Gary came over the other night for free chicken salad, a present I got him from the Ashe County Cheese Factory (Desert Fire Hot Hot Hot - with a name like that, it screamed Gary), and talky-times. We got to talking about the boys and the ladies of our lives. I'm pretty sure he very gently, very softly implied that I was acting a little like a tramp not too long ago. However, this was tempered with him telling me, in essence, that I needn't sell myself short all the time, that I'm worth waiting for, and all-in-all that I'm a good sort of person who any boy should have to work for to be with. Which I thought was very sweet of him. I'm slowly trying to learn this lesson myself.
Which leads me to T. You know, I was really doing fine with this whole "I haven't seen you in weeks and you won't be back for another 2 but I know you're having a good time so that's ok" thing until he posted pictures online and when I saw them I went "omgzerz miss yooou" like a 12 year old girl. Hmmph.
The last few days have been about reading, painting, and discovering lost joys (such as jewelry making and wine nights).
PS! I have eight types of cheese in my fridge, y'all. I am the cheese master. I should probably make a quiche.

I love you dearly and miss you. I will celebrate good times with you when the monster project that makes me want to start smoking is done.
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