Not going to start a sentence with I am. Out of sheer stubbornness.
I love old Bob Dylan and old scratchy Billie Holiday.
I don't believe in a God. On Sundays when my grandma would yell up to the cousins to get ready for church, we'd grab our bathing suits and head to Barton Springs. She gave us each a quarter the first time we swam the width of the pool all by ourselves (from the lifeguard stand to the diving board). My church now is a big sitting rock (with room enough for me and my dog) in the middle of the Llano river.
I have never eaten a hot dog. Not intentionally…just has never happened.
I don’t own any tubes, sticks, jars, lotions or sprays that claim to make me age-defiant or give me fuller lips.
I wanted to be a tornado tracker when I was a little girl.
The Sunday New York Times crossword frustrates me (I know a guy who knows a guy who can finish it in pen with no scratch-outs), though I feel grateful to it for my intimate knowledge of the word ort. Fits in every crossword crevice.
“Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me” on KUT cracks me up.
I build a fire in my fireplace as soon as it starts getting cold...build at 60 degrees...light below 50.
I spell well.
The Flip Happy crepe truck makes me happy.
I love my dog.
My cousin married a fisherman in the Cinque Terre region of Italy, and now she lives in a little village right on the coast with a bottom floor for visitors. Nice.
I dislike emoticons.
I have a scar on my right knee.
Just looking to have an ordinary cup of coffee with an ordinary boy.