Pictures of my life in a thousand words . . . more or less.
My friends call me “Mel.”
I have four kids–three boys and one girl.
I’ve been married for over thirty years to Mr. Safety. He’s a pastor.
I have never made a list of “100 Things About Me.”
I hate domesticated birds, particularly those who fly into my hair.
Kraft Macaroni and Cheese disgusts me and always has. But my kids love it.
My left eyelid twitches when I’m stressed out or exhausted.
The summer I was fourteen, I rode my bike from Seattle to San Francisco.
I admit it. I like reality television shows. Especially the “Real Housewives. . . ” shows.
I still miss the television show “thirtysomething.”
I started my original blog when a message board friend suggested a bunch of should keep journals to show each other what our lives were like. Thanks, Brandie!
I didn’t date until I was a college freshman. I went to college in Springfield, Missouri.
I started playing the piano in second grade, but I still can barely play by ear.
When I was a child, I wanted to be a veterinarian, based entirely on my love for James Herriot’s All Creatures Great and Small.
I worked on a goat farm as a teenager and am still traumatized by the portly goat farmer woman who had me assist her as she sheared the sheep in her kitchen. She wore only her granny underpants and a t-shirt. Awkward.
I’ve never been stung by a bee. A stupid bee crawled into my slipper and stung me a few summers ago.
I’m addicted to Diet Coke. Don’t judge.
If I had to do it all over again, I never would have attended a Bible College, but would have applied to fancy East Coast universities.
I am an introvert. (INFJ, as a matter of fact.) I’m an Enneagram 1.
I have been known to ask wildly inappropriate questions while making small-talk. NOT ON PURPOSE.
I say regularly, “Let’s go, Joe,” and my new favorite, “Make it snappy, Pappy.” When I say “See you later, alligator,” I expect you to say, “After awhile, crocodile.”