I've written some about my younger sister Maggie, who is eighteen.
You can read more about her at her new blog.
Two weeks ago my dad and I drove down to Kentucky to see my uncle get his doctorate in biblical studies. My uncle, who is my dad’s younger brother, is a lot like my dad (wonderful!) and his wife is the sweetest southern lady you will ever meet. They’re strong Christians, and have been missionaries to Ecuador for most of the past fifteen years. Soon after we started trying to conceive, we asked them to pray for us, and I’m sure they have been doing so faithfully ever since.
I pray constantly for a child, but unless it’s only Michael and me praying, I’m unable to say that prayer out loud. My family says Evening Prayer together every day, and there’s a section for general intercessions. When I’m praying with them and we get to that section, I can feel the most fervent of my petitions swelling up in my throat, but it always chokes me, and I end up swallowing tears while praying quickly for an increase in vocations or for my grandmother’s health. I know that my family loves me unbelievably, but that part of me that has been broken by infertility is so tender that I cannot bear to show it even to them.
But when we were in Kentucky my dad and I said Evening Prayer with my aunt and uncle and cousin. And during the general intercessions my aunt prayed, in her soft accent with her hand resting gently on me, that Michael and I would conceive a child. I had my head bowed and at her words I buried it in my hands, because I could not stop the tears from coming. My uncle came over and put his hands on my shoulders, and in the silence of that moment I could feel their love, a tiny piece of Christ’s love brought to me in that moment, and suddenly I didn’t need to hide any more. I lifted my tear-stained face and bared my grief, and that tender spot inside me healed just a little.
After formal Evening Prayer, my aunt and uncle and my dad prayed a prayer of healing for me, with their hands on my head and my shoulders, holding my hands, holding me. I cried until I was aching, but it was the kind of crying that makes you feel more whole after you’ve done it. When they were done praying I felt weak, but peaceful – and sure for the first time that I will eventually be healed.
In the days since then, I’ve been thinking about what healing means, and I feel certain that healing from infertility is much more than simply becoming a parent when you were once childless. Were I to get pregnant tomorrow, I would be thrilled, but I think I would still feel broken. The hurt of this time, which has changed me so essentially, could not just disappear.
But if by grace I can come to terms with that hurt, if I can realize that I am precious in spite of my infertility, if I can accept God’s love and love myself as easily as I would were I not infertile, then, perhaps, I will be healed.
I know instinctively that I am made to give love in a certain way, and being prevented from giving that love by no choice of my own, I feel less a woman and less a person. Somehow, infertility has become my fault, though I know that I have not chosen it, though every part of me cries out against it. I hate the infertility and so I hate a part of myself.
I know this is not right. I know it with my mind. But my heart and my soul do not affirm it, and until they do, I will not be healed even though I bear ten children. On the other hand, maybe I could be healed even if I do not bear children. And then, perhaps, I will be able to bring someone else’s children into my home and raise them as my own – and become able to think of them, as so many mothers have become able, not as someone else’s children but as my own.
Each of us has a void which only Love Himself can fill. Infertility has thrown my void into stark relief, has shown me how I was heedlessly looking for children to fill it. But every other love, even the singular love of a parent for a child, is merely a quiet, rough echo of the love of God. If I do not affirm that, I will always be broken.
When my family was getting ready to pray for me and I could not stop crying, I apologized, “I can’t keep it together.”
My dad held my hand and said, “Honey, you don’t have to. God will.”
Pray that I shall be able to let Him.
Last Monday we had some family friends over for dinner, a married couple and their three daughters. We met them because Rob sails with Michael’s father, but he and Stacy are only about fifteen years older than us, instead of thirty years older like our parents. They live about twenty minutes away, and they’re so much fun that we try to get together with them fairly often.
I got great advice from you all about what to do for a job, but I’d already decided that I wouldn’t look for anything permanent until fall. We have a lot of trips planned this summer, and I figured I’d have a hard time finding a job if I started off by telling them I couldn’t work during most of July. I planned to just do temp work (I’ve had good luck with Manpower) through the summer, because it’s very flexible.
