I'm not married. I've been married, but I'm not married anymore.
I live with my boyfriend. He's been putting up with my particular version of crazy for nearly 4 years. We probably won't get married, but we'll live happily ever after anyhow.
I don't have any children. As far as I know, I've never been pregnant. I'd really like to know what it's like to be pregnant. I'm not sure I want the responsibility of raising a whole other person, though, so we'll leave this as it is for now.
I have a job. It is alternately the best job in the whole wide world and a soul-sucking whore. Which definition fits is dependent upon which day you ask the question.
I've never been a member of any organized religion. When I was growing up, it was a special treat if a friend or family member would let me tag along and go to church with them on Sundays. Yet I was raised by two parents who have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. My Granny read us Bible stories and taught us how to say our prayers. My entire religious upbringing consisted of "Know to whom you are thankful for your blessings" and "you don't have to go to church to get to Heaven". Now my religious views are something like: Don't be an asshole, and you'll probably be okay.
I love Mormons. I would join their church, except for the whole tithing thing, and all the service requirements, and the religious beliefs.
I like to smoke. I like to drink. I like to cuss. I'm trying to not do all of these, or to at least do them not as much.
I am tactless. I'm an open book. I am obnoxious. I am self-obsessed. I'm moody. I'm lazy. I'm a perfectionist, when I do try.
I love plants. I don't exactly have a green thumb, but there are definitely shades of blue and yellow mixed in there somewhere. I've got a house and front porch full of things I've managed to not kill. I've never tried to garden, but I'm going to one of these days.
I want to have a year's supply of food stored in my basement.
I want to be a runner. Most days, I can't find enough motivation to take the dog for a walk.
I love to cook, but sometimes I forget. The work and effort required to get the kitchen clean, do the cooking, then clean the kitchen all over again...it makes me forget and carryout sounds easier.
My parents are fantastic, good, warm people. They adore me and love me and are on my side even when the rest of the world is against me. My Daddy told me once, "No one will ever love you the way your mother and I love you. No one will ever want good things for you the way we do. You can trust us always, because we will always want only the best for you." They've never let me down.
My brother is...not someone I want to talk about. I love him. I want good things for him. I want to bitchslap him.
I've only got the one blood sibling, but my cousin Stacy is like a sister who didn't live with us when I was growing up. Maybe she went to boarding school? A close one, though, because we still saw each other all the time. She was my partner in crime, my worst enemy, my true bff, the person I played "doctor" with (our own version, more "E.R."-esque, that didn't involve any touching or taking off clothes), the person I got into trouble with, the person who explored The Property with me, the one who I told all my secrets to and who loved me anyhow, the one who "got" me, always. (And later confessed that she looked up to me and wanted to be like me, and I'll always love her forever for thinking I'm cool.)
I'm a voracious reader. I prefer books, paperback ones, but a hardback will do, and if a computer's all that's available, bring it on, too. I don't want a Kindle and I don't want an IPad, but I will if I must. I love to go to the Book & Music Exchange and sort through the mishmash of titles on display - and I can't walk away from the shelves until my arms are full or my basket is heavy. I come home and line up my new-to-me selections on the second shelf from the top, on the bookcase closest to the front door in the front sitting room. Then I spend the next few days/weeks/months making my way through that shelf, saving this silly romance for later, after the serious Oprah's Book Club selection, and then after that we'll have Amy Tan because hers are always good.
I love elephants. My Granny loved elephants. Maybe I get it from her. Maybe they're just really awesome creatures. This video makes me teary-eyed, and made me decide I'm going to Thailand on my next real vacation. And I'm going to buy this:
and two or three like it and I'm going to hang them all over my house.
I'm a sentimental sap. I hold on to ticket stubs and show programs and little origami figures he makes out of the foil ripped from the inside of a fresh pack of cigarettes. I have a treasure trove of shit/garbage/junk stowed in various boxes and drawers and bowls and vases all over the house. In our last home, I even displayed it, using push pins, on the wall in the kitchen. When we moved, I packed it all into a box. That box is in the upstairs closet. Yes, you probably will see me on an episode of Hoarders one day.
I don't watch television. (I'll give you a minute, I know it's a shock.) But no, I don't watch TV.
That's kind of a lie. I watched 6 episodes of Weeds last night. We have a Blockbuster subscription and they mail movies to our house. It doesn't count as TV watchin'. And Friday? When we were over at Rick's? I totally watched a half hour of DC Cupcakes (which I'd never seen, and adored) and (you'll never believe it) Say Yes To The Dress! (Can you believe it? Jimi and Rick both put on their big boy panties and let me watch the pretty dress show!) But before that, I probably didn't turn a TV on for 2 weeks. That's why I say I don't watch TV. I don't have "my shows". I don't care. It's all a bunch of shit, and most of it is gross or depressing or nasty. (But some of it is great, like the cupcake show and the pretty dress show and the one where those people have all those kids, that one's good too.)
I'm a bad story teller. I go off on tangents and forget the point and then can't find my way back to it and so I just get to the point and everyone's standing there looking at me like "Did you really just take ten minutes and a detour to talk about gun control legislation to tell us that cherries are on sale at Kroger?"
Now that you know all this...aren't you glad you started reading my blog? I'll bet you can't wait to hear what kind of crazy shit I talk about next.