Welcome. I'm a pain in the ass with a big heart. I am not succinct. I am excellent in the kitchen, excellent at the spoken and written word, and need some help with decor. I'm well-traveled and well-read, and I plan to travel and read a great deal more.
I judge ice cream lines by their strawberry. Some of them need to taste a hell of a lot more like strawberries. Actually, let's just get a lot of strawberries. No, I said a lot. Did you bring any strawberries for yourself because this flat is mine. I get a little a possessive around large amounts of summer fruit.
I am loyal but not easy, and I love narrative and non-narrative equally. I can be easily distracted.
I dream of following in E.B. & Katharine White's footsteps quite often.
Unions and public servants and universal human rights, I like those. I'm the daughter of a nurse-midwife and a social worker, and I'm an artist and librarian, and if none of that makes any sense to you, this probably won't be a go.
Above all, I am given to telling stories, and being there when stories are told.
What you see is more what you get than it used to be--but I still think there's an element of deception or surprise. I seem to have hidden depths.
Horn sections. Damn I love those.
I probably haven't seen too many of the movies you love. Please enjoy educating me. Or don't. Except I won't watch most horror movies. I get scared.
I love love love watching anyone do anything with great competence, or talk about how they love their job. Documentaries and DVD extras provide this pleasure in spades.
Food. Produce. In large quantities. Fruit and flowers. Noodles and bread and sweets and spicy. I like to make food and to bake food and to pick it and to play with it.
Mad Max: Fury Road left you filled with inchoate longings, gleeful confusion, and a kind of desperate happiness, and you need to talk about it.