But Rob is a lawyer who started his own practice a few years ago, and it has just gotten to the point where he needs to hire an assistant. (He has a receptionist/secretary, but he needs someone to do actual legal work.) He mentioned this at dinner last Monday, and I mentioned that I was looking for a job, and he told me to send him my resume . That was how I ended up in his office on Friday, with him telling me that he wants to hire me to do paralegal work for him. I’ll be training through the summer, with very flexible hours, and as the fall comes around he expects that I’ll be able to handle a lot of the stuff that he does himself right now, including preparing a lot of legal documents, meeting with clients, and going to court with him. He’ll only be paying me $10/hour while I’m training, but after I can do real work, it’ll go up quite a bit.
I’m excited about this job because it seems like it’ll be more interesting than the standard clerical work I’m used to doing. I’m also thrilled about working with Rob; he’s laid-back and hilarious and I think he’ll be a dream to work for. Granted, I might hate legal work, but Rob’s not a trial lawyer – he does mostly commercial properties, leases and things like that – so it won’t be too stressful, and since I’m so detail-oriented I might love the work. It’ll certainly be a good chance for me to find out if I want to go to law school, which is something I haven’t completely ruled out for the future.
The best thing about this job, though, is that it will provide significant extra income for Michael and me. We can live on his income alone, but we have to live sparingly. Up until this point I thought we’d never be able to afford adoption, but now if we decide to adopt, we’ll have the money to do it. For now, we’re going to use it to pay off some big debts (student loans, anyone?) and then by fall, perhaps, we’ll start putting money into a “possible adoption” fund. I’m really excited about that.
I start tomorrow!
Here are the first answers to the questions you all asked. If people ask more then I’ll simply add them to this list. Thanks, everyone who asked – this is fun!
1. Dooneybug asked: How old were you when you had your first kiss and describe the setting and what you were thinking when it happened.
My first was very innocent, but also kind of traumatic for me at the time (in the way that many coming-of-age experiences are – I’m over it now, and have been for years) and so instead I’m going to tell you about Michael’s and my first kiss. It was a mild fall evening, and he was dropping me off after a date – we’d gone out to dinner with his parents – and he got out of the car to walk me up to the door. He hugged me goodbye and, almost as if it had been an accident, his lips brushed mine. It was so light and so quick that afterward it seemed surreal, and I wondered if the kiss had actually happened at all. But it did (I’ve checked with him) and the memory is a lovely one.
2. Sarah asked: Have you ever read any Stephen King novels? If yes, did you enjoy them or dislike them, and why?
No. And I never will, because scary stuff scares me. I kid you not, it is absolutely impossible for me to watch a scary movie. I will not do it. I refuse. Michael and I saw The Perfect Storm in the theater, and I spent most of the movie with my head buried in his shoulder because BAD THINGS were happening to people! Bad bad bad bad bad! And those things were just nature going crazy and were not even supposed to be evil. If they were supposed to be evil I probably would have died before the movie was over. So reading a book that is supposed to scare you sounds exactly like torture to me. Which is why I will never do it. The End.
3. Becki asked: If you were having a day when you needed a little TLC from a friend (down with a cold, say, or just feeling blue), what kinds of things would you love to have someone do for you? And don't let your internal critic worry that you're imposing on the hypothetical friend, either.
Okay, first, the person would bring me breakfast in bed. Some kind of a yummy coffee cake, or blueberry muffins, with crispy bacon and orange juice and tea. And we’d both sit there and eat and talk and enjoy ourselves. Then my friend would go do the dishes and I’d hop in the shower, and when I got out I’d put on clean pajamas and come out into the living room, where everything would be sparkly clean and set up for us to watch movies. We’d watch three or four of them, in marathon, snacking on whatever yummy food we felt like eating. I would possibly take a nap somewhere in there. Then I’d read while my friend cooked dinner, which would be some kind of pasta with garlic bread and then warm apple pie for dessert. And all day I wouldn’t have to do any kind of cleaning or tidying, but I wouldn’t have to feel bad for not doing it either, because everything would just be perfectly clean. Then after dinner we’d sit and talk, and maybe play a game. Then I’d go read in bed until I fell asleep. That would be a pretty much perfect day.
4. Amy said: In my interview, you asked me about future children. My question is the same for you. In an ideal world, how many children would you and your dh have and do you have any names picked out yet?
