Okay, here’s the truth. Once upon a time, at the ripe age of 3, I galloped across the bowling alley to see my dad who, as was routine, launched me into the air like the tiny dancer I was, only to be greeted by a fan blade to the forehead. What happened next is a blur because of the pain, but mostly because I was 3 and now I’m 33 so I can’t recall. But I can only imagine it sounded like kittens dying. A number of stitches, and chocolate ice cream later, and I haven’t been the same since. You see, I was *probably* going to be your regular corporate overachiever. But then my dad had to go launch me into a ceiling fan and I haven’t fit into a box since. BTW, I hate chocolate ice cream now. Coincidence? I doubt it. ANYWAYS, now I'm a photographer, setting my own hours, working at weird hours of the night, and raising my babies with a happy heart. It's probably my dad's fault.
Submit Form
Are you ready to take this internet romance to the next level? Cuz, same. You've (hopefully) read all about me, now tell me a little about you. THEN, we will set-up a coffee shop hang IRL. Not exactly local? No worries, we can keep this 'ship virtual with a little FT action.
Thank you so much for thinking I cam cool enough for contact info. It's a big first step. I'll be in touch soon, I can't wait to meet you, IRL!