Scott Fitzgerald. Talking all night until the sun came up. With a quick peck on the lips and a call to my best friend. With me calling them as soon as I got home. With pie at a diner. Dance routine. Playing my ukulele for a sing-along. Jaunty roast of the neighborhood. Martial arts demonstration.
Being an ambassador. Being a famous novelist. Being leader of the free world. Creating meaningful art under an anonymous name. Bad impulse control. Anger issues. Lack of ambition. Lack of compassion. In my home while cooking. When I'm driving in traffic. When I'm happy and with friends.
When I'm walking around with headphones in. A touch of eyeliner. With a bit of blush on my cheeks. With a subtle scent. Body glitter. Tesla Model S. Yellow VW Beetle. Red BMW. Black Prius. Audrey Hepburn. A black kitty cat. Apollo, the Greek sun god. Disney villain. I would go RV camping. Or course! I can't recall. That's private information. I like any kind of romance.
I don't like song and dance routines. I love old-fashioned romance! I couldn't care less about romance. Paris, France. Spa retreat. Maui, Hawaii. Aspen, Colorado. I have no idea. I have a balanced brain, thanks. The here and now. My kids hope I do. I think I could learn to be motherly.
Not so much. I have the instincts of a mama bear. I prefer to order. I do like to cook. I like to cook, but no one likes to eat it. I could have been Rachel Ray. Bill Nye. A dog. My butt.
My legs. My abs. My arms. The party animal. The mother of the group. A wallflower. A good time. Hang out with friends and family. Go shopping. Do my chores. Go out on the town. Cross fit. Beer brewing. Make them feel welcome. Let them know who is in charge. Say hello to them. Tell them all of the latest gossip. Let them stay there. Ask them to move. Find somewhere else to park.
Pick out an outfit.
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