After my last post, someone had commented on my Facebook page saying how much they were looking forward to reading more episodes of the Reinhard Chronicles. And since I loved that title so much, I think I’ll turn that into a thing. Being a wife is such a huge part of my life now, why not share the stuff I’m learning? And thus, let The Reinhard Chronicles begin. Continue reading “The Reinhard Chronicles”
There’s something burning in me. Something burning wanting to burst forth and incinerate the whole world. I’ve been trying to put my finger on it for so long and I still don’t quite understand it. I don’t really like fire. Mostly because of the damage it does when it touches the skin. I’ve seen what it can do and how such a small flame can destroy so severely. And yet….
The metaphor of fire is burning in my brain and I want to use it. Our lives come in snapshots and moments and sequences of events that weave together to form the days that turn into years. Maybe it’s because I’m getting married in 25 days and I want that new chapter of my life to begin. Maybe it’s because I hate routine. I like it at first because it gives me structure to who I am and what I’m supposed to do, but then somewhere along the way I only end up feeling trapped by it. It’s the excitement of shopping for school supplies but dreaming for Christmas break only a month later.
I’m supposed to be doing something with my life but I don’t think I know what it is anymore. I’ve had dreams and plans and actions I want to take, and like waves plowing into the sand, new ideas sweep the old ones away. What if I am never satisfied with where I am, constantly shifting like the flickering of flames? What if I will never be satisfied with the me that’s under my skin. That scares me most of all. I never want to look back and hate my life or the decisions I made. Life it too short to live that way. I want adventure but I’m terrified to take it. I want normalacy, but am too afraid I’ll be trapped by it.
That fire in me leaves me tapping my foot impatiently for something, ANYTHING, to happen. If a bear walked by my window, I’d go outside and hug it. I feel like a hot-headed Disney princess singing about wanting more than this “provincial life”.
What am I doing? What do I want out of the world? Why do I hate walls and ceilings so much?
Being mediocre at most things leaves no lasting impression on the world. The things that make me stand out like a sore thumb only make me angrier. Having pink hair and a nose ring doesn’t change the world. Wanting to write, yet never writing, can achieve nothing in retrospect to the giant globe we’ve been thrust into. Going to school to be a designer means nothing if your talent is next to nothing. Coloring doesn’t make you an artist, and answering the phone with a smile in your voice doesn’t make you a good person. Copy and paste has no meaning in a world where your own ingenuity can make or break your career.
The ticking of a clock can be so slow, and the pounding in my head can be so fast- there isn’t a good medium for the two. My fingers don’t type fast enough and my brain can’t form coherent sentences fast enough.
The thoughts jumble together and i don’t know what they even mean anymore. what if they stop making sense to you and me and the world and everything crumbles into…..
I have to stop. Go back and fix my capitalization and spell check the mess I’ve just written. Because one misspelled word can be the difference between “a beautiful stream of consciousnesses from a brilliantly jumbled mind” or “the rant of a whiny lower-than-normal woman”. I should go back and read what I’ve written before sending it to the void. I debate it even as I write this sentence. If I do, I might just erase it all…
Am I even allowed to want something more?
Everyone everywhere wants more. Does that make it selfish? or human? To yearn is human; to lust is hypocrisy. I thought in writing this, I would be able to work through my own thoughts. In the end, I’m only more frustrated with my own inability to make sense of the jumble in my mind.
I had dreams of different things at different times in my life. Each one has been pushed away be the understanding of how the world works. Reality is a painful mistress. I’m not talented enough to grace the stage. Not driven or disciplined enough to be a writer. Not smart enough to be a veterinarian. Not artistically inclined enough to be an artist. Not adventurous enough to be a world traveler. I used to feel like I had purpose. A goal I was striving towards. Now I feel like a ship with no course, a car with no tires, a flame with no fuel. My dreams are fading away. And I don’t know what to do about it.
If you are unfamiliar with it, the Myers–Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) is an “introspective self-report questionnaire designed to indicate psychological preferences in how people perceive the world and make decisions.” You might have taken the test for a class or even a job (I’ve taken it for a camp I worked at and for two separate college classes). The test consists of four personality traits to compose your own individualistic introspective understanding of why you do the things you do. There are four possible pairs of personality traits: Introversion (I) or Extroversion (E), Intuition (N) or Sensing (S), Thinking (T) or Feeling (F), and Judging (J) or Perceiving (P).
