What is there to say about myself?
I am a recovering addict who refuses to be defined by her disease today. I am a woman who is learning to love the "wrong" side of 40.
I live with my beautiful Mr. Sunshine and my darling little Mollie-puppy in East Texas, in "a wetland of international significance", which is really just a fancy way to say SWAMP.
I hoard coat hangers and toilet paper.
I love to shop, which might be why I hoard coat hangers. Although neither makes much sense considering we live in an RV, which means that there is room for none of that stuff. There is also no room for my shoes, of which there are many.
I prefer my coffee to be hazelnut flavored with half and half. Before I've had two cups of coffee in the morning, Sunshine says I sound like a catfish when I talk at him.
I finally obtained my college degree. It only took me five years to get my four year degree. Not bad for somebody who fried her brain cells for most of her life.
My favorite colors are purple and cobalt.
My favorite things to eat come in crinkly wrappers and live in vending machines, although at my age the old metabolism is slowing and those things are indulgences rather than staple foods these days.
Bacon is a food group. I say so.
I am probably the only person in history who had a rehab treatment plan that read "I will not use the word motherfucker in any variation in group therapy sessions". It might interest you to know that it took me two weeks to figure out how to talk under those constraints. It should also serve as a warning to you that there is no censorship here, so if the word fuck offends you, this might not be the blog for you to read.
Pants are bullshit; only because it is so hard to find pants that fit correctly, conceal my thighs, don't have a mom-jean waist, and are long enough to actually be 1/2" from the ground (with or without heels).
I love giraffes.
#thatisall