Ah, yes. I used to have this planned out. First, a boy. Then, two years later, another boy. Then, three years later, a girl. Then, two years later, another girl. Then, three years later, another boy. Then, two years later, another boy. Then, three years later, twin girls. See? Perfect. Eight kids, in pairs so that they all have playmates, with twins (girls because they’re more fun to dress alike) last so that the older kids could help with them, and boys first so that my daughters could have older brothers. Yes, I realize that I’d be having children for rather a long time, but I got married when I was nineteen, so I wasn’t worried about that. It was the perfect plan, but unfortunately, reality has gotten in the way.
I lean toward Celtic names; Michael leans toward whatever strikes his fancy. For the most part, I come up with names and he shoots them down. The only one he’s ever brought to the table is Cosette (from Les Miserables) which is clearly out of the question because people would call her Cosy. So the short answer (when do I ever give that?) is no, we don’t have any names picked out, but I’m not worried about that. Things will resolve themselves when the time comes.
5. Katie asked: Is there something that can make you smile uncontrollably no matter where you are or what you're doing?
Well, Michael can always make me smile if he tries, but I don’t know about uncontrollably. Seeing my family always makes me happy. Other than that, I’m not sure. Christmas? A margarita? Lots of things get me to smile, it’s this “uncontrollably” thing that is stumping me. I’ll keep thinking about it. I know there has to be something that does it.
6. She also asked: Do you have a moment in your life where you felt you were closest to God?
One moment? No. The thing about life is, if I’m living right then I am always growing closer to God. The goal is to be fully united with him, in Heaven, and every day the choices I make lead me toward that or away from it. And it’s not about feeling close to God, it’s about being close to God, about being obedient and a godly person. There have definitely been times when I’ve felt his presence deeply, and there have been times when I’ve had setbacks or simply felt that I was failing. But for the most part I simply know that this is a journey, and I know when I’m doing well at following his commandments and when I’m doing poorly. I am, of course, constantly failing, but that is why contrition and absolution are an important part of life. I love God with my whole heart and soul, and I do the best I can to serve him. How I feel at any particular moment doesn’t matter so much.
(Katie, please don’t think I’m eschewing your question – I think it’s a very good one, it’s just that answering it took me in a different direction than I expected. I hope you don’t mind!)
7. Alexandra asked: Who is your favourite fictional character? (And I don't necessarily mean the best written or the most virtuous, but the one or the ones you feel most affection for.)
First of all, Alexandra, way to be Canadian with the “u” in “favourite.” I love that! I’ve read so many British novels that I always have to edit my writing for British spelling; otherwise, I’ll end up with “favourite” and “colour” and “baptise.” Filled a whole theology paper with that last one before I realised (realized) it’s not standard American spelling. Thank heavens for Find and Replace.
Tangents… are good. Right?
Fictional characters: I love Betsy Ray and Anne Shirley. Betsy is from Maud Hart Lovelace’s Betsy-Tacy books, and Anne is (I hope everyone already knows this) from L.M. Montgomery’s series of which Anne of Green Gables is the first book. Betsy is romantic, and loves to write, and is very close to her family, and is silly as a girl, and marries her high school sweetheart. Anne is somewhat pig-headed and ridiculous in her teen years but then turns into a lovely adult. I have been and am a lot like the younger Betsy and Anne, and I hope to turn out like the elder Anne (I’m sure Betsy turns out well too, but the books don’t take her past the age I am now). Therefore, I love them, and hope to meet them someday.
8. Alexandra also asked: Who is your favourite character in The Lord of the Rings? Why?
Well, it seems like I should say Arwen, doesn’t it? But when it comes down to it, I really love Gandalf the most, because he reminds me of my dad.
9. Last one from Alexandra: Have any little episodes or interactions in the Gospels ever made you chuckle in church? If yes, which ones? (I mean this in a respectful way; one episode I find pretty funny, for instance, is the steward's comment at the wedding in Cana about how people usually serve the good wine first and the bad one later, when the guests have grown more, er, lubricated and less discerning.)
You know, this has happened to me quite recently, so it seems like this question should be easy. Therefore, I naturally cannot for the life of me remember the reading that made me laugh. But I definitely agree with you about the steward’s comment at Cana; that has always seemed humorous to me. I’ll think about this one too and see if I can remember what the passage was that cracked me up.
