"It's not a habit...it's cool...I feel alive...if you don't have it you're on the other side...I'm not an addict...maybe that's a lie..."
I'm a dancer and a prancer and a yoga romancer (and I make gargoyle poster windows; a few are displayed in my picture profile). I run 6.2 miles a year. I have a hard time wearing hats and an even harder time talking on the phone. It will be a frightful day if ever I am forced to do both simultaneously. I am old; not dead. Although the code by which my husband and I live will not be broadcast here, it will become clear as you get to know me (and him). It behooves me to mention that I will seldom respond to a single male unless he: a) has something interesting and/or intelligent to say, b) has a gorgeous lady friend who's equally as interested or c) is hot (I never claimed to lack superficiality). I often smile for no apparent reason (because, although not always apparent, my reasons are abundant). I could very well be too talkative and won't be the least bit offended if you tell me to shut the fuck up. I feel I am on this Earth to appreciate: sugar, nutella, gray areas, old people, the warmth of the sun, the way my kids' faces look during sleep, teachers, the concept of infinity, the body of a woman, the face of a man who attempts to hold back his smile, intense eyes, my husband's calves, the scent of my son's neck, my daughter's intention, grins, rich soil, a woman dancing, a man holding a child, vanilla, fantasies, the smell of old books, wit, fire engines, anticipation, soft skin, mispronunciations out of the mouths of kids, the sound of "I love you" and the fact that my heart...beats.
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