Sweet Nothings
Exhausted both mentally and physically to the point of forgetting my own phone number and how to put on my shoes, snuggling with Joe was high on my priority list when I got home. It wasn’t until tonight that we both had the time and quasi-energy at the same time to attempt a snuggle-fest. We spooned on the bed, content to be together, and the sweet nothings ensued.
Me: What are you thinking about?
Him: Upholstery.
The Recap
Wow.
I was still going through my questions and finishing up last items on Thursday but I felt pretty prepared by the time I went to the dinner on Thursday night. All day Friday and all day Saturday I interviewed some amazing women. I was so busy that I didn’t get photos of all of them. Dang. In fact, I was so busy that I didn’t get to meet nearly as many people there as I wanted to. On the flip side, I got to really talk to those women that came in to film. We had a few problems come up and some people were very understanding and patient as we figured out the kinks (THANK YOU) but all in all it was a great weekend. Isabel Kallman, founder of Alpha Mom is truly an amazing woman and I thank her so much for sending me Mario for the weekend, without whom I might have died. And Chris. And Jesus. Can I get an amen?
The panel I was a part of went well, I thought. Danah was a great moderator. I wish I would have had more time to talk to her because I find her smart, fascinating and sporting great hair. It was great to finally meet Jenn, Denise and Erica in person. You can read more about our panel here on PBS Mediashift by Mark Glaser and here on The Huffington Post by Liz Henry. I was watching Liz type furiously during the panel and wondered how she could possibly get it all down. All in all, it’s a pretty accurate account. One part where she quotes me as saying, “Leah Peterson: I don’t blog about my kids, I have 4 kids all teens. And also my relationship with my husband.” was just a little off. I said something more like I make sure my kids are ok with what I blog about them and if they ask me not to blog something, I don’t because I want to make sure they always know they can tell me anything. But, wow, Liz can type fast.
And if that all wasn’t enough, Arianna Huffington sat down with me and Alpha Mom for a few minutes to talk about her new book. On Becoming Fearless….in Love, Work and Life is truly inspired. I think everyone should get a copy. I’ve read it twice now. I don’t know when any of the TV segments will be coming out but I’ll link to them when they do.
There were a few things like weird/spotty and not free internet connectivity and a large, laid-out conference area that made things challenging. And even though I only got to pop into one other panel besides my own for about 20 minutes, I was acutely aware that some people there were harboring and fostering some types of negative energy which made me sad. In my mind, when you get 700+ women together, we should all be planning to do something good, like switching things up in the government or figuring out how to make the perfect pair of high heels that make our calves look fantastic but don’t create blisters, rather than turning on each other. Just think what we could all do if we worked together! It would truly be a tragedy to waste the creative opportunity for greatness that Blogher facilitates.
Update: Sour Duck says some nice things about the panel here.
In San Jose
And I think I’m the only Her blogging. (Get it??)
The hotel is crazy busy and only one building has an elevator. They charged me $5.50 for a beer. I’m tired and a little sweaty from driving all afternoon and evening. But I’m glad I’m here.
I stopped to get gas about midway and went into a Foster’s Freeze. I haven’t seen one in a long time and I remember liking their fries when I was little. Plus, I had to use the ladies. When I walked in and saw that the place was empty, I was all, ‘Cool! The place is empty! No line in the ladies!’ But when I walked in to the bathroom, it was sans toilet paper, so I walked right back out and asked for someone to fix that situation. While I was waiting for the one and only girl to go in and add some TP while the guys all kind of stood around and helped, um, no one, since there was no one to help, I ordered some fries, an iced tea and because I knew I’d probably need some protein, a burrito. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when I was washing my hands that I thought is was odd that they even had a burrito. I didn’t remember any burritos when I was little. But, what the heck. A burrito.
I walked back out into the deserted dining area to sit down and wait and noticed that I wasn’t really all alone after all. The table next to me had two flies on it. So I walked to the next table. It had three flies on it. So I just kept walking around the room, passing table after table of flies having dinner, until I had completed one lap and then stood next to the counter, hoping against hope that all the flies were, for some reason, more apt to be on one side of the counter than the other. Sadly, I was wrong, and the flies by the warmer and dancing on top of the drink station seemed to be having quite a party.
