Wild Hippie Woman

If you haven’t already met Claudia through her crystal-wit comments scattered about on Domestik Goddess, you might want to do yourself the favour of going to Dragonfly Dreaming to meet her now.

Why?
Here’s why:

I am a wild hippie woman. Natural, loving, instinctual, endangered, untamed, playful, fierce, inquisitive, artistic, intellectual, spirited, nurturing, unconquerable, melodramatic, universal and just a little bit insane. ~ Claudia

The proof is in the writing.

Baby Steps:
My need for love is devastatingly honest and utterly ugly in its completeness. My inability to accept it once given, harrowing. I have spent my life outsourcing and squeezing love from every nook, every shadow, every person. Demanding more, even when more was not available. Rejecting it once received.

Who among us would have the sheer gumption to put this kind of vullnerability right out there for our nearest-and-dearest, let along for all the world to see?

But then, on an entirely different note:

Field Day for Freud:
In my dream, I went to the library (god, am I REALLY such a book nerd that I’m even checking them out in my dreams??!) where I found… Gary [Dourdan] behind the desk. Apparently, as punishment for his crime, he was relegated to local librarian duties. His loss, my gain.

And in a moment of true civic duty, I found out what time he was getting off work and then slept with him in the backseat of his BMW.

If you’re offended by flagellant personal honesty, the occasional string of epithets, and art photography not suitable for schoolyard display, our Claudia’s blog may not be your cup of tea. But if you take an occasional splash of gin in your ladylike china cup — then by all means, wade on in!

Indiscriminate Sobriquet:
And while we are on the subject of aging, WTF is up with the Morticia like band of white that is growing out from my skull? If you’re over 5’10, skinny and a dark beauty who wears long flowing black velvet gowns 24-7 you can pull it off. When you’re me, you can’t. The End.