Sensitive little creatures they are

Dear future hubster,
I've just realized that avocados are like women: you never know what they want from you and when they want it, and when you think you've figured it out, it's probably too late, and then you just feel guilty and ashamed and they are sad and disappointed and there is no way to fix it.  

It was just a question of time

Dear future hubster,
you could tell that I am starting to settle in: I leave my rings and earrings all over the place. So far only in my flat though.

I have a big heart, OK?

Dear future hubster,
In addition, I have to admit that I'm also in love with zucchinis. And aubergines. And red lentils. And quinoa.

And the living is easy

Dear future hubster,
my current state of heartmind could be easily summed up as: I love Hemingway and Carter.

That is the question

Dear future hubster,
classic cliché contemplation coming up: why am I trying to be somebody (=sweet and easy, sociable party girl) that I'm not? Especially when I already have long and rather successful experience of being what I like being? A host of Feed Your Friend Fridays, for instance.

Or a thrill

Dear future hubster,
I thought it was a cliché, but like most clichés, it appears to be true: seeing the growing number of stamps in my passport still gives me a chill.

The way to the heart

Dear future hubster,
there are days when the only thing I can think of is Raluca's lava cake.
Now this is not one of those days. I keep thinking of a steak, Belgian French fries, and ice cream to go with Raluca's lava cake.

Life is a dance floor

Dear future hubster,
Who would have expected that I have to come this far to finally have my skills recognized and appreciated? The day has come: I am officially responsible for music selection in the office.

The nem bakfitty way

Dear future hubster,
If and when somebody finds you with their finding and pushing limits story, and makes it sound like an easy and pleasant journey, know that they are either lying or have never really tried it. It is bloody damn terrifying. And if it isn't, you're not doing it right.

I am what I am

Dear future hubster,
in case you were wondering whether I wear heels in Africa, this is to inform you that yes, I do.
But if you had to wonder, you are probably not the one for me anyway.

The magic cure

Dear future hubster,
this is a reminder for you that when I don't get enough sleep for an extended period of time, I start feeling that the world is a terrible place, there is no hope in this life, nobody loves anybody and everything is in vain.
This is also a permission for you to remind me in those cases that it's just sleep deprivation. When you consider it necessary, please take my phone, draw the blinds and order me to take a nap.

Tell your friends

Dear future hubster,
the latest and greatest adventures of your globetrotter future wife are being published here and here. Tell your friends.