one day grow old gracefully with long grey hair, no makeup, barefoot

And… what else? I’ll have a pottery wheel that I’ll putter with occasionally, and read cross-legged in a chair out on the porch. In the kitchen, I’ll make french toast and read the paper with my attractively graying husband, and on holidays, our kids and their kids will all come to stay with us, and we’ll have wacky holiday hijinks together (like in the movies!)

It’ll be grand.

with cats, and books and books and books and books

how i envisioned my future, may of 2005. still holds up:

“What I need is a mountain man, great barrel-chested mountain man, in a flannel and some heavyweight dungarees to fetch milk for, my hair blonde in two braids, to be his Heidi and have a mountain goat, Stan, my only friend. That’s what I need. Just one brilliant man, and a mountain that any seekers of me will have to cross, so inaccessible, to reach me. One brilliant man, no others around. For me to poke, study, understand. For him to cut off his prick and sew it onto me. Let me try it on for size. But I don’t have the hormones, the beating pulsing machismo. I am a girl, dainty, girly, dirty, yes, but doing just fine for suitors. If I had one grafted on, still things I just would never get. The mountain idea is out. Plain out. No mountain men remain. So I will be the best womyn I can be. And see me out and hear me out.”

I found the mountain man, praise science!

I wish I came up with this goal, I love the wording. But this will be me one day (plus cats)