BuffaloGal

I was a professional baker for a high end grocery store for years. When I make apple or peach pie, people follow me out of the kitchen like... well... the pied piper.

When I was young I had lovely, sexy black hair almost to my waist. Now I have lovely, sexy black and silver hair almost to my waist.

I took up the guitar in my late thirties and I love it. I should have played the guitar all along instead of the piano. I'm not great, but I'm better than I ever thought I could be, and I'm my best audience.

I love spending time with my daughter. She soothes my soul. My own mother died when I was young, and it left a terrible hole in me. My daughter was able to heal me more in the first 3 weeks of her life than anything had in the preceding 20 years. I had wanted a boy, but the universe knew better than I did. No one could have been better for me than her.

Best of all, I'm happy. For a long time I didn't think that was possible, I was hideously depressed for many years. It's not that my life looks great, either; I'm sitting on the floor in a one room apartment that smells vaguely like the skunks living under the shed outside, my job doesn't pay well, I'm single and I have been for a long time, I'm not good at making friends, or being one. I have strange neurological issues. I want more children and I can't have any without expensive fertility treatments. These are undeniably real and negative things. But I'm still happy and content most of the time, and believe in my ability to solve my problems. This is a big, big thing.

Jeez, I run on and on though. Thanks for the opportunity to tell myself all this stuff, I needed to hear it tonight.

BuffaloGal