About

I solve crossword puzzles in my spare time. I cheat at crosswords when I get tired or bored or just don’t know the answer.

My favorite place to be is wrapped in a quilt.

My cat is one of my best friends, but I like dogs, too.

I wish coffee didn’t stain teeth and invite dehydration, ‘cause then I’d drink a steady flow. (On weekends, I come pretty close!)

Whole milk is my favorite but I drink 2 percent because I’m afraid my metabolism will slow down someday. I’m kind of a hypochondriac.

My inner monologue is constant and, I think, rather entertaining.

I like to be told bedtime stories and to have my hand held. I sleep with a teddy bear.

I’m a mix of Monica Geller, Kathleen Kelly and Sally Allbright… or at least I like to think so, because they’re my favorite fictional characters. I love cheesy musicals and sometimes pretend the leading man is singing about me. I can be slightly narcissistic.

I like pink but prefer to surround myself with earth tones. I love orange, even though it reminds me of Auburn, Florida, Miami and Tennessee.

I wish I were more spontaneous.

I’m a daydreamer.

I love road trips and long conversations with friends. I can have an adventure without leaving town. I don’t like the phone very much, but I can get past that for people who are important to me.

I think I’m a catch.

I don’t believe it’s a meal unless it includes meat, spinach or eggplant.

I love Jesus but always fall short of my expectations.

I read two or three books a week.

I agree that daisies are the friendliest flower, but I love daffodils and tulips even more.

A man who can sing makes my knees wobble, but a man who can write makes me melt.

I love brown. Chocolate is always appropriate but flowers are better still. I love hugs. Sepia photographs are the best. I think I’m a princess but have never dated a man who agreed. My cat is a better judge of character than I am.

I’m wee.

Autumn makes me want to fall in love. Summer makes me want to flirt. I express my moods through my earrings.

I think curly hair is the best, especially on men. Plaids, long sleeve, button down collared shirts make me want to snuggle.

Just like every other woman, I feel fat at “that time of the month.” Unlike many women, I know I’m not.

I think coffee shops and board games make great first (or second, or thirty-second) dates. I enjoy being single. I want to wake up with rain falling on a tin roof while I’m safe there in your arms. I love playing in the rain.

Good songs are better with the windows down, especially when it’s cold. The beach is best at night. Honeysuckle is my favorite fragrance; it reminds me of my childhood. Fondue is overrated but I still like it.

I think paper is romantic.

I’m crazy, but I like me this way. I might be a drama queen, but it keeps life interesting. I’m a list maker.

I wish I looked good in yellow.

I keep myself awake at night thinking about what is, what has been and what will be.

I love art galleries and I miss living within walking distance of several. I love rich fabrics–I should probably learn to sew. I spend money when I’m lonely.

I’m not sure if I look good in hats, but I have several anyway. I have more winter wear than a Southerner probably should.

I love leaves; maybe that’s why autumn is my favorite. My favorite sound is the crunch of stomping in piles of fallen leaves.

I like Pottery Barn, even though it’s big and corporate and looks like everyone else’s stuff. I think the best rooms aren’t purchased at Rooms to Go. I like interior design. (Once I thought about majoring in it.)

I’m an excellent letter writer. I can talk for hours about football, coffee and my cat. I’ve been called eccentric; I took it as a compliment.

Valentine’s Day doesn’t really bother me, though I’ve never had a date on it.

I don’t know what I want, but at least I know that much.

I want to play guitar, but I’m too lazy to learn. My guitar is pretty, anyway.

Heirlooms are better than fancy new things. I have a squeaky voice in which I talk to animals and babies. I might want a dog someday. I know I want babies someday… at least one, anyway. There’s nothing easier than loving a newborn.

I’ve never been “in love.” Maybe someday. I put lots of things off to “someday.” I’m trying to stop.

Perhaps my biggest faith challenge is perfectionism. I’m very type A. I’m more forgiving of others than of myself.

I like pigtails, flannel and cowboy boots. I have romanticized ideas of the west.

I have a certain voice I use when I want someone to think I’m cute. It’s kind of annoying.

I have a huge smile (even though I’m self conscious about my teeth).

I love the smell of coffee. When I was a little girl, I dreamed of marrying a man who drank it so I could smell it every morning. I had no idea how much I would love it myself.

I read too much, get quiet in large groups and have recently learned to enjoy wearing socks.

I have a physical reaction to vulnerability: My heart starts racing and I want a friend to reassure me that it’s going to be OK. Isn’t it funny, then, that I often incorporate exposure of such insecurities into my “professional” life? I guess I’ll do (almost) anything for a dollar, or for a good story.

 I’m quirky.

My expectations are often low, but my hopes are high. I claim to be a realist, but I’m starting to grow comfortable with the idea that I might really be an optimist.

I carry my journal almost everywhere, and I usually have a book nearby. I think best with a pen in hand; it’s all a part of my ink-stained life.