My feet frozen to my spot, but keeping my arms twitching and my head swaying lest I look like a good landing spot to a fly, I heard a ding and I thought, ‘Phew! My flies, I mean, fries are done!’ But alas, it was not my fries but instead my burrito getting pulled out of the deep fryer. My fries were under the warmer becoming a fly family of 9′s appetizer.
The young man grabbed the fries, shoved them and the burrito in the sack, handed me my iced tea and asked if I wanted ketchup. I KNEW I wasn’t going to eat them, and FYI, I never eat ketchup on my fries, but for some reason, I said yes. He threw some in and handed me the sack. I walked outside and into my car and sat there for about 3 minutes in silence wondering why I didn’t demand my $6.01 back.
Instead, I grabbed the burrito, mostly because I was fascinated that they had put in in the deep fryer (??) and cracked it open. It was filled with chili.
Huh.
So, I threw it all away in the trashcan in the parking lot and went back to the gas station and bought a water and a bag of pumpkin seeds. That and this beer is dinner. Nutritious. My mother would be so proud.
Off to take a cold shower and get in bed. Hey, the comforter is pretty nice. I brought my own from home for nothing……
You Can Touch My Weenis at Blogher
What’s really, really funny is to walk around saying ‘weenis‘ all the time. Just ask my kids. They come up to me and pinch my elbows and say, ‘Oh, sorry. Did I hurt your weenis?’ and then laugh and laugh. And laugh. And then they do it to each other and laugh some more. Not only do I not find it funny, I think the word ‘weenis’ should die a quick death. It’s a dumb word. Who invented it? I’d like a few minutes of their time. Creating a word that sounds like another word, that happens to be what we in these parts call a Potty Word, is just dumb. I’m living in a sitcom laugh track over here. Come on!
I have Blogher on the brain. I’m a little nervous about my panel but since I’m doing it with such great women, I’m mostly ok with that. But, in an insane moment, Alpha Mom asked me to do interviews with some pretty choice women. These are FILMED interviews. And I’m nervous because, dude, I am not used to being on the other side of the camera. All I can say is that it’s a darn good thing there is a makeup artist there to help me when I have something on my chin that looks like cheese doodle. So, if you’re going to Blogher, I’ll be the one that is going up and down the elevator every fifteen minutes before, after, and in between the workshops trying to fit in time to speak with all of my internet rockstar idols. I can’t wait to meet them all and I hope they don’t think I am too much of a dork. Unless they like dork. And then, my friends, they will be blown away and fall in love with me.
Here is a list of all the wonderful women I get to interview in no particular order besides the order that I had them written down in Notepad:
Marrit, Yvonne, Amy, Tracey, Tracey, Alice, Angela, Eden, Kim, Jen,
Grace -n- Molly, Andrea, and Catherine. And probably Heather, if I can get her to put down the martini and sober her up with some coffee. Or, I could just film her while she’s sleeping.
There are some other women that I can’t wait to have a drink with and do their hair and nails and if you are going, this probably includes you. I’m driving up Wednesday. Anyone else around that early?
End of the Fauxcation
Ah, Internet. Have you missed me? Thank you for your nice notes. I have so much to tell. I’ll have to break it into parts.
I dropped the kids off just moments ago and already The Sad has infected my heart. Yes, I’ll see Devon tomorrow and Alexandra in a few days and Tyler and Tony in a little over a week, but WOW it is so great when they are here 24/7.
We had fun. It was hard some days. We didn’t Go anywhere or Do anything but we did spend lots of time together hanging out. As Tyler said out of the blue, ‘It’s not what we do, Mom, it’s who we do it with.’ And then my heart exploded and I died. The end.
We went to Universal Studios one day and City Walk a few times. The kids have a season pass which includes discounts on anything you buy, including food. Score! I find most of the ‘Rides’ and ‘Adventures’ to be lame, but what can be better than walking through Van Helsing with your daughter who is so spooked that she insists on having your arms wrapped around her waist the entire time? When we walked out she tried to act all cool and smooth her hair back, but dude, she and I both know she wanted me to hold her hand, so she does still need her mommy.
