I was reading posts about people butchering their birds, building their coops, seeing pictures of people with mud and blood on their jeans, and I was thinking about my friends. I have city friends, country friends, parents and people who sneer at the idea of having children, atheist and theist, young and old the clean cut and the type of person you'd rather not have your parents meet as friends . . . all of them wonderful people in their own way, but there is one friend I have never been exposed to. I used to think they were in short supply, but this forum has proven me wrong.
I want a friend who would rather die than spend the five minutes it takes to put on make up, someone who can get dirt and who knows what else on them and not fell like they need to change clothes immediately, someone who can look at a chicken and go into ecstasy over how wonderful and gorgeous it is, but who can also look at a chicken and help me butcher it for food, and not find anything strange or repulsive about it. I want a person who willingly listens to my chicken talk . . . not only listens, but joins in.
This forum makes me hopeful I could one day meet someone like that . . . my SO comes close, but he will never develop the chicken obsessiveness I am capable of, and he finds nothing nastier than even a smidge of chicken poo on him . . . which is rather hilarious, actually.
Ah, well. I'm reading Mansfield Park by Jane Austin right now, and I gotta say, the "heroine" is the most sorry protagonist I have yet seen in a book. I keep hoping the author kills her off and finds a less mousy character to replace her with.
