Dear future hubster

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.  

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.

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

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

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.