Speaking of my daughter, she has just gone through one of those major growth spurts. The kind that leave you, the mother, a little breathless and off center. Dizzy, even. She has had her learners permit for a few months, so I’ve known that she is moving towards being a Real Driver. I know this, and yet I persist in ignoring it. But late Friday night, her father drove her to Phoenix to pick up a car he got her in an auction. They got back Saturday evening and she is now the proud owner of the cutest, yellow, ’71, automatic, convertible VW Bug you have ever seen. She even took me for a ride. She was a little nervous but she did great. And she looked so OOOOOOld. And I want to throw up my hands and whine, ‘When did this happen??’ but I actually know when it happened. It’s been happening.
She has her first real crush. He lives a few towns away and she is all giggly and cute and so liking him, like totally. I told her she better change the phone plan to unlimited texting because her hand is now permanently attached to her cell phone. I asked her one day to turn her @#$%@!!* phone off for a few hours because @#$&!@#! it is just unreasonable to text every 3 minutes the entire live long day and she will die from carpal tunnel. She acquiesced and actually tried to take part in what the rest of us were doing but sadness descended upon her and my heart couldn’t take it! I looked at her sad puppy eyes and her itching fingers and her spasms and ticks from withdrawal and I gave the phone back to her for resumed texting. Her smile cleared the skies and the sun came out. You can blame her for this heat wave we are having. Thanks a lot, Alex. Thanks a. lot.
But I look at her manner and her speech and the way she carries herself and she is Older. Sigh. Here she is right before she went to see her BF.
And here we are in our maiden voyage.
But, back to Universal Studios. I sat for about 45 minutes in front of one of the stores near the entrance waiting for a couple of the kids to meet up. During that time span I realized that I was listening to the Jurassic Park soundtrack and that I had been listening to it all day. I could hear the rousing refrains of music meant to inspire me to trek across wild and prehistoric terrain in search of T-Rex but all I wanted to do was sit in the shade away from the 150 degree heat. After I noticed it, I couldn’t stop being annoyed by it. Why? Why are you trying to make me jump up and march? Stop it! See me? I am sitting!! Also, there were very, very, Very annoying people that try to highjack you upon entering the park to ‘Give you a free bag! Waterproof! For the Waterworld Adventure!’ when what they really want to do is ‘Have you fill out a form’ which is really an application for a MasterCard. The Douchebags! It was good fun to watch people shoot them down. It was strange to watch one of the guy’s eyes as he tried to Make Eye Contact and draw fellow park-goers in. And it was sad to watch them demean themselves. But then sometimes I started feeling really bad for them because surely, they must have no other options because, Dude! who would want THAT job? No one, is the answer to that question. No one wants it. And I bet no one keeps it for very long because your soul dies the death similar to the telemarketer and then you get a job at Geico.
I made the kids take a photo with Frankenstein. Sorry, Mr. F. You prolly hate your job, too. But not as much as my kids hated me making them stand with you for this photo. Thanks for the Franken-hands!
Possibilities
Where do I go from here? I can do anything I want. The possibilities are endless. This scares me the same way Super Wal-Mart scares me and (besides them being evil) why I don’t go there. I don’t want isles and isles of choices. I want 3 different kinds of blenders to choose from. I can handle that selection. But give me two isles of blenders from the itty, one cup version to the mongo, party sized one that also doubles as a cappuccino maker and Slip-n-Slide, I freeze. Too. Many. Choices. My brain shuts down and I stand there, drool slowly dripping out of the right corner of my mouth and a shhoooooooo noise emanating from my person.
If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?
This is the question doing brain things inside my head.
Joe is very happy with his new employment situation. I think I was hoping in a very small and selfish way that he would go for a week to a place far, far away, commuting and hating the heat, working for much less money per hour and then tell me, ‘Gee, honey, I really miss working with you. I had no idea how good we had it. I’m going to come back and work with you again and really give it my all this time!’ This has not happened. In fact, he is flourishing. He is working harder than I’ve ever seen him work. He has so much determination to get things done that I forget I was upset. But then I remember. But that is just my own shit and has nothing to do with him. Him? He’s doing great.
So, what do I want to do? I’ve been a fulltime artist, photographer and writer. I’ve been a fulltime Project Manager and Project Director. (Those must be capitalized?) And then I was a fulltime Web Developer and partner. Now I’m doing lots of those things part-time and really missing the connection of Doing Something.
I realize that anyone at any time can decide to change their life and vocation. Anyone. Any time. However, this break and subsequent vocation change has been thrust at me. Have I mentioned I’m a planner? I did not plan for this. I plan when to change the lint screen and when to rotate the socks. I am unprepared! Maybe this is bordering on mid-life crisis. It must be time to get my nose repierced, get a new tattoo and chain smoke cloves while reciting bad prose I wrote people-watching at the Getty.
