50 Westerly, United States
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My self-summary
Thanks for stopping by dating soldier ... ಠ_ಠ

sailed San Francisco Bay on a sun-drenched and blustery day;
stargazed from that little stream whirling past Phantom Ranch;
had the heebeegeebees in a Parisian catacomb;
been offered money by the homeless in Kenmore Square;
pitched a tent in the rocky shadow of Haleakala;
bathed in the electric buzz of Piccadilly Circle atop a double-decker;
been stung by horizontal raindrops cresting Cadillac Mountain;
rambled through New England with a trash-can rock band;
launched my convertible off a Santa Cruz mountain switchback;
drove the replacement convertible into a tractor trailer on RT 95;
never forgotten the scent of the Tsukiji Fish Market at dawn;
pilfered travertine from the Appian Way one RAINY, RAINY, RAINY day;
made the sign of Dickie's cross at Waimea Bay;
cycled the Enchanted Circle beneath an unrelenting sun;
declined partnership consideration at a Silicon Valley law firm;
returned to Rhode Island to care for my elderly parents (RIP Mom!);
toasted my Italian citizenship in the piazza of Nonno’s birth;
witnessed the evanescent clamor of Zuccotti Park;
received the stink-eye from a manta ray in the open ocean;
tried my level-best to drink-dry an open-bar at the Temple of Dendur;
skinny-dipped the inviting waters off of Vernazza; and
cheered-on the Super Friends as they posed from a fire escape in the Castro one long-ago Halloween.
What I’m doing with my life
I am 27.356228% finished with the questionnaire right now. In two years, I hope to be at least 43.3399754% finished. In five, I'll have servants do this stuff for me.

In my 3-D life you might find me staving off a bad case of inbox-creep, nesting, exorcising some corporate yoke or other, on the water, or knocking at the door of jazz guitar. I loves it so, but jazz still hurts me fingers.
I’m really good at
Sous-Chef duty! I apprenticed with my dad who specialized in the instant-oatmeal, toast, and popcorn arts. I’m compiling the definitive retrospective of his culinary oeuvre right now. It’s called "Pop's Corn".
The first things people usually notice about me
is definitely my cat, Mr. Wabbit. You can't really tell from this picture, but she has shimmering plaid fur:

' ^-----^ '
/ o o \
\__~__/ --- "wuff"
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
I like this essay-prompt. I've collected some tasty cultural baubles thanks to some other profiles.

Some things I dig:

♔ Hachikō
♔ nature's majesty
♔ the visual art's greatest hits
♔ standard fare public/lefty radio/TV
♔ Chomsky, Hedges, Moyers, Krugman, Greenwald, et al. (Basically, if Dick Cheney secretly fantasizes about sending someone to Guantanamo, I prolly dig 'em.)
♔ The New Yorker (I profoundly respect the über-read but after reading/writing all workday/week I rarely have it in me to summit a literary mountaintop these days.)
♔ discovering offbeat food (although I balked at that cube of pig fat in Castelbuono)
♔ music? only 12 tones ... hardly seems possible ...
The six things I could never do without
I'm still honing my list but odds are this question will not be on it.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
... context ... and I think I'm alone on this. Ever had this conversation?

Her: S o o o o o o o ... what's your favorite color?
Me: Are we talking about the sky or your hair?

Her: Nevermind. Is this glass half empty or half full?
Me: I don't know. Did you just drink out of it or pour into it?

Her: Ugh ... anyway ... you've NEVER been on Facebook AND you have a Nietzschean disgust for what you call the banal masses instinctively flocking there? You are, nonetheless, perfectly content to bare it all right there on OKC - naked as the eyes of a clown?
Me: Ummmmmm ... It's a big ol' goofy world, ain't it?

Her: What!?!? Either I'm obtuse or you're obscure.
Me: Whoa ... Now THAT'S hot. ô¿~

Me: Wait! What? Where are you going?
On a typical Friday night I am
... having fun filling out the forms and playing with the pencils there on the Group W bench.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
Catherine the Great had twelve consorts throughout her reign. These were known as her "favorites". OKC lets you have scores of favorites. That's just too overwhelming to even think about and, candidly, I'd be happy with just one. The one.

I don't know what she looks like or particularly care where she is. Ideally, though, she’ll be educated, balanced, loyal, and imperfect but disarmingly sincere; and we'll inspire, teach, frustrate, and forgive each other across the great sweep of time. She may have children and, if so, I understand that their actualization is a priority. Oh yeah, she’ll sometimes do this *thing* that makes me want to write bad checks and I'll be TOTALLY defenseless against it. When I finally find her (one last time!), her thoughtfulness will be reciprocated, her intellect and playful wit will be celebrated, and her happiness and growth will be taken as seriously as my own.
You should message me if
... you want to join me and my bottle of Dalwhinnie scotch as I host my very first episode of: "Ask An Important Question, Get A Drunken Answer"

Have an issue? Any issue at all? Please feel free to share and ask what can be done to alleviate your distress. I seek only to aid my fellow man. I am here for you.

Example: "So I ordered meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans; but the line cook shorted me on the green beans and the slab of meat appears to have been bitten in opposing corners. What's a poor girl to do?"

À bientôt j'espère,