I've just moved to Portland after five years living and teaching in San Diego. I'm excited about the prospects of seasons and snow, both of which are painfully absent from Southern California. But really I'm excited about the people, who seem to be more cultured and interesting the further north I travel.

I like libraries, grocery markets, and time well spent in the kitchen. I keep active, run, and laugh often. I work too hard, but balance is something I strive for. I don't like bumper stickers that say "God Bless America." I enjoy holding hands, think tickling should be a sport, and don't think anyone should have to sleep alone. I think smiling is underrated, that grass stains never go out of style, and that traveling is like breathing.

You should know that I'm a bit of a dork. Mmm... More than a bit. And goofy. Especially when I'm happy. You should also know that I'm terrible at texting. No seriously, terrible, as in 'this could be a problem.'

I'm a sucker for charming people. Recently I joined a weekend social doubles tennis league. Most of the players are well my seniors, and I was first partnered up with a fiery old guy named Joe. His first words to me:

[fiery joe] "Do you want to serve?"

[me] "Doesn't matter to me, what's your preference?"

[fiery joe] "Answer like a man."

[me] "Hell yes I do."

We didn't win this time, but we came close. Next week we'll make good on his promise that 'with his good looks, and my ability to appreciate his good looks, we'll be unstoppable.' I have of course adopted Joe as my new grandpa. Which is just to say that 'playful' goes a long way with me, so jab away. But you better be able to take it, too! Here's a hint: if I call you a dork don't get offended. I'm flirting. I probably like you, and there's a good chance I'll want to tear your clothes off in the near future.

I think it's important to care what people think - just not too much. More important is the courage to disagree, and be passionate about something and open simultaneously.

I spend too much time in my head. I talk too much. Two habits I pretend to be trying to break. I love tall brunettes (and always end up with blondes), women who occasionally aren't sure just what to say, and people who wear glasses. I'm competitive, but in a fun way. I don't actually care if I win, I'll just act like it to keep things interesting.

I think well-traveled people are like prophets. And I might not kiss you on the first date, but I'm definitely not a prude. Sleeping in the nude is a central tenant of my religion. So is love. So is making love.

Finally, you should know that I'm a defective male. I'm missing the venerable 'Sportscenter' gene. So no, I won't go out of my way to watch football, baseball or, god forbid, Nascar (I will find other reasons to want to ignore you). But I will occasionally settle in to watch with friends under threat of missing out on massive amounts of free alcohol. That gene is, thankfully, in tact.

UPDATE: After a running workout recently my students pointed out to me that I sweat in a heart-shaped pattern on my chest (see picture). And to answer your next question: Yes, angels do sing me to sleep at night.

Don't write if you take yourself too seriously. It simply won't work.