Random things I love

anifani4

Floating or swimming in a pool, lake, or river

New born babies

Strong women

Apples

Finishing a quilt I made all by myself

Smell of pine trees on a hot summer day

Sound of wind in the trees

Watching chicadees at a bird feeder

Purring cats

Smiling dogs

Feeling warm and safe

SpeSHul_SnoflEHk

How did I never see this.

here's my list....

Monica

Sandy

Jen

MireyGal76

Kevindelebruere

And hope I spelled it correctly and this makes him smile :drinker:

Who doesn't love kevin He's awesome.

He doesn't friend request people though, so you totally gotta hunt him down.

SpeSHul_SnoflEHk

Kevindelebruere

And hope I spelled it correctly and this makes him smile :drinker:

Close, and yeah... It did.

It's really Kevin de la Bruere, or on here it's kevindelabruere

matt2442

waking up to an empty house

not getting called to work on friday nights!!!

MireyGal76

People dancing in posts above me

Gobstoppers jawbreakers

the gym

riding my bike faster than people younger than me

watching porn....no wiat........nevermind

Awe shucks... here's another one then!

DeterminedAshley

Cuddling.

Mayday Parade.

Concerts.

Kissing.

Sex.

Movies.

Bowling.

ARCADES.

SpeSHul_SnoflEHk

Kevindelebruere

And hope I spelled it correctly and this makes him smile :drinker:

Who doesn't love kevin He's awesome.

He doesn't friend request people though, so you totally gotta hunt him down.

Now you're just sucking up cuz you saw I was here.

But, you're right. I don't send FRs.

MireyGal76

Kevindelebruere

And hope I spelled it correctly and this makes him smile :drinker:

Who doesn't love kevin He's awesome.

He doesn't friend request people though, so you totally gotta hunt him down.

Now you're just sucking up cuz you saw I was here.

But, you're right. I don't send FRs.

actually I'm trying to pimp you out so that I can then go to your page, see that you're over 30 friends and call you a total friend *kitten*.

the irony of that still never ceases to make me giggle.

SpeSHul_SnoflEHk

Kevindelebruere

And hope I spelled it correctly and this makes him smile :drinker:

Who doesn't love kevin He's awesome.

He doesn't friend request people though, so you totally gotta hunt him down.

Now you're just sucking up cuz you saw I was here.

But, you're right. I don't send FRs.

actually I'm trying to pimp you out so that I can then go to your page, see that you're over 30 friends and call you a total friend *kitten*.

the irony of that still never ceases to make me giggle.

But I've actually been thinking about cutting. there are some peeps on my FL that don't interact, and some that aren't a good fit.

I don't think you're pimping works. I'm too intimidating as I am one of the psychotic or mean people to those who don't know me. (Which amazes me that I still get FRs from people who just see me on the forums). :laugh:

lotusspark

♥ Hot days
outdoor concerts
the ocean
blue skies
the moon
fashion
popcorn
classic films
girlie stuff
boots
designer perfume
cute animals

....on and on..lol

EvgeniZyntx

If I where to tell you, oh, the things I love, I'd be writing for a month at least, a rambling long and disconnected list of ephemera; all I love is passing moments, these instances somehow caught between this then and that then. Perhaps I only love the descriptive, how words weigh against each other and clang together and caress my thought against the curve of your hearing and the softness of understanding.

I love the music of the voices of those I knew that are no longer here, can you understand that? I'm sorry that in writing this I make you victim of my catharsis, like a cheap exhibitionist flashing past a window. But I don't care, something is pouring out.

I love the strings we weave among people, words of thoughtful common understanding, dreams shared, trials and pains. These heart strings that seem random at first, imagine weak spider webs that lead out from each of us - some break, some hang slack, and others wind around and become thick awesome ropes that are palpable - these heart strings become battle ropes that pull us here and there to the rhythm of strong arms far away. I love the strongest of these ropes, how they wind through places, lost mazes. And like so many tight and unruly things - they snap, are cut or rot with use and time.

My strongest ropes are breaking, I can't admit it, but I think my mother is dying. Not today but soon, the line is frayed - I feel the slack, the shallow weight, what is coming. I wish I believed in the world and words just as she does. You see, she taught us her strange sense of living with her dead - she spoke about them, told stories, kept them with her. She spoke to them. She truly has a sense of their being with her and amongst us - for us, the day of the dead, el Dia de los Muertos, is a celebration. I love the memories it brings.

If I can't live in the thoughts of her pixies, voices and her wise council of ghosts, I have my web of heart strings. My daughters both living and.... Well, we have dark spaces. I love the layers of my thoughts, how words weave among the laughter of a child, the curve of a hand and the dance of a neck. It all sticks like spun sugar at a fair. These are the sensation that I love, the smell of burn sugar, the noise, the laughter that sits in her eyes. The books. THE books!

I'll leave it there, you get the idea, or not. In any case, I've failed to tell you the smallest part of ... anything. I love the frustration in writing, the time lost to convey a moment and then that moment too is lost. I love that perhaps we shared a movement. Just now.

I love saying, "goodnight". Not so random, eh?

>now do I press on "post reply"?

MireyGal76

If I where to tell you, oh, the things I love, I'd be writing for a month at least, a rambling long and disconnected list of ephemera; all I love is passing moments, these instances somehow caught between this then and that then. Perhaps I only love the descriptive, how words weigh against each other and clang together and caress my thought against the curve of your hearing and the softness of understanding.

