I’m originally from Atlanta, but moved to Houston a few months after marrying my engineer since this is where the oil is, or so they say – I’ve yet to find oil.
My husband, Benson, and I got engaged after three and a half weeks of dating. He was, and still is, the kindest man I’ve ever met. At this point I’d like to mention something about how we have a dog, but I’m afraid that if the dog dies, I’m going to sink into a massive depression if I have to delete this one day. Maybe one of you can do if for me though – surely there are hackers out there, right? With that, we have a handsome-as-ever Labradoodle named Cowboy Ledbetter. He is cuter than your dog. I’m sorry. UPDATE: We also now have a street dog named Chief. He, too, is cuter than your dog. OTHER UPDATE: Chief ate our hardwood floors.
I love pizza more than most people love their spouses. I love my cat so much that there could be a documentary on the relationship (I figure I’m safe here because cats live forever). I’m a crazy walker. When my friends whine about how fast I go, I tell them, “It’s called power walking, not sissy walking. Keep up.”
During the day, I am a freelance writer. My writing career began with a blog called Just the Assistant, which I wrote for three years. Thankfully, that blog opened new writing opportunities, and these days I write for The Associated Press as a book reviewer and a few other folks writing all sorts of crap. I’ve even written junk mail.
You may have seen it written in clever bubble lettering on the banners people roll out at Braves games that Jesus died and rose for you. Though I refrain from painting signs, the message is a reality for me. I’m reminded daily that I am the reason he had to die. I’m prideful, I’m envious, I’m selfish, I am a sinner. I am also saved by God’s grace.