10. Ellen asked about my Myers-Briggs personality type.
According to the test she linked to (I cannot resist an online quiz!) I am an INFJ (which means Introverted-Intuitive-Feeling-Judging), with preference strengths of 56%, 50%, 75%, and 44% respectively. Not sure exactly what that's supposed to mean, but there you go.
11. Emz asked:
a. What was the last thing you ate? Some pineapple (fresh, we cut it up this morning).
b. Where was the last place you went out? The last place I went was the office of the lawyer who is hiring me as his assistant. I had lunch with him and we discussed the terms of his hiring me. He's a family friend, and this job just dropped into my lap - Hooray!
c. What kind of shoes are you wearing? Currently, no shoes. But in a little while, when Michael comes home and we go out to dinner (to celebrate my new job!) I will be wearing these:
d. Do you pray the rosary every day? No. The rosary is a wonderful prayer and I do pray it sometimes, but Michael and I say the Liturgy of the Hours together instead because we like it more.
e. What prayers do you say daily? I'm assuming this means formal prayer, not prayer journaling (which I do fairly often) or simply praying "God, help me!" (which I do very often). We do Evening Prayer together, and I try to say at least a Memorare and a prayer to St. Gerard every day.
f. Do you and Michael pray together? Yes.
g. How old is your youngest sibling? Tommy turned twelve in January. He's in seventh grade.
The interview questions are FINALLY finished.
Okay, wipe those looks of shock off your faces. I know you thought I would never actually write them, but I promised I would, and so I did. I am not to blame for your doubt. I told you about my procrastination problem. You should have trusted me.
But let me tell you, writing those interview questions? Was way harder than I thought it would be. The pressure to write good, interesting questions was intense. I was stressing about it. “And what if they don’t like my questions? And what if they think I’m stupid? I might lose all my readers!” I imagined that you would probably all meet in a chat room to make fun of me, and it would be like going back to the early days of my blog when no one read it, which would theoretically be fine because I love writing, and I write for myself, but the problem is I also love comments, and I have become addicted to them like they are some kind of drug, and now that I’ve had them I really don’t think I could give them up. I don’t want to lose you all! Then Carmen made her “no lettuce question, please” comment, and I was thrown into even more self-doubt. “I thought they wouldn’t like my questions and they don’t like my questions!!!!! Nooooo!!!!! I am going to lose all my Internet friends! Why did I ever play this stupid interview game?” (My inner dialogue is big on the italics and the exclamation points.) I almost gave up on writing the questions, I was so discouraged by the pressure. But then I realized that if I didn’t interview you I might make you mad and then you would say really bad things about me in those chat rooms, and the idea was just so heartbreaking that I gritted my teeth and wrote the questions. Now they’re up and I’m feeling a little relieved but mostly scared scared scared that you will just hate me and never come back and why GOOD HEAVENS WHY did I ever participate in that interview game? It will probably ruin my life!
Hahahaha. Clearly I am joking. I am neurotic, but I am not that neurotic.
(Or am I?)
Anyway, enjoy the interview questions. I hope you will, anyway. And if you’re thinking about asking me to interview you (because technically, I guess, the game is still open), then I would like you to reread the paragraph above, then gaze into your soul and ask yourself if you really want to do that to me. Do you? Do you? Dooooo youuuuuu?
I didn’t think so.
Moving on. I have decided to become one of those bloggers who has bought into the theory called Make Your Readers Do All Your Work For You. My dedication to this trend is clearly evidenced by my last thread (thank you for the thoughts on adoption; I found them very edifying; I promise that eventually a post about that will be forthcoming) and will continue until I arbitrarily decide that it must stop. That will probably be before November, but I am not making any promises.
No, really, when I was writing the interview questions I realized that it was a good way for me to find out things about people whose blogs I read, which means it’s also a good way for y’all to find out about me. So, go to town! In the comments section of this post, ask whatever questions you want, and I will answer them in my next post. It’ll be great fun for all of us – you’ll get to find out things you always wanted to know about me, and I’ll get stuff to write about without having to be creative and think of it myself.
(By the way, I will be completely heartbroken if no one asks me questions. So ASK! Ask ask ask! If you need incentive, just read this post over again and be reminded of how sad and pathetic I am.)
