I like to be challenged, and constantly look for situations where I will be.

I enjoy reading academic journals – it is almost euphoric.

I once ran away to Europe for eight months and roamed around aimlessly. If I hadn’t been in such a haze I would have probably enjoyed it more – I can hardly remember some of the towns I stayed in.

During that same period I have one vivid memory. It was my first night in Paris and I remember going into the Christian Dior store down the Champs Elysees. I bought a large bottle of Dune and spent a fortune on it. As I walked out I realized I had nothing left for food and I bought pretzels from a street vendor. I spent the evening on a bench eating pretzels and wearing way too much perfume. I was happy.

My mother has taught me everything I need to survive. She has taught me how to live. I owe her everything.

I will always be daddy’s little girl.

I love British humor. Last night I took a break and watched Eddie Izzard. I needed that.

When I take my make up off I have been told I look like I am twelve. Aside from my parents, and my kids, only four people have seen this (in the past ten years). Needless to say I don’t leave the house without make up on. Ever.

With Munchie I went into labor at work. I finished out my day, met up with Tanya for coffee (having contractions every twenty minutes or so, and totally freaking her out), ran errands, came home, had dinner, and then went to the hospital.

When I went into labor with Ducky at two in the morning, I all of a sudden realized all the things I needed to do. An entire list materialized in my head.

My threshold for pain is actually quite amazing.

I can read and write in three languages. English was not my first. Or second.

One of the nicest men I had ever met was accidental. I was in Zurich flying to New York. There was a blizzard and the plane landed in Amsterdam. There were no outgoing flights for the next day and and a half. I sat at coffee shop when he approached me. His flight had just landed from Dublin, and he asked if he could take me to dinner. We left the airport and went to a restaurant in Haarlem. We talked until the restaurant closed, and migrated to a nearby pub, followed by another pub. It was three in the morning and we ended up at his apartment. We watched Casablanca. Then he left me on the couch and went off to bed. He woke me up a few hours later and drove me to the airport.

I remember when I was a little girl my grandfather would take me to the park. After playing and walking around for a while we would get ice cream. I always got the vanilla ice cream on a stick. I remember the distinct flavor of the vanilla and I have been searching for it for twenty years. I have never found vanilla that tastes quite the same. I have even gone back to that same park several times. They must have changed the recipe.

I love it when it is cold and I can wrap myself up in blankets at night with nothing but the top of my head exposed. Then I will poke a leg out, let it get cold, and withdraw it back into the warmth.

I know what I want.

I like to write short stories and poems. No one has ever read them. Not even Tanya.

Cooking is a performing art. When done right it is beautiful. And delicious. There is this one potato dish I adore making. No one understands that I don’t burn it accidentally – it is supposed to be burned. I love it charred.

I love baking even more than cooking. I spend days on my holiday baking. I find the most complex, rich and delectable recipes and make dozens of them. Yes, I do end up with a massive sugar high.