If practice makes perfect I'll attain Mother Theresa status by age 84 or so. At which point, I'll revert to total selfish childishness accompanied by complete lack of modesty and censorship. I'll smoke, drink, cuss, and pinch young tarts' asses. I'll embarrass anyone fortunate enough to be with 5 feet of me by making loud, astute observations about their hygiene and/or habitus.
Now for something mostly different: the logistics of my existence. I retired early, at 27, from an unfulfilling existence as an office drone barely making ends meet in Chicago and moved to the South Puget Sound region in the wiles of Western Washington state. I spent three winter months watching Battlestar Galactica with my future husband and then took a job as a professional cook, a job I had no prior professional experience to support. That was fun until I was swollen with my first child.
I'm a stay at home mom to a feisty toddler and a few affectionate fur balls. My husband works hours that are too long and hard for a complex of values at odds with our own. But it's a living. Our plans will come to fruition sooner than later and we'll begin to lead lives that truly resemble who we feel we are. He'll be the coolest stay at home dad on the block and I'll teach privileged youngsters in the Waldorf style of education. Maybe we continue being country bumpkins, maybe we'll unearth our metropolitan finesse again.
Our interests are as varied as our experiences. We sup on art, music, movement, comedy, truth, depth, excitement, beauty, peace, home-cookin and french fries.
In the mean time! We're going on vacation y'all and we're looking forward to seeing your place.
One of our family rules is this: If there are swings, you should swing.