I actually hate talking about myself or in this case, writing about myself…
…(weird, right, for a blogger to say that?), so this assignment is a bit excruciating. But our test group of intro readers said we need an introduction to the whack jobs at the helm of this literary circus. I said “Fine”.
Get ready to be underwhelmed.
I grew up in a typical suburban neighborhood in a large-ish Canadian city. I had two loving parents who taught me to be strong, funny, vulnerable when need be and responsible most of the time. I have a younger brother who apparently is related to me but even a scientist would question that fact.
I was an OK student, an OK athlete, and a horribly bossy friend. I didn’t begin shaking this delightful characteristic till likely my mid-teens though the she-boss rears her head quite frequently and I have to remind her I rescinded her invitation.
I dropped out of university because it gave me ulcers, I found my people in college, which includes most of my closest friends and my man-friend. My man-friend and I moved to a larger Canadian city for work, lived there for almost a decade, before life nudged us back to my home town. We have three weasels (the child variety…not child weasel…my children are weasels…not actual weasels…actual little people), currently a Milhouse (cat) and once again live in a typical suburban neighborhood which votes way too conservatively for my blood and I am secretly trying to infiltrate those beliefs.
I over volunteer, I over commit, I love all of my people dearly, and I don’t understand the meaning of slowing down. I still am an ok athlete, sometimes bossy Mom, friend and partner and always feel like I am a student of what it means to be human. I am a contractor, a part-time employee, and a yoga nerd.
I like the smell of coffee but not the taste. I like to hide in my veggie garden (even though the walls are see through chicken wire) and like to read silly stories to my kids. Counter to an upcoming post, I do like pants. And skirts. And dresses. I tell everyone my look is hobo chic.
This blog is an outlet for my creativity and endless curiosity. It also is a solid reason to see Quitter once a week and drink tea. We hope it one day will pay for us to own a teacup piglet that we will co-parent. We would also settle on our writing affording us the ability to co-parent a washcloth.