Russ

If you read my blog with any frequency, you know my partner is Russ. I love my guy. To get a call in the middle of lunch to ask me if I have enough of fat free milk (I drink it like it's going out of style) and someone who's alway's on the lookout for Italian lemon icies (my favorite), it's nice. Russ loves me, and I love him. We have lived through a lot, and even though he snores, his head wonders off in the middle of a conversation, and is always getting on my case about forgetting my keys, it's nice.

He likes old movies from the 30's and 40's and literature classics (He's one of these guys who believes he was born in the wrong era, he's not some old geezer, in case you were wondering). I like horror and indie movies and non-fiction on the strange and mysterious, nothing wrong with that. He likes Myrna Loy and so what if I only get off on Myrna Loy if she turned cannibalistic on a bus of pre-schoolers? you can’t have the world…

He loves animals and babies look at him like he's full of tasty nouget, he is faithful, sometimes possessive (works for me), and like the hydra-headed beast guarding the mythical golden fleece, you have to go through him to get to me. I don’t have his book or street smarts, but I have wise council, intuition and I can summon dark powers (foolin'). I make him laugh, and he would lay down his life for me, THAT I truly know.

In my life, he always seemed there, and before him? I have no memory on purpose.