I’ve been working on other people’s projects for years. Now I would like to work on my own. But I feel like I need a person, a sounding board, a partner. Someone that listens to my ideas and tells me that it sounds like a bunch of crap. Or not. Someone that tells me their ideas and we work on them together. Someone that wants to work in online networking. Someone that has some design skills and programming skills to compliment my own. Someone that wants to work with me. I don’t feel qualified to do everything on my own and I miss working with other people. And Leah just sitting and stewing in her own juice all day does not make a sweet stew.
At some point, Joe and I said we would be all of those things for each other. We would be a Power Couple and work together and build something great. Really great. It’s hard to let go of all those ideas and feelings. I’m sad about that. But working together has not been good for Joe and I. I’m a perfectionist. He’s not. I have a driving need to get work done at a rapid pace. He does not. We even have different definitions of integrity. As it turns out, we aren’t the same person. Who knew? In short, we drove each other crazy. And even with not having a car all day, since we only have one and he uses it to commute to Far Far Away, I feel better. The energy in the house is clearer. When he comes home, he doesn’t have to feel like he’s still at work and I don’t feel like I need to ask him where he’s at with a million different projects. If he wasn’t so tired from getting up so early and coming home so late, I’m sure we’d have lots to commiserate about. We’d cuddle and laugh. He’d rub my feet. I’d tell him the funny thing our pet spider plant did and he’d use the anecdote with his colleagues the next day around the water cooler. It would be good times.
The kids are around for the next week or so and there really isn’t anything to be done in the Figuring Out The Future venue while we are ‘vacationing’ together. But the thought sits there, in the director’s chair with ‘Leahpeah’ written on the back, at the fore.
Alpine Skate Park
In the interest of doing activities that are free and close by, the kids and I went to check out Alpine Skate Park in Ventura. It’s all housed within one building. They have a very large area to skate, a concert area, a gaming room and a place where the other people can hang out with some pretty great murals throughout. They also have a beauty parlor and a smallish store, but they weren’t open. They have free wireless. The evenings get quite hoppin with the odd and punk people in the area. Sadly, I had left but Devon reported that I would have loved it.
Devon took us there in his Thing. I haven’t been in a convertible anything in quite a while and it was fun for a short trip. Of course, I wasn’t in the back.
We ate at a nearby bar and grill where a man got kicked out for being disorderly during Happy Hour and trying to pick a fight. We ate Gator Eggs and extremely hot Hell-O sauce. The water tasted slightly of Sprite, which is so irritating. I want it to be either Sprite or water, not a sad, weak combination of both. The ice was the really good kind, though.
Tony and Tyler are both battling a bad and snotty cold. Today, both of their throats are yucky and they are hacking at each other and filling the entire trash bin with used tissues. So far this week we’ve gone through 5 tissue boxes. I’m kind of glad we aren’t traveling since they would be hating it, which means I would be hating it. But I’m still looking for something for next week. Something local-er than Oregon and Utah. Maybe Santa Barbara or San Diego. Hopefully something inexpensive due to someone else canceling at the last minute due to unexpected hardship. Not that I’m wishing hardship on anyone, Strike that. Let’s say they have to change plans because they just won the lottery and have so much paperwork to sign, they can’t possibly get away. Our vacation budget is quite small this year. And when I say small, I mean tiny. And when I say tiny, I mean pretty much there isn’t one. I mean, if you think about it, we can’t afford to go anywhere or eat out. Or for that matter, eat in.
Everyone, stop eating.
Because our vacation plans have been cancelled and changed about 20 times over the past week, I refuse to plan anything else ever again. Ever. I am not just a semi-planner. I am a Planner. I use an itinerary complete with maps, directions, phone numbers, approximate costs, highlights of the activity, expected weather and a packing list. And that is just the first 20 pages. I number the pages and create a Travel Book. This is so beyond just making plans. This is deep in the sad OCD place that drives those around me crazy. And because of the depths I go to to create these Travel Books, it is not a simple thing to just change plans. This makes me a pain. And I am sorry.
