The Old Me – A picture I was trying to paint

When I began the new version of my blog (that’d be this one) I wrote an about me section.  I re-wrote that section today, but want to save the old one.  Click here to read it. From Autumn 2012 (probably).

On any given weekday I have half a dozen story ideas and wind up doing laundry or sweeping again instead.  I like a tidy house.  I fear my son will be kidnapped by goblins if I don’t keep my eyes on him enough.  My fear of these baby-snatching goblins is inspired, in part, by one of my, many, favorite children’s authors, Mr. Sendak.  I am also shaped and inspired by Misters Dahl, Silverstein and Suess as well as the inimitable Ms. L’Engle.  I quote ideas from Clarissa Pinkola Estes’s Women Who Run with the Wolves frequently as she is one of my heroes.  I am obsessive over neatly tied packages, complete puzzles and unseen motivations.

The above is a general glimpse into the workings of my non-linear yet rational mind.  How about something a little less synchronistic and a little more tied to a shared idea of chronology?  I was born at the start of the wide generation dubbed as “The Millenials.”  We are tied to the Age of Aquarius, as we were born just as the climax-line began climbing in the foothills of time.  I believe we will help lay a foundation of creation in a time when destruction has been the most profitable behavior for hundreds (of thousands) of years.

I lived in Chicago until I was four.  We moved to the suburbs to gain a yard, a good school system and the first of several mortgages.  I am an only child which means my parents were everything to me as I was growing up.  My mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis when I was seven.  She was 29.  She remains as one of the toughest broads, most fun girls and most formidable opponents I have ever encountered.  I credit her influence to my more more bossy, clever and rebellious traits.  My dad is un-endingly fair.  He is patient and he is ever curious about the world.  I never believed my mom, when she told me she knew she loved my dad at first sight, until I felt the same thing years and years later.  There is no love lost, but my mom will never forgive me for moving so far away then getting pregnant with her first grand-baby.  They are enthusiasts and riders of a specific popular brand of motorcycle, listeners of loud rock and roll and they took me to get my first tattoo as a high school graduation present.

I am a college graduate.  I went to school in the most stunning place I had yet seen.  In those four years I climbed all over the Upper Peninsula’s rocky crags and ran all over is sandy shores and breathed as much of its crisp, calm air my lungs could handle.  Have you ever seen Marquette, MI?  It is really an amazing place; the kind that imprints its inhabitants with some kind of indelible nostalgia.

While in college Garrison Keillor became one of those public figures I wanted to invite to dinner.  He knows a thing or two about English majors.  Yes, I am one of those silly special people who spend ridiculous thousands of dollars to talk about dead authors and books and themes.  I minored in “art” for goodnessakes.  I studied Spanish, photography, poetry – basically anything that would guarantee me not making mega-bucks with ease after graduating.

After floundering and pickling in post-college bitterness and confusion for 6 months I moved to Chicago city proper again to try my hand at big city life.  I figured I’d go there, get work, make friends, be young and gorgeous and prove that I could do it anywhere then move on.  So I did that.  I loved much about city life but…

Chicago has the place of “home” for me some how but it wasn’t a place I wanted to settle.  I still pined for the old beauty of those rocks and shores and trees.  Making ends meet was difficult.   I wasn’t taking enough vacations.  Those years were typical of what one now does in their early 20s: experimentation and blogging about it.  I tried my hand at lesbianism, veganism, bicyclism and consumerism.  I settled on: curious, adventurous and excitable, bi-sexual, design oriented and still needing of more open space than Chicago life easily afforded.  I began focusing more on my health; spending money to care for body and mind (instead of booze and sex).  I tried several kinds of chiropractors, healing touch, reflexology and was exposed for the first time to psychic abilities, Akashic records and other mental acuities of which we are capable.  I practiced yoga at lunch time daily in an empty space in my office building.  I began noticing that my body would sometimes buzz, almost audibly, after many long hours hitting the pavement and surrounded by other peoples’ motivations and stories.  I began noticing how I would take responsibility for others feelings.  Soon, my tiny studio, though it was a haven, didn’t seem far enough away from every one else.

I dreamed one day, at the beginning of the spring of 2009, about a man – my dream man, dream partner.  He was tattooed, good with his hands practically as well as artistically.  At the end of the dream I asked myself, didn’t I know that man, maybe?  Might his name be Hadj?  I giggled to myself about the plot twist I’d so quickly and strangely plunked upon.

Hadj is a retired submariner as of 2009 (Petty Officer 1st Class, Sonar – if that means anything to you)  who has always lived in the West.  He is an imaginative and provocative artist; can sculpt, paint, carve, build and sew.  He adds fire to my air.  His eyes sparkle with a great many thoughts and experiences.  His smile lines are as deep as his worry lines.  We befriended one another on the internet in 2007.  We met in person in the late spring of 2009 and a dramatic love affair began.  We can be intense.  We are both good at many things.  We married on 11/11/11.

I’m a stay at home mama to our son, Salamander.  Hadj again works in the war industry, much to his chagrin.  We dream big and do our best.  We will give our children big names.  We hope that in 3-5 years I can go back to work (I want to teach) and Hadj can be the magnificent stay at home parent/spouse.  We live in a tiny wooded hamlet at the estuary end of the Hood Canal (though, it’s really a fjord).  I have half a dozen story beginnings in mind, most of the time, but I’m often found chasing dust bunnies, toddling legs and goblins.


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