If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m an ENFP. An Extroverted iNtuition Feeling Perceiver. To help you understand this even a little bit more, here are a couple pics to explain:
Not going to lie, I’m extremely proud to be an ENFP. I don’t have ducks in rows, but I have squirrels at a rave. I promise not to forget and then I forget. I forget what I was talking about in mid sentence. I get magical crazy beautiful ideas that never go anywhere. ENFP’s are the perfect ambivert: I absolutely love people!!! until I hate them all. I want to make beds out of marshmallows and duct tape myself to the wall for fun. I hate making snap decisions or being told what to do. I talk to myself out loud when my brain is too full to think. If you command me to do something that I was already planning on doing, the chances of me doing that thing automatically drops to zero. There is no limit to what I can accomplish when I’m supposed to be doing something else (AKA my entire college career). I pack two hours before a trip, and unpack three months after getting back. I aggressively care about you but don’t want to be clingy about it. I alternate between procrastination and perfectionism. I’m indecisive because I see eight sides to everything. I contradict myself a lot.
I could go on. There are some FANTASTIC little memes and gifs and lists for every type of personality.
“But Hannah!” You ask. “What is Cheshire’s personality? He doesn’t really seem like much of an ENFP (from reading his blog). How does that work out?”
Whelp, let me tell you.
My dear lovely Chesh is an INTJ (Introvert Intuition Sensing Judger), which if you hadn’t noticed, is almost the EXACT opposite as myself. They do say that opposites attract. This article is actually great at summarizing how our similarities and differences work and don’t work. Because we know how important it is to anticipate probelms we might have before we ever get to them, Chesh and I talked about this extensively in our meeting with our pre-marital counselor. Dr. David Olshine, who loves looking at people’s personality traits and how they relate to each other.
As I read through the article mentioned above, I found myself nodding a lot. Take one look at the differences between my blog and Cheshire’s and it’s pretty obvious. My ENFP personality is very bouncy and feels a lot of feelings out loud. I’m a dreamer who keeps my head in the clouds most days. The articles I write about I try and keep upbeat and funny, and when I do write about serious things, the post focus more on the emotional side rather than the cognitive. Cheshire’s INTJ personality os a bit more grounded. While he is still a dreamer, he can be much more focused on the actions to be taken to get the dream done. He processes internally and therefore his articles tend to be very introspective and get you thinking. (See the difference between the Feeler and the Thinker?)
Below is an excerpt from the article talking about why ENFPs fall for INTJs (and vice versa).
ENFPs and INTJs may only share one letter preference in common (N for intuition) however, they share two common cognitive functions; Introverted Feeling and Extraverted Thinking (see above). This means that both ENFPs and INTJs not only perceive the world through intuition, they also have a common feeling and thinking function, although in a separate order. Where the ENFP will have a higher knowledge and awareness of his/her own emotions and values, the INTJ will have a higher awareness of the logical approach and efficient task completion. If you look at the cognitive function image, you can see that INTJs use Fi in the tertiary position, only one step down from the ENFPs position. The same goes for Extraverted Thinking, the ENFP has Te in the tertiary position, only one step down from the INTJs Te.
Ok so I know that sounded kind of complicated, but when I can better understand myself and how I work, while at the same time seeking to better understand Cheshire and how he works, we are recognizing pieces of us that make the relationship stronger, as well as the pieces that make us clash.
If you haven’t taken the Myers-Briggs, I highly recommend you do. Understanding yourself and how you work can be extremely beneficial into understanding certain tenancies and traits that make you, you! Knowing your strengths and weaknesses can help you with jobs, every day life, how you interact with friends and family, and how you play a role in society. You have certain gifts and talents that might have a bigger impact than you know. You also have weaknesses that could cause you trouble (and even pain).
In my opinion, the 16 Personalities website is one of the best Myers-Briggs tests out there, that not only gives you the option for detailed answers, but also is great at explaining the strengths and weakness you may have. It’s also totally FREE so you aren’t having to fork over cash or create an account just to better understand yourself. It’s also a great tool to better understand your significant other, or even friends and family. Sometimes recognizing the ‘why’ can help mend relationships, or harness each other’s strengths to create a better community.
Boom! There it is. I hope it helped. And let me know what YOU are! I love seeing how beautifully different we are and how together we make the world go ’round.