My daughter is….my daughter. She likes my Travel Books. She likes to see what we will be doing and who we will be doing it with. She would even like it better if I had the hours written down, but I only use generalized parts of the day, like ‘early morning’ and ‘after dinner.’ She is my spawn. She is the one hollering at everyone to get in the shower, to get out of the shower, to shower faster, to leave the door open so she can do her hair while they shower and to shut the door because the Axe in the air is killing her. She doesn’t mean to be bossy. She just knows the right way to do things and wants to help you to achieve your personal best. Huh. That sounds so familiar……
If we survive these two weeks with each other with no concrete ‘Vacation, Summer 2006′ plans and no money to do anything or go anywhere, we might just be translated and go straight to the Celestial Kingdom. And then I’d miss out on more of Alex with her permit, driving our huge and very heavy van in the same area as other cars. That are moving. Towards us. But, it’s a free activity, which makes it at the top of the list of things to do. Hold me.
Licking the Night Away
Dear Heather,
To take your mind off the painy crap happening in Utah (where we aren’t) we thought we’d send you a virtual hello from California (where we are) where we spent the night licking everything at City Walk just for you.
Tony started with the freaky carhead lady:
Alex was a little hesitant, so she warmed up with a high-five:
But quickly transitioned to the Hulk:
Tony went in for the pretzel:
And the camera:
Even Joe gave Yoda a nice big wet one for you:
Ty allowed his photo to be taken (I’ll take what I can get):
And, um, Devon played DDR (he cares deeply, and hides it well):
xo,
l,j,d,a,t,t
Send Mia to the Finals
Read about it here.
Contribute here.
Zooomr is Pro
Zooomr is giving away free Pro accounts to bloggers*.
Thanks, Jenn. : )
I Heart Zooomr
It’s new. It’s fun. I love it. I’m probably jumping the gun writing about it because Thomas told me that very soon there will be even newer upgrades, but I can’t help myself – I Heart Zooomr.
Everyone knows I love Flickr. And I still do. Zooomr does not take the place of Flickr. It instead fills another need I have, which is storytelling with my photos. I can upload my photos to Zooomr and go to the LightMap and actually GEO-place them where I physically took them. Kind of like a little breadcrumb trail of where I’ve lived and traveled and what has interested me enough to photograph. Can you just feel the ideas coursing through my veins? The possibilities??
And adding to that is the option to tag yourself inside all your photos that show you. There are specific guidelines, like making sure a certain percentage of yourself is showing in the photo, but just think what this can do for the vain people (or the teen to young 20 set with the ‘angles’ shots) in the world in helping inspire them to shoot themselves more! And other people that take your photo can add your ‘name’ tag to their photos. And pretty soon you are the most famous person at Zooomr. Ah, fame.
As if that weren’t enough, you can add to the story with a Zooomrtation. What is a Zooomrtation? It’s a sound file (MP3 and WAV) that further describes your image. It could be you talking about where you took the photo or a song to describe how you were feeling. I don’t know if there are any copyright issues with this.
The idea that I could travel inside someone’s head and see what they see, hear what they hear and experience how they feel totally tickles me in ways I can’t explain. Whatever makes me want to interview people and find out what makes them tick – that is the part of me that loves the entire Zooomr concept.
The log in process is a little hard for me. I’m so used to conventional methods, that having all the really cool and (I’m sure) progressive and safe ways to log in is a little much for me. I also get logged out more often than I would like. I would prefer to be able to just keep the browser window open and not get logged out. The community aspect of Zooomr could use some work, and it may be coming in the 2.0 launch, but all in all, I love it and can’t wait to see what happens next.
UPDATE: I forgot to mention one of my favorite parts: Zooomr has an explicit cover image that must be clicked on to show the actual image that has been tagged as explicit. As a mom, I SO appreciate that. You sometimes get tired of the child sitting next to you being surprised by a large set of gazongas that may be art or photographed with class, sure, but large gazongas all the same. It’s nice to have the choice to view it or not. I haven’t uploaded any image that would be considered explicit so I don’t know if this is a voluntary thing or not.
And Then, I Didn't Die
Do you see this photo?
Anything you notice about it? Here’s a hint: view original sizes.
Any idea what it might mean?
Try not to notice the obvious, which is that my kitchen counter appears to have more alcohol on it than the corner bar or that said alcohol is still taking prime real estate even though the party was July 3rd and leaving no room for the dirty dishes that are piled next to the toaster.
