My typist and I are supposed to share this journal, but it looks like the typist gets the majority of the posting. It's fair, I guess, since I get the larger share on MU*s.
Butterfluff is a cook, and has done romantic and grief counselling on various mucks, even officiating at one pawfasting. It has offspring, reproducing by splitting into smaller fluffs. It also tries to help new members of the muck community in building homes and detailing themselves. The fluff is also likely to drop a filk lyric into conversation without notice. (Or as revenge.)
The typist has dozens of hobbies, the most obvious being reading a _lot_ of science fiction and fantasy, a smattering of history, a fair amount of science, and virtually no contemporary fiction. It has a slew of hobbies: woodworking, costuming, stained glass (real and faux), cooking, liqueur making, ceramics, and computers. It also writes something vaguely resembling science fiction, and has written a filk or three.
The typist has lived with the same partner for more than thirty years, most of them tranquilly. But living with another human is not the easiest task in the world. Love is not enough. It also requires luck and work.
The typist belongs to a medievalist household calling itself "Caer Edgemere." Our motto is "We're Caer Edgemere. We can make anything." Or for that matter, do anything. Ask me about the Barbarian Motor Works sometime.