This is me, the one who does not like her photo taken. A number of you have asked me to put up photos of myself…and I love dares, and I like to please others, and I am a easily led. Actually, the truth of the matter is, that some of you have been cheering French husband to write a blog titled, "ABOUT COREY?!" I need to take my temperature…I thought, "Tongue and Cheek," was about Corey? Am I missing something?
About Corey? What do you want to know?
Basic facts about me: I grew up on a farm in Willows California. I was surrounded by cows, rice fields, motorcycles, faith, four younger brothers, a million cousins, and a wonderful family. When I was 19, I became a vegetarian. At the same time I entered a Saint Benedictine monastery in New Mexico. I did the monastic thing for three years. It was a mixed community of men and women. It made praying fun. When I left the monastery, I worked for the catholic church in San Francisco. A few years later, I met French husband in a gay discotheque. We moved to France, where we are doing the multi-cultural-bilingual-family thing.
Very am I dyslexic. Writing comes not easy. Sentences are reversed. Let’s not talk about numbers! Or sounds…
How did I ever learn French?
There. I said it! The "D" word. Whew. Now that you know, will you forgive my writing errors, mercifully?
I think my camera looks like my nose.
Storytelling and making faces is an Amaro trait. You should meet my brothers, Marty, Mathew, Mark and Zane, they put me to shame in this department.
I am terrified of the dark. My imagination over-reacts in dark places. I am afraid of dogs and cats too.
When Sacha was three weeks old, I discovered I had ovarian cancer. To add to the fun, Sacha had an illness too. We didn’t sleep much. I got really skinny, 88 pounds worth, and never had to shave my legs, as my hair fell off. We survived. A friend told me she envied my experience. I understood what she meant. It has made me real. Having cancer made everything in life seem like a piece of cake, though childbirth wasn’t as easy as a picnic.
Having to experience doctor visits and chemotherapy in French was a blessing. It forced me to learn French. Often I felt out of place, as if that time in my life was just a bad dream.
Life is full of surprises, and it doesn’t matter if you forget to brush your hair. Being who you are is the best gift you can give to yourself.
Should I erase this?
photos: Of me, by me, in front of my bathroom mirror. French husband does not need to write a blog, and I do not need to add another photo of myself for another fifty years.
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