I love.....

I love learning something new - thanks to amicus, I now know that I apparently possess Morton (or Egyptian, which sounds posher) toes. That there were such defined groupings to cover variations in metatarsal bone length was something of which I'd been completely unaware.

Usually known as “Greek foot” because of the many classic Greek statues depicting same. The long second toe was, I think, aesthetically pleasing to the Greeks — maybe because of the rarity?

Yes, I must have some deep subconscious yearning for Egyptianess (watching liz taylor in the mammoth Cleopatra flick too often?) - I meant to type Greek toes. I had no idea that such variation was even considered rare.

In other news, I love getting a solid 8 hours sleep.

In my view, it’s seldom that movies or television accurately portray any profession realistically. ER doc’s seldom yell, “stat!” Attorneys only scream, “objection!” once lest they draw the ire of the judge(s).

I’ll tell you a secret: of all my doctors I’ve only one who I believe actually gives a tinker’s damn about me and I love him to pieces. He listens and explains, qualities that even my specialist’s nurses lack. He’s still practicing at 76 and looks as if he could be my firstborn son. He’s a good and honest man.

I’ve read of your passion for helping others and I’ve two wishes for you: That you have a successful matriculation (med school isn’t as tough as portrayed on television but residency can be brutal) and that you keep your kindness bloody alive during your career.

Best of luck.

I love that I've been fortunate enough to have visited three of the 4 cities mentioned in the song "I Left My Heart in San Francisco".
(I'm not really interested in visiting Rome, anyway.)

Have never had the joy of sampling roasted chestnuts.

However, I have eaten roasted lamb served with mint jelly...that's pretty damn good too

eskie - oh my gosh! Roasted chestnuts!! I bought them from street vendors in Paris and they are sooo good. I've never seen roasted chestnuts in the States (well, not on the west coast, anyway...and I don;t recall them in NY, either), and I don't understand why not.

All over London. Sell ‘em in small bags, hot and freshly roasted. First tasted roasted chestnuts at 6, I think. Mighty tasty!

I love:

My cats, they're amazing!!!
Reading
Art
Playing the violin
Psychology
Cooking
Nature
Coffee
Pokemon
Videogames
Learning languages (Italian, Japanese)
Taking walks
Autumn
Winter and snow
Harry Potter

I still love my ex-wife. She continued to love me, she wrote, even after marrying her lover-then-husband. She only wrote that she had stopped loving me seven-years after our divorce.

I love writing, even as I lack any talent.

I love London. My last trip was in 2004 and though I loathed the skyscrapers (ooo... and the gigantic ‘London Eye’ Ferris wheel!) I was comforted to find that my most beloved institutions remained.

I love the taste of juniper in good gin. (And I’m suspicious of unadulterated Scotch consumers — I believe that the preponderance of two-finger Scotch drinkers portrayed by alpha-males in media is nothing more than a stereotype.)

I love the memories of my loves and lovers. The giddiness of love blooming, the aphrodisia of love consummated.

I love Cambridge. The town and the University. Both as bucolic as any township or university can be. Nothing citified or pretentious there.

I love La Jolla, California.

I love my red KitchenAid kettle. It’s aesthetically gorgeous. It’s hefty.

I love the recurring dream that I have of walking around immediate-war-torn Berlin wearing a a smart Homburg and fine woolen garments.

I love Berlin.

I actually love, too, the German people. They’re so mindful of others, so very generous and sensible. The greatest mysteries, to me, is that they, 1) ever followed a madman and, 2) how quickly they developed into such caring peoples after WWII.

I love my Mont Blanc pens. I shouldn’t, as I can no longer write, but still...

I love the lusty flora and fauna of the northern West Coast. Oregon (for you LL), in particular.

I love each and every place that I’ve called ‘home.’ I love each and every place that I’ve visited, even (especially) Antarctica (where the local cuisine was lacking!).

I love hot Thai food in Thailand. Vietnamese food in Vietnam. Korean food in South Korea. Tiny cups of espresso in Italy. All native cuisines in their respective locales, I suppose.

