You’ll notice I have not written here much over the past two years, and there are a lot of reasons for that. The biggest reason is that I have been so much more focused on my immediate surroundings, the people who are present, the lives that I am enriching and those that enrich mine. I have a lot to say, a lot to communicate with you, but this place, this space, this beautiful collection of a period of growth in my life, just doesn’t seem to be the right place for me right now. Rather than wait weeks and months for an update on my situation, it might be better for us to make friends on the usual social networking sites. I do tweet under this same name fairly regularly, and I have been using my Miss Avarice facebook profile more and more. The few of you who do still read, comment, and care, are very dear to me and I do not want to lose your input in my life, or the care and affection I can provide to you too. There’s a very special italiana who, like it or not, is going to be getting something tangible in the mail before the cooler weather is over. I’ve been meaning to send my love to my dear Auntie Dee for several years now. I never got to formally (as in send a handwritten note in the old-fashioned way) congratulate LBA on her recent hitching. Uncle V might’ve had a birthday.
Maybe I could think of some things to say. They mostly involve the liking of several boys and the dismal situation on the butch lesbian front. My little “sister” is getting married, I’m almost finished with my third of FIVE baby blankets, and one shawl for someone dear to me who had to birth her baby and say goodbye to him all in one day at five months gestation. I’m prepping items for a fiber art show. I’m working a sucky part time job for an attorney who can’t pay me enough or give me enough hours or, you know, any benefits to speak of. If I don’t get proper fucked soon someone’s going to get punched in the mouth. At the risk of sounding like a whiner, I am menstruating again for the third time this year. That is three times more than in the past five years combined. I mightmightmight be getting back to a place in my health journey where becoming a biological parent could be possible. Toughest part so far? Finding a coparent.
Come find me. Let’s be friends. IRL if you will. If you’ll have me? Funny dutch last name, crooked smile, curly hair, curves and all.
I love you.