Look beyond the delicious cherry topping on the mini cheese cakes I made.
I got my F717 back in the mail and lo, it was fixed. And I saw that it was good. And then the angels sang, the heavens rejoiced and all was well with the world. And I did not give up the ghost because there was too much alcohol left to enjoy and too many more objects to take photos of.
No, I Never Thought I Could Dance, Really.
Am I the only one that thinks that the freestyle dancing they do on So, You Think You Can Dance? when they are trying to save their assess looks like crap? I just can’t take it seriously. Waving their arms to and fro. They jump high, swoop low and pirouette – with So Much Feeling. The swishing. The tumbling. The fake pulling the sky towards you and then collapsing in a heap? Why?
As a visual artist, you think I might be able to appreciate it more since my art is all about unreserved expression. But, nope. They look like idiots to me. I can totally get behind the couples dancing. The Salsa, Merengue, Quick Step – yes, yes, yes. I love it. My left foot starts shaking to the beat and when I notice and try to keep it still, the next thing I know, my big toe is tapping. I even like the Hip Hop routines. Can’t we just keep all those around and get rid of the freestyle crap? Who do I need to talk to?
Random
I’m kind of a health-nut eater. I like organic, all natural etc. etc. But for some reason, Cap’n Crunch Berries makes me swoon in ecstasy. The cereal is particularly crunchy and cuts the crap out of the roof of my mouth and it hurts for a few days. I know before I eat it that when I finish the bowl, within minutes, my mouth will hurt. And still I eat. I gave up meth, but don’t ask me to give up my Crunch Berries.
~~
While staying in and doing my best to indulge in my own independence by not participating in Independence Day, I watch about an hour of Janice Dickinson that I can never get back. She would like to hire you because you move her with your great ethnic looks. But she would not like to hire your nose, so you’ll need to get that done. Also, she has two words for you: ‘Out!’
~~
I watched the mama bird for weeks. She religiously stayed at the nest and every time I opened the sliding glass door to go in the yard, she flew out of the rafters right above my head to the tree at the edge of the fence. Sometimes she would call at me a little, not sure if I was a danger to her eggs or not, but making some noise to distract me all the same. She tried to be patient while I sat in the swing, having my nightly smoke, rocking back and forth, back and forth. I would try to soothe her while I soothed myself with the steady rhythm.
One evening, I heard small and insistent peeps coming from the nest. The mama bird flew to the fence as expected, but then came three feet in front of me on the ground, scolding. How large I must have looked to her; so threatening. And yet, she was unafraid and lectured me soundly.
A few weeks later, as I unwound in the swing, I noticed her absence. The familiar swoosh as I came out the door had been missing. In the dwindling light, I noticed two shapes on the cement slightly to the right. And there they were: her babies, still and quiet, legs stiff. I was startled. Then sad. Then outraged on their behalf. And then from the left, I saw the mama bird flying in, worm in her mouth. She walked to one and then the other, questioning them, asking them to wake up and take a bite. And then I saw the other bugs and worms around them in a cluster here and there. She had been at it for hours. There were ants coming in, marching from the crack in the cement, looking at the bugs, sure, because they were there, but more importantly, exploring the babies. I looked at their fully formed wings, their tiny beaks, and wondered allowed what had happened? She had been so diligent! So ferociously diligent!
We wrapped them in paper and set them in the rubbish bin, Joe helping out with the wrapping since I couldn’t bare it. And we kept our thoughts to ourselves. And I cried a little for the mama and her babies that would never fly.
Interview with Amanda Brumfield
Amanda and her husband have spent the past year wading through bureaucracy up to their armpits trying to recover from Katrina. Their home is getting closer and closer to being done, just in time for this year’s wonderful storm season. There have been other hardships as well over the past year, and you might expect someone in her position to be mostly, rightfully and out of necessity, focused on herself. But in Amanda’s case, you’d be wrong. She spends her days helping people with their medical claims and often goes above and beyond the call of duty. Case in point would be Chester as well as various animals found in the wild that need a good home and nursing back to health.
When you read Very Zen, you understand very clearly how much she cares – just genuinely cares. And you feel it loud and clear. When you read between the lines, you see how big her heart really is.
In the ‘Also’ category, Amanda writes and sings songs in the bathroom and has met Chewbacca.
