Things I like very much.

I like surprising people who feel my muscles. I like how at first they’re all humoring me and prepping some comment about my guns, and then their eyes widen and they swear and they don’t have a smart comment after all. I didn’t think so.

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I like my dahlia very much. Dahlias are my favorite flower in the world. I plant daffodils because my Daddy likes them and I plant gardenias to bring into my bedroom on a hot summer night. I grow honeysuckle for the scent and salvias for hummingbirds. But if I could, I’d turn over every inch of my yard to dahlias. I can’t, because they’re expensive and because I don’t have much luck growing them. But I love them.

There’re two dahlia gardens in Golden Gate Park, and a boy could win nearly infinite points by offering to go there with me. He could even bring a book and read nearby while I hang over the rail to get closer to the dahlias. Best that he bring a long book. My other friend Megan said that she read a long rant against dahlias somewhere, saying that they’re obvious and unsubtle, “a blowsy whore of a flower.” She says that she hasn’t looked at a dahlia the same way since. Well, I tell you what. If I met the author of that rant, we would have a disagreement!

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I like that my streak of reading non-fiction has given way to a streak of reading bodice-rippers. I requested the entire list of well-reviewed books from SmartBitchesTrashyBooks from my library, and it has been all heaving breasts and dramatic declarations of eternal devotion for me.  Good.  I think that sets the right tone for summer, don't you?