I plainly have too much time on my hands....

What the ?@#$!"? I am blogging. I am sitting here, typing this, flabbergasted.
I am not a blogger. I am a wife. A mother. A photographer. I do not blog. I am, however, impulsive - and that I suppose, is what landed me here.

First things first: I am a terrible dancer. I have no sense of rythm and only dance when I am completely alone and the music is loud enough to force my body into some sort of convulsions that could be associated with dancing.
I love white wine, mint chocolate chip ice cream, and sushi - but not necessarily together or in that order.
I am stubborn, opinionated, passionate, slow to warm up. But I am loyal and protective of those I love. I feel misunderstood a lot.
I think in images - see life in pictures, feel emotion in colors. I feel vivid on the inside, but come across in grayscale more often than I'd like.
There are very few things that I feel very good at. I am a little bit of this, a little bit of that, but not completely anything. Does that make sense?
I am jaded by organized religion, but am continually on the path to greater Relationship. I'm glad I'm never alone, because sometimes it gets scary out there.

I commonly start things and never finish them.

We'll see how this goes...