My parents were hippies. It was not until junior high that I realized that it was not normal to have a Christmas nativity scene where the shepherds are making a pilgrimage to see Buddha.
I was raised without a television. Although I am generally proud of this it also means I am often lacking cultural references from the 80's and early 90's. Fair warning.
I have more tattoos than my mother approves of but less than seems to be trendy.
Despite my unicorn pillow cases, I am not a unicorn and have no interest in becoming one.
I make fantastic pies. It’s all about the crust.
Life is too short to do the cross word in pencil. I live dangerously, I use pen.
I have a background in classical music.
I received my Masters Certification in London. I have not felt at home ever since.
I am an unabashed "fat" girl.
I drive a stick shift. I have been told this is a selling point.
I dislike chalkboards, squeaky athletic socks, bad poetry, glazed doughnuts, when people drop the "d" in "sandwich" and the use of "lol".
I very much like dark beer, double knit polyester (in moderation), ripping recipes out of cooking magazines, carbohydrates, the color chartreuse, polka music (no really, I want to learn to yodel so bad), The National Geographic, the smell of ripe tomatoes, This American Life (as in the Ira Glass radio program), jam and jellies of all kinds (particularly lemon curd), naps on sunny afternoons and Volvo station wagons.
I am direct and unable and unwilling to pretend to be a coquette. I am not sure how one even goes about being a coquette. I suspect it involves impractical footwear and shaving things that result in chaffing.