As we grow, I think there must be something in our brains that works as an evolutionary constrictor, so that we never repeat certain parts in our lives. In a way, our brains are saving us from that embarrassment. Because sometimes fashion choices really don’t need to be repeated.
I shall provide for you a for-instance. In high school I used to do this thing where I dressed up weird on Wednesdays. Maybe it was a weird homeschooler thing, but I called it Wacky Wednesdays and wore toe socks with flip flops and that sort of thing. I’m talking blue eyeshadow, pigtails, suspenders, leggings. Every. Wednesday. It’s really no wonder I didn’t have many friends. To save us all, I won’t post that one. But I will post a couple that take me back down memory lane….
This was me freshman year of high school. This was the day after meeting my best friend, Jenna. The first day I met her, I was getting picked up from the bus station for a MK co-op event and was meeting all these new people for the first time. It was news to me that there was another girl my age who lived near by, so my brain spazzed and I tried to shake her hand. Like an idiot. She also thought I was an idiot (not ‘sophisticated’, which is what I had been going for). A day later we were inseparable.
This was my first real show. I played Rona O’Toole who was a postal worker, tangled up as a suspect in a murder. It was an interactive show that involved the audience and broke the fourth wall. At the end of the show, the audience would vote (by clapping) as to who they thought the murderer was. The louder the applause, the guiltier the suspect. Opening night, I was deemed the murderer, and it was my proudest moment on the stage. I loved playing Rona because she had a huge temper and got really mad at people all the time. Her best line was “I’M NOT YELLING!” as she shouted it across the stage.
Then of course there’s always THIS little gem. As you can see, the rainbow hair started young. I showed up at the bus station after being gone all weekend and looked like this. My dad wasn’t impressed. I remember the drive home, and my mom commenting on my snarky attitude. I believe the phrase “That dye’s leaked into your brain, young lady,” was used more than once.
And my baby faced self on day one of seventh grade in public school. Mom and dad had walked me to the bus stop and I was terrified. It was the year of way too many horrifying moments that crippled me for life. It was also a year of firsts. First detention, first crush, first breaking down and crying in the hallway between classes. Oh yeah, it was a fun year.
Ok so if I’ve learned anything from being me, here’s the thing. The embarrassing moments, the hysterical stories, the crazy hair, all of it, is part of a great story. My story. Sometimes I get so caught up in where I am right now that I forget the past moments that have brought me here. I’ve learned from all those times, and the people and experiences have brought me to where I am. And I wouldn’t change that for the world. Sometimes even the bad stuff leads to good.
A lot of people view piercings or tattoos as a rebellious act. Especially if you have parents like mine. I would like to think of myself as a rebellious person, so it should be no surprise that I have a tattoo, a nose ring, and have dyed my hair multiple times. Talk about living dangerously. I even impress myself.
In college I pierced my nose. It was one of those things that I don’t actually remember having a reason for, other than I thought nose rings looked cool. I did it right before Christmas break and surprised my parents at the airport with bangs and a stud in my nose. My dad still makes bull jokes.
Last spring break I got a tattoo. It was something I’d wanted to do for a long time, and though my mother had vocalized her opinions on the matter, I decided (as a grown up) that it was something I wanted to do. The tattoo is of coordinates (N 43° 53′ 27″ E 18° 23′ 22″), right on the inner side of my right arm. If you look up the coordinates, it’ll send you to a building. My building. If you’re familiar with some of my other posts, you might recognize it as a bombed out building in my old neighborhood in Sarajevo, Bosnia. It might seem like an odd place to pick for coordinates, but that old building was huge in my development as a writer and as a person. It’s also a constant reminder of where I came from, and to never forget that brokenness can be a path towards redemption. In the same way my loneliness as a kid pushed me toward becoming who I am, the brokenness of the people of Bosnia (both economically and spiritually) is a path towards the hope of redemption. As the country and the people grow and as they continue to seek truth and hope. Ok, back to the lighter stuff…
The rebellion continued on to last May. After I graduated, I bleached my hair and then dyed it purple. Yep.
It was one of those things I had always wanted to do, and now that I had graduated, I was looking forward to trying something new. Needless to say, I LOVED it, and kept it purple all summer long. Complete with a green scale and purple top swimsuit, I lifeguarded a lot and got called “Chief Mermaid” which was a dream come true! I was bummed when summer ended and I had to have a real job. Apparently jobs in the real world don’t look kindly upon mermaids working desk jobs.
