I like to think we’re sitting in a coffee shop somewhere in front of a roaring fire having a glass of wine together. Such places exist, you know: coffee-and-wine cafes. Unfortunately, the concept jumped in its Prius in Seattle and drove straight on through to Boston, flooring it as it neared the black hole of the suburban Midwest.
Not that I’m bitter about having been entombed in suburbia for the last umpteen years.
Anyway, I’m imagining we’re just sort of hanging out, except given that we’re on my blog, I’m doing all the talking—which I’ll regret later on and wonder for days if you’re describing me to your friends as a narcissist. Still, you’ve clicked on “About,” so I’m assuming you’re trying to figure out who your run-on-sentence-loving, semi-neurotic, red-wine-drinking companion is. So here goes:
I’m a trying-to-figure-it-out Jesus-follower. I grew up in the church, I worked for the church for a decade, and I’m kinda mad at the church. It’s a fun time.
I’m a wife and momma. Somehow, I’ve reached middle-age, and I’m staring down the Empty Nest. My husband is a prince. My girls are brilliant.
I’m an aspiring minimalist. I’m tired of being consumed by consumption, and I’m ready to be liberated from my stuff.
I’m a pseudo-socialist. But only in the sense that I think we can do a better job of taking care of one another and not expecting our government to do all that heavy lifting. As Mother Teresa suggested, we belong to one another. Most of the time, we just don’t much act like it.
I’m a bit on the neurotic side. I can make anything my fault, I second-guess all the things, and if a family member is five minutes late, I’m certain they’re in a ditch somewhere.
My heart breaks for the poor and marginalized. In particular, I worry about food insecurity and homelessness, racial inequality, and the maltreatment of persons who are lesbian, gay, or transgender.
I am not a runner. I know it’s super-chic to be 40-something and run marathons. I have bad knees. Plus? Running is dumb.
Wanna talk more? Shoot me an email: email@example.com.