I am wild.

Not in that sense, although I can get pretty whirly after some good tequilla.  I’m not risky or dangerous wild, it’s more that I prefer wild.  I like things, people, animals in their natural place.  I’m never inclined to manicure or box stuff up, frame it, or put it under glass.  How can I explain this…

I’m not a big pet lover, I never have been.  I have always rationalized that I’m self centered, or too busy raising children to give pets the time they need.  I have been labeled a person that doesn’t like animals…not true.  I adore the birds that live and nest around my house and trees.  I’m a little in love with the javelina that decided to munch into one of our big barrel cactus.  I watch the quail that drink and bathe in our pool and the bunnies that try to eat just about everything Michael plants.  They are part of my home, my life and I am part of theirs.  I really love animals wild.

I prefer wild flowers, I like windows down, I want my food with stems and seeds and I enjoy biting into an apple.  I would be barefoot all the time, if that was an option.

Even when I’m in a city, I opt for open markets over fancy restaurants.  I want the back road dive, I like eating with my hands and I love listening to different languages.  I like to walk until my legs hurt and street food is yummy sitting on a curb or leaning up against a building.

I sit on rocks and toast marshmallows and if they burn…I still eat them.  Stars, fires, the beach and rest stops on a chilly night.

I have never really put it all together.  Hell, my favorite rice is even wild rice.

I may organize my makeup, make my tea the same way every time, fold my towels all facing the same direction, always shave my legs, and get my nails done, but underneath this tightly wound bundle of neurotic, I am a wild woman.  I really like the sound of that.

Oh, and I sit on the toilet seat, no paper cover, no odd hovering squat, just hiney to the seat.  Totally wild.

My thoughts from the laundry room.  I’ll Sleep on the Floor.

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