BUT!!! There is redemption! I plan on piercing, tattooing, and dying all over again after my wedding next month! First, I plan on getting the new tattoo. This is something I’ve wanted ever since I got my first ink. If you’ve gotten a tattoo before, you know: Getting ink under your skin is ADDICTING! This is the new plan:
You might be familiar with the phrase, “Veni, Vidi, Vici” which means “I came, I saw, I conquered”. This one says “Veni, Vidi, Scripsi” which means “I came, I saw, I wrote”. I feel like it sums me up well. I want to write about my experiences in the world and leave an impact. I just love it ❤ Placement will be on the inner part of my left forearm and will be aprox 5 1/2 inches long.
I also plan on getting a daith piercing, which is piercing the cartilage fold on the inside of your ear. The piercing actually acts as a sort of acupuncture, and helps relieve migraines. This is something I’m very excited about since I get migraines pretty often and hate having to deal with them. I’ve heard great things, and think it’ll be a great addition to my bling.
And lastly but not leastly, I shall be bleaching my hair once again and going….. PINK. Somewhat of a mix of dusty rose, salmon, It’ll be a good summer. I’ll also be working at camp Sandy Cove again this summer as photographer, and I honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend my first summer as a wife!
I realize a while ago that I don’t like being told what to do. Being told to be quiet and just listen has never made me a happy pickle, and I hate the “it is because it is” answers. Being more aware of my stubbornness doesn’t always help me though, and I find myself questioning people’s methods all the time. I suppose there are good things and bad things to this, though usually I get into more trouble than I know what to do with. If only I could just go with the flow instead of thinking for myself.
There’s a comedian I enjoy listening to named Rachel Feinstein. If you look her up, I’m warning you now, she is far from “family friendly”. My favorite bit is from one of her shows where she goes off on a whole story about her nanny and her nanny’s dad. She imagines her as a girl where she was little and her father coming home one day. It goes a little something like this:
Papa: I hear you skirts want to work…in buildings with men?? I told you, you don’t need to work, you can stay home and make cupcakes and giggle. You like giggling, don’t you?
Nanny: It’s true Papa, we do want to go outside sometimes. It’s not just a nasty rumor, I’m afraid it’s true. Why, sometimes we get bored at home.
Papa: I told you if you get bored you can practice looking at a pretty pattern or doing a twirl. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?
Nanny: Yeah we twirled for a lot of hours, Papa. But I wanna go out and do something. Wouldn’t that be exciting? Me doing something! Come on Papa! No, Papa, I want to do something exciting. I mean sometimes I get bored. I know it’ll be hard outside, but I’d like to be a pilot. Imagine that, Papa! Me! Awww sure, it’d be scary, but let me try it!
Papa: Are you crazy? What’s next, you start wearing wristwatches and having opinions?
Nanny: Well then maybe I could be a stewardess. Imagine that Papa, me, a waitress on a plane! I’d like to try it. Come on, Papa, please let me try it…
Papa: Sounds like an opinion to me! Why don’t we take that on down to the old lobotomy factory and take a nice sweet chunk out of your brain…The talking back part.
Nanny: No, I don’t want to go to the lobotomy factory! Ever since Mildred came back, she’s useless! Now all she does is flap around and spit in the corner!
I laugh when I hear it, and the voices she does are hilarious. But it makes me think. Imagine if my stubbornness, my I’m-not-satisfied-with-your-answer-so-I’ll-keep-looking-for-one-myself-ness got taken away from me? Brought on down to the lobotomy factory to remove the talking back part. The think for myself part. The “I wanna do something exciting” part. What then?
I realize this all doesn’t sound like it has anything to do with my blog name or explaining the meaning behind it. But, I promise, if you hang with me for a sec, I’ll explain it to you.
When I was coming up with the name for my blog, I was trying to think of something creative that would catch people’s attention, and be something they would remember. I wanted it to stand out but also tell a little about who I am. Not much rhymes with Hannah, except for banana, a few made up words, and a couple US states. Not much to work with. In the end, I made a list of all the ones that were kind of functional.
My top favorites were:
- Partly Cloudy
- Sometimes I Do Stuff
- Sometimes I Put On Pants
I finally decided on Hannarchy for two reasons. Anarchy and Monarchy.
