I am the worst singer, probably ever, even though I’ll belt one out in the car like I’m a rock star. Music stirs something inside of me…I can’t quite explain it.

I LOVE looking at antiques…and sometimes purchasing them. I think I might have a certifiable closet obsession with antiques.

I have a super soft spot for baby animals of all kinds…well, no. Let me clarify, furry baby animals.  I’m pretty sure I have a textbook phobia of snakes.

I never used to miss the beach, but now that we live about as far away from a beach as you can possibly get, that’s all I want. The sand between my toes…the sound of the waves crashing…searching for seashells.

Sitting on a porch in a rocking chair that overlooks the mountains or a lake on a cool morning is like therapy to my soul.

I wish I had a nuclear family sometimes…or an actual relationship with my dad…even though I made the decision to pull the plug on that after getting burned one too many times.

I really want to be skilled at gardening, but I’ve already succeeded in overwatering my grapes.

I don’t do well with death.  I don’t know how to act and all my emotions shrivel up and get locked away so I can be strong for everyone else.

I want to be a better cook.  I’m trying to be…maybe I’m getting there…

As much as I complain about running, internally, I really do love how I feel afterwards.  The same goes for working out – especially really tough workouts (like interval training – ouch) at the gym that remind me of the times during basketball practice where all I wanted to do was stop and, obviously, I couldn’t do that or my coach would have made it ten times worse, so I had to keep going, pushing to finish.

Two of my most favorite meals on the whole entire planet: fresh mozzarella, basil and tomatoes with balsamic vinegar and olive oil OR a smathering of cheeses, grapes, dates, good bread and wine.

I don’t trust people very much…it takes a lot to gain my trust and not very much to lose it.  I blame this mostly on getting burned repeatedly by people I trusted…and they ripped that comfort right from me…

I can type pretty quickly…but I don’t type the “correct” way.  I type my own, whatever finger gets there first, way.  Not hen pecking…slightly more advanced than that…

I talk to our fur-children like they’re human.  I think this has helped them learn English.

I have no idea why I share so much of myself, sometimes.  I certainly don’t open up like this in person. Maybe I should take lessons from my blogging-self.

Part of me still believes I can be whoever I want to be.  Except maybe a ballerina. Or a gymnast. Anything, really, that requires me to be extra bendy.