I like color. A lot of color. Seriously, it can get obnoxious.
I’m a definite dog person, entirely controlled by my one year old Border Collie rescue – Walla Walla Kozo Mr. Chesterton the Third. When asked if she’s a cyborg come to destroy the human race, she always answers in the affirmative. Needless to say, I give her lots of treats.
When I was in preschool, I spent an entire year wearing nothing but bathing suits. This is trumped only by my She-Ra glasses and neon blue wig phase. The bathing suits I grew out of. The blue hair, not so much.
My favorite person in the world is my grandmother. She passed away two years ago but she still inspires me to be myself. She was a hoarder of the Depression-era variety, wore purple as often as possible and, let’s face it, was a bit of a bitch. But she always valued everything I did. People like that don’t come around very often.
I almost failed kindergarten because I refused to learn to color. I wanted to draw instead. The teacher complained to my mother but my mother told her to forget it. I was going to do what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. That still holds true today.
I love food, almost as much as I like sleep. Dicing, mincing, mixing, kneading. Chopping bits of my fingers off.
My father taught me to love science fiction as well as how to hammer in a nail straight. I believe those two things were instrumental in making me who I am today.
Oh, and did I mention I crochet?