Anarchy is defined as a state of society without government or law. Monarchy is defined as a state or nation where the supreme power is held by a single person. The combined force of these two words (while being opposites) made sense to me. I’ve always been my own person, never a huge fan of the rules, and never a huge fan of being governed by them. Especially when the rules didn’t make sense. I know what I want (unless I’m ordering food at a restaurant) and usually go for what I want. Sometimes apologetically. And these things can be good! They drive me to do something out of the box and creative.
Unfortunately, with both of these words there comes a consequence. Anarchy never seems to last, as chaos rules and order is ignored. Living without boundaries or control can lead to a complete disruption of life. Monarchy can lead to a huge ego and a falsified sense of superiority. Knowing these things was important to me too. How better of a reminder than history to show what happens when anarchy and monarchy go bad? This it also is a reminder to myself.
If I become too enthralled with the idea of being unbound by the rules, or above them, I too can become another example of bad leaders in history. So where is the line? Where is the medium between the two extremes of my anarchist and monarchist tendencies?
The middle, I realized, is Hannah. Me. The girl who cares about people and about telling the truth. The writer, the artist, the lover, the fighter, the creator. The whole purpose of my blog was to write and tell the truth. Speak life into the mundane and shine light on pain. If I can combine the different aspects of who I am (anarchist, monarchist, and hannarchist), all while remaining true to myself, doesn’t that present a pretty clear picture of what I’m trying to do? I thought so.
In my vast attempt into writing more often than I do, I started a 31 Day Blog Challenge. That doesn’t mean I blog every day (because let’s be honest, I won’t), but helps me to write more often. You might want to start at Day 1 for a better understanding of what I’m doing.
Today is “20 Facts About Me”. Since I’m trying to add “stuff to the fluff” I’m going to try and list some things that not everyone might know about me. Does that mean that I’m about to dish on all of my secrets? No….yes…..sort of. I could just make a list of 20 normal things like my favorite color and dog breed. But, since I began this blog as a place to put truth and be honest, telling you my favorite color is black might not be that helpful….but then again, saying my favorite color is black tells you at least a little about me….right?
- My favorite color is black. And blue. And green. I realize this is an easy one to start out with because, let’s be honest: I don’t know how else to start this list.
- I’m getting married in 47 days. If you don’t know by now, I’m changing my last name and forever gluing my life to someone else’s. Am I scared? I used to be. I had two weeks at the beginning of January where I was terrified. Terrified of messing up his life by being the girl he picked. Thanks to my fiance, I’m no longer terrified. Just excited that I get to be with him for the rest of my life. And I think that’s a pretty awesome thing.
- I am a missionary kid. I grew up in Sarajevo, Bosnia, and went to the bosnian public school for four years of my life. Yes, I do speak Bosnian, and yes, I miss the fact that I have no one to speak the language with. It’s sad that I miss the mountains and the food and the language more than I miss the people. Maybe that makes me a bad missionary kid.
- I suck at friendships. There have been WAY too many friendships that I have let die because of the “out of sight, out of mind” rule. I also tend to get bossy or needy or I don’t try hard enough, and suddenly…. I’ve lost my best friend. Never intentionally, but one way or another, it happens. The girl I spent the majority of high school with is in college now, and we haven’t spoken in two years. I still miss her all the time, and honestly don’t know what happened between us. If I knew maybe I could fix it. I thought about inviting her to the wedding, but I honestly didn’t know if she would ever consider speaking with me again, much less come to the wedding. And even if she DID show up…I wouldn’t know what to say.
- I’m terrible at video games. My poor fiance is going to marry a girl who doesn’t play them and doesn’t really want to learn. I just want to skip forward to the part where I’m decently good and can whoop his butt.
- I love to make cake, just not eat it. I would much rather make a beautiful double strawberry cake with strawberry preserve filling and pink champagne buttercream icing, than actually eat a slice. I mean, I’ll definitely eat cake. But the only reason the cake ever gets finished is because of my roommate.
- I get depressed sometimes. I wrote a piece called Lines a little bit ago, and it was kind of a way to make sense of what I was feeling, and maybe tell people what was going on. I used to cut as well, and every once in a while I think about doing it again. Sometimes I give in. The only people who know about it are close friends. If my family reads this post, it’ll be the first time they find out.
