About Moi

Chillax, it's olive oil

Some things:

I keep a couple of blogs that a handful of people read.  Apparently you are one of them.

I have a degree in archaeology/anthropology.  It is currently useless.

I have debateably red hair.  Debateably is not a word.

I do not naturally swing my arms when I walk.  I force it now, but I used to look like Frankenstein.

I am afraid of heights and overly large groups of people make me uncomfortable.

I would rather take a walk through a cemetery and look for owls than watch television.

I love food sometimes more than I should.  Hallelujah for skinny genes (you read that right).

I am married to the King of the Muddy Bank.  I haven't taken his name yet.  I don't know why.

When I was 17 I discovered my undying love for 80s pop music.

I have dysthemia.  But it's okay.

I am holding out for real gelatto.  Like from Italy.  Where a tan, wrinkly man will hand it to me and say "prego" when I say "grazie."

I am sometimes a Gemini, sometimes a Taurus.  Sketchy Zodiac...

If I could combine my love for writing, travel, and photography into a career, I would be a very happy person.

My husband says I should add "telling people what to do" to that list.  Silly boy.

I hate hospitals.  They don't believe you when you say you will be fine if they will just send you home.

I love the ocean, but my mortal fear is of tidal waves.  Sad day.

I am slightly allergic to bees.  Not like anaphylactic shock allergic, but like fever and itchy and swelling allergic.  Eek.

I have a cat with something in the neighborhood of 27 toes.  He is disobedient.

I love people.  They are quirky and strange.  Hence, the anthropology degree.

I believe I am allowed to use words like "natch" and spellings like "nao" because I know the rules in the first place.  But I promise never to overdo it.

I am a weakling.  I like bones (I have also been known to lick them).  I am a wimp in the cold.  I like the color green.  I have too many inside jokes to be healthy (some of them are with myself: awkward).

That's enough of that.

1 comment:

Megan said...

Oh Shenanigans how I love thee.

I'm married to a descendant of He Who Lives and/or Works at the Pig Crossing. We can be friends. Or I can be your serf, once you take the name of the King of the Muddy Bank, anyway. Do I have to pay a toll?