All my life, I have wanted to be two things: a writer, and a mom.
I'm a "starving artist" kind of novelist. I love the concept stage, research, first draft, editing. I've even become somewhat competent in designing my own covers. Marketing is scary; I couldn't even sell Girl Scout cookies as a kid. Fortunately I know enough not to quit my day job!
When my mom adopted as a single parent, I committed to staying. To helping raise my little sister. She came home to us already 2 years old, and is seventeen now. L is smart, creative, and resourceful. She has a different hair color every month or so, enjoys her part-time job, and is planning to get her own place next year. Co-parenting her has stretched my heart and mind in ways both expected and surprising, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.
I love the woods, the lake, the mountains, the prairies. One day I'd like to see an ocean, and a desert.
My best friend's kids are getting old enough to logroll down hills. I joke that my childhood is coming back to haunt them ... but other than the 90's movies, it was good. As a kid I learned about flowers, birds, trees, how to read the wind and smell the rain. These pieces of childhood still bring me peace and joy. I'm grateful for the chance to share those things with the ones I love, and excited to share them with my child(ren), too.
My house is a hundred-year-old Victorian. I fell in love with the sun spilling in over the staircase through a stained-glass window, and a slightly-creaking floorboard in the upstairs hallway. It reminds me of the old house where I grew up, and the pretty old churches we'd see when we went to visit relatives.
My mom, younger sister, brother, a few friends and I did some light remodeling when we bought the place: new flooring, some trim, washer and dryer hookups on the main level rather than in the basement. Now we're working on the yard: I'm piecing together a big flower garden out front, and Mom is planting a big vegetable garden in the back.
We and one set of next-door neighbors are planting a small, shared fruit grove in our back yards: one tree at a time on either side of the fence. Right now we each have a cherry tree; eventually we'll also have peach, apple, pear, plum and mulberry. My cat, Eli, is slightly freaked out by their six chickens. Eli quietly intimidates their dog, Penny, who had never seen a cat until we moved in.
The family on the other side has kids and pets; their dad built a doggie door in the fence between our yards, so Max can come over here and Mom's dog, Rosie, can go over there. The dad built railings on our new front porch, so Grandpa would have something sturdy to hold onto when he came over.
We live two blocks from an elementary school, and the neighborhood is full of kids, some of whom I had in the church nursery back in the day. It's really fun to watch them grow up.
I love this neighborhood. People sit on their front porches and talk to their neighbors, kids are always at the playground, and even in January I could smell burgers grilling somewhere when I walked Rosie. There's a Little Free Library down the block, and a Little Free Food Pantry across from it.
I love people: especially the very young and very old, though most of us in the middle are okay, too. I enjoy brightening people's days, and assume they're happy to brighten mine.
I was a middle child with a meek personality, so I'm a well-practiced peacekeeper. I'm kind, patient with people and animals. When I meet someone new I assume the best, and am usually not disappointed.
I'm more immovable object than unstoppable force: reliable and loyal, empathic, but not all that exciting.
I'm always learning new things: American Sign Language, Spanish, the bookkeeping at work. I like cooking and hate cleaning; like the scent of coffee but not the taste; like all furry creatures except the furry brown spider that hid in the furry brown carpet at the rental in Oklahoma.