you won’t read a whole lot about romance on this site. Sorry.
I love romance. I love to read a good romance. But I can’t think of anything more boring than promoting my books. Even though if you haven’t already you really should give them a try!
Read me. Read me. Read me.
I’d rather talk about food or health or history or religion or dreams or ghosts or Tudor England or the calamitous Fourteenth Century or the pope or the First Century A.D. and early Christianity/Rabbinic Judaism or my favorite books (not necessarily my books) or numerous other obscure factoids.
You want to talk coffee? I have a favorite. It’s the dark, rich, chocolaty, full-bodied allegro extra-dark French whole bean. I grind it in my coffee grinder and use my REI insulated French press to brew it. I like my coffee sweet so I drop four La Perruche Pure Cane Rough Cut Cubes into my cup along with a couple tablespoons raw cream.
Chocolate? Milk chocolate (other than Hershey’s). Period. Tried to develop a taste for dark chocolate for years. Failed. Occasionally, in an emergency, I’ll eat some semi-sweet, but the rest? Forget it.
Tea? I hate green tea. There. I said it. It makes me wanna puke. What do I like? The Republic of Tea Ginger Peach with a teaspoon of raw honey.
I hate tarragon. Uck. I never met a green pepper I could tolerate. Whenever I was pregnant I couldn’t even be in the same store with a green pepper. I think green peppers should be illegal. Followed closely by a ban on broccoli. (I have strong feelings– hate, love, passion, green bitter things…)
If a food of the god’s exists it’s not ambrosia, it’s cheese. Yummmmm.
I make a point of avoiding raw mushrooms and raw nuts and seeds.
I like fresh squeezed orange juice – juice the oranges myself – but there is no way in hell I can support juicing as a lifestyle. I believe in eating food and I believe, as Richard Wrangham says in Catching Fire: How Cooking Made us Human – that cooking (and thus eating) did indeed make us human.
My wardrobe consists of jeans and one single dress which I never wear.
I love my scuffed cowboy boots.
I say this – a great horse is better than an okay man. And no, I mean actually riding the horse, a relationship with a horse. I’m not into Catherine the Great shit. I still miss my cutting horse, Image. She died way too young. She was the best friend I’ve ever had. She was beautiful.
My dog Jake is my new best friend.
I’m passionate about my kids and protective as all hell. You mess with my kids you will face a mama lion. I have needle sharp claws, big teeth, and a very long memory.
I’m married to my soul mate. If he’d married someone else I’d have seduced him and had his kid anyway. I was just that determined to have him. I know… I’m a rotten person. But in my defense, I’ve loved him since I was fourteen years old.
I hate bullies. I hate liars– especially those who use the big lie concept to promote an agenda. (Little white lies to save feelings are A-okay.)
I’m terrified of clowns and I don’t much like dolls except for Barbies and they must face the wall.
I don’t trust politicians.
I don’t like extremism.
I don’t trust the popular press.
I’m not worried about global warming, the polar bears, the penguins, or genetically modified foods. It will be okay. Polar bear populations are stable and growing in most areas, as are penguin populations. Climate change is a complicated issue. Please don’t assume the worst and don’t assume a single report in the popular press has all the answers or even some of the answers.
I worry about over-fishing, over-grazing in Africa, clean water and the number of raptors killed by wind turbines. I worry about my kids. I pray they will have a future. Isn’t that what we all pray for?
I like being a woman and I like my freedom. I am the boss of me. But I’m not stupid. Experience and commonsense have taught me that all men are not nice men.
I was a geek in high school. I was too tall, my teeth were too big, I wore glasses and braces. I was too flat-chested, too skinny, and too damn smart for my own good. And I was one messed up kid. I’ve never attended a high school reunion because it took a long time to put that dysfunction behind me.
So there you go. I believe in six degrees of separation and I believe in you.
The really nice thing about connecting online? I’ve come to realize just how intelligent, how aware, how conscious, how patient, supportive, and how totally cool you, my readers, are.
Yay you! I would love to learn what you’re passionate about.