I love freshly-roasted and freshly-ground dark Sumatra Mandheling coffee.

I love leftists because they represent the high ideals of humanism over the despair and despondency of mankind.

I love, wistfully, I guess, life; as horrible as it’s been at times. I was conceived in abandon and fully intend to end in as much abandon as I can muster.

I amaze myself at all of the people, objects, places and dreams that I’ve come to love again. I love this website and the deep attachments that I feel towards a handful of friends. For a long while I regretted that these friends were ‘only’ digital, not ‘real life’ friends. But I’ve come ‘round to realizing that I love, and need, both.



The loves that loves to love, the loves that love to love...

I love this thread.

***
And I will stroll the merry way
And jump the hedges first
And I will drink the clear
Clean water for to quench my thirst
And I shall watch the ferry-boats
And they'll get high
On a bluer ocean
Against tomorrow's sky
And I will never grow so old again
***

I love tattoos. I have 10 and each one represents something significant to me.

I love my visits to the cemetary. My dad was cremated, but my mom was buried. In the summer I go to her marker. I bring flowers for my mom and the 3 year old girl I dont know who is beside my mom. Turn up some rock n roll music, sing and lay backwards staring at the clouds. I know its exactly how my mom would want to be remembered, though I get odd looks from the staff. Lol.

I love the smell of cologne on men and hair shampoo on women. Hugs are good.

I love reading true crime. I find the human brain fascinating.

I also love learning about the human body. I watch autopsies and I've seen 3 different body worlds exhibits.

Oh, a couple of other things:

I love women who, like myself, have ‘Morton’s Toe,’ having a second toe longer than the ‘big’ toe. Early in life I thought it freakish but in the fourth grade (maybe third) I found a community of fellow freaks and felt some exuberance in taking lovers from that communal pool. I don’t have a foot-fetish — just a preference for being barefoot — and a comfort amongst my lovely freaks. (Even now, lacking legs, thus feet, I still love women with this queer mutation.) I’m always surprised to find that celebrities with this disorder love to photograph and post the photos of their feet.

On a similar note:

I love Katy Perry (circa 2010 C.E.): She isn’t my ‘type,’ at all, and I find some of her songs disparaging towards women (Teenage Dream — ‘you think I’m funny when I tell the punchline wrong’ — um, no; some of us don’t find coy obtuseness attractive) but she posts ridiculously high numbers of photos of her Morton-toed feet (almost fetishizing them) and she has long been the female force to be reckoned with in the music industry for some time. I probably admire her business acumen more than I love her? I’m not sure why I find her attractive, really.

I love my bonavita electric coffee machine. Six-to-ten-months ago, I would have said my Chemex coffee gadgets, but I’m no longer able to use them. The bonavita is a sort-of electronic version of the Chemex and makes damned fine coffee.

I love both high-falutin’ British black teas (Twining’s Earl Grey) and ancient hippyish Celestial Seasonings herbals.

I love a good and worthy challenge. This morning I was able to grab one pound of coffee beans from an upper kitchen shelf, something far my capabilities yesterday. Eh, I have a string of bad days followed by a good day.

I love the wicked abandon that I’ve found in living. I miss the wicked abandon that I felt at the touch of a woman.

I love/hate seasons. In SoCal we didn’t have seasons and I was taken in by the changes when we moved to the East Coast. Now I hate the bitterly cold winters which are death to large gatherings outdoors.

I love my Roman Catholicism cultural heritage, although I’m now a strident atheist. PRACTICING CATHOLICS SHOULD NOT PUSH THE TRIGGER BUTTON. I was a Latin Catholic, taught by fine Jesuits, and don’t intend this to be religious chatter, only deeply personal.

I love a simple chocolate cake.

I love self-psychoanalysizing my dreams.

I love bastardizing words, ever-creating new words from the old and dreary.

I love, in some queer way, being an outlier among outliers here. I secretly love the rapport that I have with my fellow mavericks.

I love the trust that I give and the trust given amongst friends here and in ‘real life.’ I no longer differentiate between the two.

There is just too much to love. I love that.