I love the music of the voices of those I knew that are no longer here, can you understand that? I'm sorry that in writing this I make you victim of my catharsis, like a cheap exhibitionist flashing past a window. But I don't care, something is pouring out.

I love the strings we weave among people, words of thoughtful common understanding, dreams shared, trials and pains. These heart strings that seem random at first, imagine weak spider webs that lead out from each of us - some break, some hang slack, and others wind around and become thick awesome ropes that are palpable - these heart strings become battle ropes that pull us here and there to the rhythm of strong arms far away. I love the strongest of these ropes, how they wind through places, lost mazes. And like so many tight and unruly things - they snap, are cut or rot with use and time.

My strongest ropes are breaking, I can't admit it, but I think my mother is dying. Not today but soon, the line is frayed - I feel the slack, the shallow weight, what is coming. I wish I believed in the world and words just as she does. You see, she taught us her strange sense of living with her dead - she spoke about them, told stories, kept them with her. She spoke to them. She truly has a sense of their being with her and amongst us - for us, the day of the dead, el Dia de los Muertos, is a celebration. I love the memories it brings.

If I can't live in the thoughts of her pixies, voices and her wise council of ghosts, I have my web of heart strings. My daughters both living and.... Well, we have dark spaces. I love the layers of my thoughts, how words weave among the laughter of a child, the curve of a hand and the dance of a neck. It all sticks like spun sugar at a fair. These are the sensation that I love, the smell of burn sugar, the noise, the laughter that sits in her eyes. The books. THE books!

I'll leave it there, you get the idea, or not. In any case, I've failed to tell you the smallest part of ... anything. I love the frustration in writing, the time lost to convey a moment and then that moment too is lost. I love that perhaps we shared a movement. Just now.

I love saying, "goodnight". Not so random, eh?

>now do I press on "post reply"?

This, in my eyes... was breathtakingly beautiful.

Positively wonderful.

Wow

MeMyCatsandI

Frosting!

Pollart77

If I where to tell you, oh, the things I love, I'd be writing for a month at least, a rambling long and disconnected list of ephemera; all I love is passing moments, these instances somehow caught between this then and that then. Perhaps I only love the descriptive, how words weigh against each other and clang together and caress my thought against the curve of your hearing and the softness of understanding.

I love the music of the voices of those I knew that are no longer here, can you understand that? I'm sorry that in writing this I make you victim of my catharsis, like a cheap exhibitionist flashing past a window. But I don't care, something is pouring out.

I love the strings we weave among people, words of thoughtful common understanding, dreams shared, trials and pains. These heart strings that seem random at first, imagine weak spider webs that lead out from each of us - some break, some hang slack, and others wind around and become thick awesome ropes that are palpable - these heart strings become battle ropes that pull us here and there to the rhythm of strong arms far away. I love the strongest of these ropes, how they wind through places, lost mazes. And like so many tight and unruly things - they snap, are cut or rot with use and time.

My strongest ropes are breaking, I can't admit it, but I think my mother is dying. Not today but soon, the line is frayed - I feel the slack, the shallow weight, what is coming. I wish I believed in the world and words just as she does. You see, she taught us her strange sense of living with her dead - she spoke about them, told stories, kept them with her. She spoke to them. She truly has a sense of their being with her and amongst us - for us, the day of the dead, el Dia de los Muertos, is a celebration. I love the memories it brings.

If I can't live in the thoughts of her pixies, voices and her wise council of ghosts, I have my web of heart strings. My daughters both living and.... Well, we have dark spaces. I love the layers of my thoughts, how words weave among the laughter of a child, the curve of a hand and the dance of a neck. It all sticks like spun sugar at a fair. These are the sensation that I love, the smell of burn sugar, the noise, the laughter that sits in her eyes. The books. THE books!

I'll leave it there, you get the idea, or not. In any case, I've failed to tell you the smallest part of ... anything. I love the frustration in writing, the time lost to convey a moment and then that moment too is lost. I love that perhaps we shared a movement. Just now.

I love saying, "goodnight". Not so random, eh?

>now do I press on "post reply"?

Wow that was amazing!

EvgeniZyntx

Thanks.

MyChocolateDiet

I love how randomly once in a while, a long while something like ^ this confuses me. Makes me feel like a mere mortal after all.

MireyGal76

when my little girl looks at me, smiles, and signs "I LOVE YOU"

when my girls climb onto my lap and snuggle.

when my cat climbs up and cuddles me, pulling my face into her chest... her soft fur and purring causing me to drift off into sleep (unless it's a work day, and then it sucks)

a good massage

the smell of stargazer (oriental) lilies in bloom

cinnamon

afternoon naps

MizVandyk

when my almost pre teen son gives me hugs in public

going for pedicures with my 4 yr old daughter

when my husband does sweet things like open the car door for me <<SWOON>>

when the weather here in south east TX is amazingly perfect(like today)

when I beat my previous time on a run

when a whole day goes by and its not chaotic, my daughter is not whining, my son is not rolling his eyes and we make it to all engagements and appointments on time unrushed...yea this one seldom happens lol

timjanice

Singing worship songs to God
spending time with my 8 year old niece
being married to a supportive husband
The smell of bath and body work lotions
Getting my done
Shopping when I have the money
Learning more about God.
Chatting with friends on facebook
Having good health..
thats it for now..

timjanice