- I’m a dog person. I absolutely love dogs!! Not the small rat-like ones, but golden retrievers, shepherds, and CORGIS. It’s a problem really. Every time me and my fiance pass a dog, he usually ends up dragging me away muttering, “You can’t have a dog. You can’t have a dog.” I already have a golden retriever, Miracle, but she lives with my parents right now, so I don’t see her too often.
- I’m a mom. Sort of…not really. I have quite a few adopted children, but the three that I actually think of as my kids are Margo, Noah, and Avery. Cheshire and I adopted them from camp last summer, and they are officially the best kids a non-mom could ask for. Margo and Noah are both writers and Avery is a theater girl. I’m so immensely proud of all of them. Nobody in this world has it easy, and it’s really hard to keep going when you feel like crawling into the woods to die. All my kids have dealt with some pretty hard stuff, and they still get up every day and fight. They’re amazing.
- I hate the phrase “My pleasure.” I realize it’s a Chick-Fil-A thing, and I still hate it. To me, if I hear it at Chick-Fil-A, it’s fine. They are required to say that because it’s part of the Chick-Fil-A experience. Cool. Whatever. But if I’m outside of Chick-Fil-A and I say “oh thank you” and you say “my pleasure”, I will immediately assume you used to work at Chick-Fil-A and it has been ingrained into your skull to say it. You don’t actually mean that it is your personal pleasure to hold that door for me, but that it’s not a problem for you and you don’t mind doing it. It doesn’t come across as thoughtful, it comes across as a habit.
- I am a mermaid. I realize that I don’t have a tail. And I realize I can’t breathe under water. But in my soul, I’m still a mermaid.
- I believe in Santa Clause. Don’t sit there and explain it to me, because you won’t change my mind. It’s not about believing that a fat little man in a red suit flies around the world in one night to bring everyone presents. It’s that I don’t like living in a world where magic doesn’t exist.
- My dream job as a kid was to be a vet. Mostly because of horses. The moment I found out I’d have to be in school for longer than four years, I changed my mind and went to Bible college instead.
- I smoke a pipe. Yep. It’s a thing. I don’t smoke it very often, but when I do, I’m usually sitting out on the back porch with Cheshire and we’re discussing theology and drinking wine. My mother hates that I do this.
- I threw up every night of my fourth grade year. First of all I should say that I didn’t have an eating disorder. It was my last year of Bosnian public school and my grades had dropped to almost all F’s. I was stressed the the max, and my body handled all that stress and worry by throwing up all the food I ate. I used to pray that God would just take away the sickness if I promised to spend a whole day throwing up in ten years. I used to sleep in the bathroom all the time because laying in bed just waiting for a wave of nausea was never fun. We thought I was allergic to tomato sauce for a while (since that was the food that seemed to trigger it so much) but it wasn’t until much later my mom realized what it was. Once I started homeschooling in 5th grade, I stopped being sick all the time. My parents were around much more, and my grades went back up. Every once in a while, when I’m getting really stressed out, my body handles it by throwing up. It’s probably the only reason I never dealt with an eating disorder. I spent way too much time involuntarily throwing up…why would I ever want to purposefully do it to myself?
- I’m afraid I’ll never be able to have kids. I don’t know why. There’s no specific reason, and it’s just a weird thing I worry about. I think it mostly stems from the false idea that you aren’t a real woman until you’ve become a mother.
- I close my eyes on the first drop of a roller coaster. As much as I love them, I can’t handle the first drop. But once that part is over, I’m perfectly fine.
- I don’t vote. I voted once when I first turned 18 as a “hey look I can vote now” sort of thing. I don’t remember who I voted for. I’ve been lectured for not voting by my mother and by my in-laws, but until I feel the NEED to vote (as in, put in my say for something/someone I believe in), I’m going to stay home while you proudly wear your “I VOTED” sticker.
- I cry over non-existent characters. I think this is a writer/reader problem. I get way too attached to people who aren’t real. Sometimes I care more about them than I do real people.
- I am a closet health nut. Gotcha!! No, I hate eating healthy. I’d rather just eat pudding.
Well there you go. 20 things you now know about me. Whew! That was easier than I thought it would be. I suppose adding “stuff to fluff” is easy when you are honest with yourself first. If I can admit the hard stuff as well as the normal good stuff, then maybe it makes each day better. One post at a time.