I am a married, 45-year-old mom of three kids. Those kids just insist on getting older and bigger--who gave them permission to do that?
Some days I still wonder how that happened. Wasn't I just 17?
I love the idea of cooking gourmet dinners every night. It doesn't always happen. Okay, maybe it happens once a week. And that might be stretching it as far as the gourmet part goes.
Although I wouldn't call myself a cookbook collector, I have a shelf full of cookbooks that would support such a claim.
I learned to knit in 2008, and I think I've had a project on the needles ever since. Right now there are at least two projects languishing on the needles because we brought home a puppy in 2012. One day I'll get back to it--but I'm not holding my breath.
I am always reading at least one book. I love mysteries. And anything set in England. Before, during, and/or after WWI and/or WWII.
I've also started re-reading novels that I read (or probably should have read) in college.
I use the word "dude" too much. Also, "bro." I'm pretty sure that one day soon, my use of these words will embarrass my children.
I love getting mail--letters, not bills. So I occasionally write letters, because you have to send in order to receive.
I love writing lists. I have many little notebooks for the lists. I have passed down this love of notebooks to my kids.
I love going to the beach, but I am terrified of rip currents and melanoma.