If I had to choose between eating and writing, I'd write. One Thanksgiving I had a cup of yogurt, I was so far into my zone, working on a book.

Rebels always get my attention. As a preacher's grandkid, I rebelled early and often. My grandmother called me the "black sheep". Some of my poetry reflects that. I actually have a lot of different styles, depending on the subject.

I love bookstores. Used to love independent bookshops, but the corporates put them all out of biz. Cozy furniture, jugs of red to pass around...sigh. Poetry readings there used to be my life. Now I live in the boonies and they don't have them, don't even effin know what they are.

Erica Jong was my first poet guru. Then Allen Ginsberg, Charles Bukowski. Kerouac. Ferlinghetti. Actually, I love all poets and styles now. Diversity!

My husband has Asperger's, an autism-related neurological disorder. He's the only man I ever used to love who has the one thing it would take to keep me from leaving him.  His attitude is not his fault. I've just published n a book called "Your Thin Bones: Letters I Never Sent You". It's pretty harsh, but cathartic.

 I don't have regrets. All those rough bumps in the road molded me. I've tried to find the lesson in everything. I've had a LOT of danged lessons. You'd think I'd be done now.

 I hate shopping. No need for more stuff. I cut my own hair, do my own nails. I cut his hair and beard. Well, I trim them. (Not anymore; he won't let me touch it. He looks like Rasputin, the die-hard hippie.)

I don't feel this old on this side of my eyes. How did I get here? Mostly upbeat and positive, I hate whiners and peckerheads, love thinkers. New ideas. Broad-minded people. Calm people. People I can learn from. Iconoclasts. People who give back. Warriors. I despise nit-pickers, bigots, racists, intransigent twits, bible-thumpers, fanatics, and know-it-alls.

The eldest of 6 children...I'm the only girl. I got to babysit and rule. I no longer babysit but I still rule.