Hello darling, it smells wonderful up here, half a turkey is roasting in the oven, thanksgivingy aroma at the cusp of spring, on a day that was so mild that I found myself ironing (bah!) a blouse, that I wore over a longsleeved tee, and I didn't feel in the slightest bit attractive in it, only frumpy. D said I looked very 'country transplanted from the city' and I couldn't tell if that was good or bad, he said good, but all I knew was that I didn't feel attractive or good in it - it was one of those days. I had twenty something dollars in my wallet, so when D came home for lunch I took the car and went to the supermarket and bought mostly veg to go with the turkey -- you know, my usual, the caramelizing chunked root vegetables - butternut squash, sweet potato, carrot - plus brussel sprouts. Do you detect a serious lack of innovation in my cooking? I am no fan, really, of cookbooks, or food magazines, or whatever. Honestly, I'm pretty happy with the tried & true, as a home cook, that is - because at a restaurant I'd order the foie gras or sweetbreads.

After the supermarket I negotiated the badlands of the asphalted parking lot (a no-man's land of crazy driving) and basically went around the corner (what it would have been, in pedestrian-friendly Cobble Hill, Brooklyn terms) to the local department store, where I found a pair of not exactly sexy (the heel is chunky rather than stiletto) heels that I think would look good with jeans -- you know, elongating my 'vera farmiga legs.' Ha!

And I responded in a desultory way to a couple of regionally farflung ads today ("would you consider a 52-year old unhappily married woman stuck in the boonies north of Hudson?").

and then - after a day that included strong wind gusts, a walk, & a workout - settled down at the computer (kicking Gwynnie off, so that I could take my Starship chair) --

and caught up on Cary Tennis columns, to which I've developed an allergic apprehensiveness -- oh nothing to do with C.T., I enjoy him, the queries he selects, his ruminative, associative, intuitive responses...

reading his latest, led me to finally google 'myers briggs personality test' because I am always clueless as to what it means when some of the advice-seekers to C.T. self-identify as some four-capitalized-letter acronym -- of which I don't have a clue, but others understand, it seems, as readily, I suppose, as card-sharks, who know hearts from spades from diamonds from --- what's the other one?

So it seems that I might be an INFP. I took an online test, and answered most of the questions easily, handily, without having to think them through too much. Others gave me pause -- and I felt that - in a 'yes/no' scenario, I could have answered either way. So -- who knows, if that's truly my type.

But then I googled some more -- and I'm drawn to whatever the four capital letters are of 1.0 [oh sorry, I don't have the letters handy] -- but it's a kind of attraction of opposites, like a carwreck. It doesn't mesh.

And then there's ENFJ -- I think that is - or was D --

and my 'second-best' love match is an ESFJ -- that describes you, I think, darling

which is interesting -- that I can relate to both those descriptions...

It actually makes me feel a little better about the weird world of venturing out via CL that I've been experiencing...

people are obsessed about trading pics, and then it goes awry - because as one poster today noted - Father Time isn't kind

and if - some of us - are looking for 'emotional connection', not just FWB NSA

then maybe it makes more sense to describe one's self in terms of these capitalized acronyms

I don't know
because I suppose that notion is what has engendered all the match dot com type venues --- the perfect algorithms

I know there isn't a perfect algorithm

sometimes I wonder -- should I try to work things out with D?

I don't really know the answer to that, or if it's possible

but having done the most lightweight, desultory research on personality types and natural affinities & "love matches"
I know that my trying to venture out in some fashion, out there, won't go so easily

oh - and so that's another point I wished to make actually -
that I really liked the guy who I had a few glasses of wine with

(oh thank you, Mister Generous - in every way, buying me several glasses of wine, while he remained the Designated Driver -- because in this party-controlled state, they're all over afternoon trysts - have you had anything to drink this afternoon sir?

And who has five thousand dollars for a lawyer, asked the barmaid, rolling her eyes, as she poured me a glass of sauvignon blanc because 'we're out of the [magnum of] pinot grigio... there's chardonnay... [shudder, too perfumey, oakey] -- or sauvignon blanc' --- yes please! And the barmaid having fished out that bottle -- it was a small one, possibly quite good, and she gave me a glass of ice, which my Drinks Date, who'd peeled off some bills, paid for...

I could keep going in this vein...)

he & I enjoyed talking to each other, and he stood me a few drinks
all conjured, by the way, without benefit of 'your pic gets mine'
but what if -- while we really did enjoy conversing -- we're not the right melding personality types, never mind physical looks?

I can imagine that someone somewhere is doing a Giant Sarcastic Eyeroll - if you have to ask...

oh color me...

***

dearest -- oh I don't know
I'm glad you and I discovered each other, connected
my dearest, of compatible capitalized letters -
like mahjong tiles? I don't know --


***
I think the half-turkey, at 325, may be about done
time to crank up the heat
put in the root vegetables
two pans of them -- they spilled over -- there was an over-exuberance
so I spread them to two
with a bit of garlic, and sea salt, and fresh ground pepper,
and brussel sprouts, halved, spots of bright clear green
not young & leafy like greens
but crisp & burgeoning & exciting
nothing at all - at all - like mini-cabbages
of a different disposition entirely