Having had a good cry and having gotten out of the General how much he actually resented me going to Lj – having to spend five days without me was actually way too much and that’s why he didn’t let me explore the region even for three hours – I am today allowed to go to the museum and he’ll pick me up later, on his way from the store. 

Chillaxing over morning coffee and newspapers in a small cafe in a tiny town with a pretty castle at the end of the medieval street, that’s me in a nutshell of happy. These are the circumstances I am most comfortable in, so I am about 80% joyful. 81 if I happen to be chatting with the General on the phone. Would be a lot more if he agreed it tag along, but such as museums in old castles and coffee dates are heaven to me, they are a strain to him. I stole a Serbian Harper’s Bazaar, which had an actually really cool what’sherfaceChaleesi fashion shoot and an interview with a man talking about Serbian contemporary literature, which I have been paying too little attention to. The museum opens at ten and at some point I am going to have to use the restroom. It's so hot one hardly needs to pee and I haven't needed to use it for anything else in days. Nobody eats very much. It's still 99. We spend the mornings in the bungalow, reading and playing games (I continue to play chess very well in a sense that I throw something in the middle of the board at the very beginning and then save what can be saved. People who play a lot better sweat and gnaw on my moves, trying to figure out my strategy, not realizing I really, honestly have no idea what I'm doing. I never win, obviously, but the match can go on for hours, usually ending in a Pat. (Standstill) For the love of God just defeat me already!) :D

It's about an 8 mile hike to and fro the camp, which is fun in the morning. I wanted to see the Jovsi bog lands or climb up a hill to a landmark little church, for which I may run out of time. He won't be convinced to escort me in any walking, though he did join me for the waterslides yesterday :D Waterslides are awesome! They are almost as awesome as having sex on uncomfortable bungalow furniture and way more awesome as simply swimming around. Although I did succeed in teaching his mum to swim. Like most people, she has no problems with the physicality of it, she just worries she will sink. I didn't get very far getting her to trust me, so I employed the General to teach her to levitate and I just bought her a blow-up ball to work on her leg work. Two days later, we combined all her knowledge and she was making some first, confident, splashy moves. Earned her a happy kiss and a hug from her hubbie, too :D

Am reading some women's magazines psych articles, such as some guy explaining love is very rare and some people actually don't believe it exists. Wau. Really? Not even puppy love? Loving your kids? Loving art? I would lose a limb for my camera. That must be like me and God. It would be nice if it existed, but I just see it, really. Love, though. Unless the General has been Dextering me for the past nine years, faking the attraction, the curiosity, the protectiveness and the happiness, then I hate to say it, but some people don't understand shit about love. One thing the guy is right about, thought - you can't love until you accept yourself as you are. I may have an unfair advantage there. I never thought myself pretty, but I always considered myself kind of awesome (in an adventurous, conversationalist, dignified and righteous sort of sense.). And I never needed anyone to tell me I am okay. The women who work their butts off, buying expensive clothes and make-up to appear attractive to the passers-by, are kind of missing the point. You have to really like yourself, because there is no perfect or flawed, no good or bad, no pretty or ugly in the grand scale. Unless you marry for money, in which case you have to be super pretty on the skin, nobody will love you for your looks if you're a total dick on the inside. They may forgive you more, but in the long run, that is a miserable union. 

And besides ... A woman who takes care of her-self... How is that meant? A woman who does everything to APPEAR good? Putting products on your hair and skin and lips and eyelashes, to appear good-looking? Eating wrong and too little and walking in heels and tanning and using perfume ... I know I must sound like a cave woman, shunning these things, and yes, when I am on vacation I don't bathe or shower or comb my hair or wear underwear, though I do swim a lot, so I am not smelly or anything, and put on sunscreen, so my skin coincidentally appears really velvety and my hair goes into natural noodle-like dreadlocks which happen to look surfer-cool... But I couldn't care less on how I LOOK. How I AM, however, is healthy. Strong. Resilient. I have exceptional stamina when it comes to walking long distance. I can withstand hard cold or ridiculous heat and humidity. I have very healthy skin and fingernails and because I never smoked, drank, ate much meat, used any make up or used chemicals like soap on my skin, I look closer to 24 than 40. I have enormous boobs, which continue to defy gravity. It could be why my husband is so in love with me. And also I am, you know, brave, loyal, trustworthy, imaginative, chill, passionate, creative and nuts in a good way. 

Some pickies from the museum - will post a lot more after commercials. 

Just kidding :P

But really. 

Okay, clearly the coffee has kicked in. 

I wonder if they bent the sword for the burial after someone has died a coward?