Recycled Words or, It's New to You

I am a chef and can make a mean mushroom ragout. That and I know how to cook the perfect medium rare steak.

I miss living in San Francisco.

Being a mother is much more complex than anyone ever lets you in on. It is profound, humbling and awe inspiring but also tedious and boring too. Try entertaining a 3 month old and then we can talk. With that said...

The sun rises and sets for me with my son. He has taught me how to be still in a way that I have never experienced before.

I gave myself my first tattoo when I was 15 in the basement of my parent's house while listening to the Smiths and eating Cheetos during the winter of my discontent.

I love cheese. The more unpronounceable and French, the better.. stinky doesn't hurt either and while I was pregnant with Joaquin I ate a whole wheel of Brie and called it dinner...don't lecture me and don't judge.

I can build a decent campfire, even when its raining, all by myself.

I know how to shoot a gun.

I have kept all my old love letters, since I was 17 and in my first relationship. Sometimes I take out the dusty box they live in and fall into the past like a warm bath.

I have kept a diary/ journal since I was 11.

I love old country music and bluegrass and own too many pairs of cowboy boots for an arab girl.

I value communication in my life above all else- pure authentic open(ness). I am not afraid of confrontation and will let you know a few things if you don't act right. But, I will also let you know a few things if you do.

I love my family, dysfunctions, joy, distance and all, more than is humanly possible to explain. They are the measure of all that is good and true and right in my life.

I love my husband and think he is a remarkable man.

I can keep a secret.

I am not afraid of dying and when I do, I want to be cremated.

I once ate 8 dozen oysters with a friend and we could have kept going but I think the waiter was scared and we realized too late, the grace that comes along with exercising something like self restraint.

I may just one day finish the book I started writing when I was 25.

I spin in music alone in my living room and sing terribly off-key. There is no shame in this. Unless of course, someone is watching.

I tried to learn to play the cello when I was 19 and living with a shy boy who stuttered and had freckles like summer's first strawberries in Ohio one summer; I failed miserably at both the cello and the boy.

I am painfully shy of speaking in public or in front of large groups which makes me want to run away screaming and beat myself unconscious with my own arm rather than face the attention.

I eat lots of toast and read books with a voracious appetite.

I take pictures of old barns and am irrationally drawn to them.

I used to have a cat named Sophia Loren because yes, she was just that gorgeous.

I lived in Rome alone, for 6 months when I was a much younger version of myself and jilted by a boy who surfed and loved his mom too much.

I once collaged the walls of my room with paper flowers because I missed the spring and the east coast winter was as dark as a shadow around me.

I love the color red.

I love moonbathing and black tea with lots of milk.

I think words and how they are used and their intention is everything.