet can be utterly decisive in an emergency. Calm and cool and make sure all are safe. I shake later. Just sit down and quiver all over. After all I can do has been done.
I have a temper that can be good or bad. When I lose it, merry or wrathful, people get upset. (I understand being upset over my wrath [it's very ugly, by training], but my gleefulness?!) It doesn't happen often. It is Spring. April. May. June. That time of year I fall in love even when I have no one and no thing to fall in love with except the new growth of all plants. Even Julian of Norwich understood that.
I regularly have one cat and a standard poodle sleeping 'round me, comforting and drawing comfort from me. My bonny wee beasties love me as I do them.
I also noticed a few years ago that I can't care what people look like, vis-a-vis anything. It's what they feel like to be around and how they think that makes them attractive. People I'd've thought repulsive when I was young (and foolish) are part of the scope of romantically, sexually, lovable beings now. If the being is lovable for me. No, I have no particular attraction to deformed or fat people. (I don't want to get close to most people, however built, especially overbuilt.) I'm just saying that I'm willing to find them attractive based on their nature. 'Beautiful' and 'Handsome' people who know it and exploit it sort of make me gag politely and disregard them.
Yeesh. It shouldn't be so hard to say that I'm not a bigot. If you're good-looking, please pretend you don't know it. And say something interesting. Another highly subjective standard.
I can't answer most 'yes/no' questions. Truth is seldom absolute, and the grey area is where conciliation (peace/love/joy) lies.
I am very sharp-tongued. Mean and cruel, some people with brain tumors think. But I only open up my mean vocabulary (wax Shakespearean) when provoked to do so. Mostly I'm nice. "That isn't the best cut for your figure." I smile at people. I call out "Good morning." to people. The women are charmed. The men pretend they didn't hear me. Hmm. I start short conversations in grocery stores. (I'm looking for a maroon bifold eelskin wallet.) I really am. Mine is shot. People here are so disconnected except for their short web. I don't have a defined web, so I pluck at theirs. My web is big and random. (I identified with Charlotte. I once 'spun' a web of nylon thread and many knots all over my bedroom. I was 8 or 9. It's tougher than you think.