What I know about Margaret

I don’t know much about her. A crazy guerrilla chef referred her to me somehow, and FB introductions were made. There I found out a bit about her gardening, and considered it first rate, and kinda forgot about it. Then, this one night, she was a dancer or performer of some kind at a posh art event. I was working, and also fooling around a bit, sneaking drinks to the dancers and taking pics and whatnot. My kids were there, so I couldn’t get out of control; just some light boozing and harmless flirting and fun.

I didn’t recognize her back then. I would have recognized her if she carried her garden along.

Later on, I agreed to stop by the Mexican neighborhood where she lives. I was in awe of her garden, yet again. Not huge or anything, just really healthy and well kept, and clever in the use of space. I could see some nice tomatoes coming, lots of peppers, greens, sweet potatoes…

She looked gorgeous, getting ready to follow me to the avocado grove. Where no avocados exist as of now, but anyway.

One good thing about her is the good sense. She decided to spend a first date on the real (as opposed to virtual) world just hanging with me at my place, cooking and checking out my gardens and drinking wine, pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Cool. Who needs to blow money on restaurants and shit. That bit of good sense will be rewarded by theater and then dinner at a fine place, via a couple of gift certificates I was saving for something. She’s the something. My boss joked with me that she was giving me those things so I could bed a woman the old fashioned way, with dinner and a date. I laughed, but my boss doesn’t know me very well. Anyway, I’ve been in bed with her (not my boss, this new woman, I’ll call her Margarita although she’s not Spanish, Margaret then) already, but still she deserves a nice time about town, as they said in Chandler all the time, that and ‘darling’.

Her visits were a rare treat, as she seems to have all, or most, of the attributes I value the most, including of course the gardening, but also the sense of humor, the beauty -she’s a petite blonde w beautiful undetermined color eyes and the most wonderful tight round ass-, the general ease and self assurance, the originality, and the fun, deep sex. She’s visited twice so far. I relished both.

‘Nothing good ever lasts’ is one of my mantras, so I reckon at some point flaws will be found on both sides and the long list of etceteras that usually end in a more or less amicable departure from each other’s company.

‘La tercera es la vencida’, we say in Spanish: The third one is the beaten one… probably the third time I get to spend time with this beautiful woman is the one where the wine doesn’t taste so good, the veggies, tomatoes and cheese dip comes burned out of the Coleman burner, a brown recluse spider comes to annoy us, she’s off, I’m off, whatever.

In the meantime, I’m happy I’ve met her, and I haven’t felt that way about any of all the women I’ve been meeting recently. Drinking a bit and spending quality time with a woman remain high in my list of favorite pastimes. Different degrees of good times can be achieved. Margaret knows exactly what a high degree of good times means to this random human, me.

She’s strong, this woman, and has the most wonderful eyes and ass.

I should name this ‘the ramblings of a middle aged guy who still listens to The Cure, drinks too much beer and writes silly things about women’. I don’t foresee a lot of interest in it, frankly. That’s OK. I try to do more useful things most of the time. Some people have chocolate. I don’t like chocolate that much, or sweets in general, but I have a fondness for writing silly things now and then… you should try it sometime, it’s interesting, tastes like a chili pepper in your mouth, you don’t know if you like it or it’s hurting you or what. Maybe that’s the reason I like hot peppers. I dig feeling like that.

One more thing I know about Margaret, is she likes them, too. The hot peppers. Maybe the feeling too?

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