If guilting your readers into leaving comments is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.
First of all, I have an excuse. I couldn't blog from DC because I was using Michael's computer, and it would not let me into Typepad. Gaaaah. I tried, I promise. I am negligent and uncaring but I am not that negligent and uncaring.
There are about five people waiting to be interviewed, and I have been tagged by Kate to do a meme that actually looks interesting, and I have posts backing up in my brain, waiting to be written. But since I have just returned home, and am leaving tomorrow morning for Kentucky, I have no time to do these things now.
So I have hatched (read: blatantly stolen from other bloggers) an idea! Why do not you, dear readers, do my work for me while I am not here? It's brilliant, I feel.
Adoption has been a lot on my mind lately. I'll talk about why, and what it's doing to me, when I'm ready. For now, I'd love to hear from you, because I don't know many people who've adopted, and I'd like thoughts. Especially if any of you have adopted children yourselves, but even if you have relatives or friends who've adopted, please share stories. The most mundane details are of infinite interest to me. Even the bad details. Tell me everything adoption-related which you feel comfortable sharing. I will be very, very grateful.
My family has just left, and the house is quiet again. I am, of course, sad to see them go, but were they to stay forever things would be very crowded around here. Besides, one of the silver linings of childlessness is the time that Michael and I have alone together, and I definitely miss that when we have weekends as busy as this one has been.
The weather is beautiful, in the low seventies and sunny. The birds are twittering out of control. It was like this on Friday, for my college’s baccalaureate Mass and commencement. The choir sang a Palestrina missa brevis, and there were eight priests concelebrating with the bishop’s delegate (a monsignor somebody-or-other) – not a bad ratio considering there were only thirty-seven of us graduating. At the commencement ceremony each graduand knelt in front of the president, who pronounced the Latin words admitting us to our degrees while the dean of students put our hoods on us. When we stood up, we had turned from graduands to graduates.
I’ve been to commencement at the large university from which my husband graduated, and while I am by no means an unrelenting traditionalist, I have to admit that I thought our ceremony, with all its dignity, much superior to his. At his, half the people galloping across the stage after receiving their diplomas (fake, as the real ones were mailed later) had “HI MOM” written on their caps with masking tape, and the names being read could barely be heard above the chatter of the people in the audience, who were simply bored at having to listen to eight hundred names. (This was the commencement for the engineering college within the university. The commencement for the university at large was held in the stadium, and we spent the entire time trying to figure which of the faces within the sea was Michael’s. We never got it right.) (I know that it is simply impossible for a large school to have the kind of ceremony my school had; I guess I’m just saying that I’m glad I go to a small – all right, tiny – school that values tradition.)
I started out at that big university, you know. My little Catholic college is only about twenty minutes away from it, and I didn’t even know about it when I graduated from high school in 2000. But my little sister started there in the fall of 2002, and the first time I drove over to see her, I cried in the car on the way home, heartbroken that I’d missed out on the chance she was having. I’d started my junior year at university, and I ruled out transferring on the basis that it was impractical. I spent that fall in misery, unsatisfied with the education I was getting but seeing no alternative. Then one Sunday after Mass, I realized that I was being ridiculous and informed Michael that I intended to transfer, whether it made sense or not. He said fine. (I think it’s possible he knew all along what I should do, but wanted to leave the decision up to me.)
In the end, the decision to transfer to my tiny liberal arts college made more sense than most other decisions I’ve made in my life. I made some friends whom I still expect to have years from now. I spent five semesters there, and I am enormously enriched and intellectually fortified by the education I received. Hooray for learning to think thoroughly and systematically, for learning to examine evidence and seek truth in the way which humans were made to do. I can’t imagine being happier with any other sort of education.
Still, I can’t say I’m sorry to be done. I’d just gotten to the point where papers seemed like burdens, where with every exam I was counting how many I had left. It’s time for me to be a college graduate, to start learning on my own timeline, reading books because I want to read them and not because my professors assigned them, and writing about topics of my choosing instead of ten pages on the history of the nuptial blessing (just did that a couple weeks ago).
I’m glad to be graduated. For all those of you who asked, and those who wondered but didn’t ask, I’ve got no job right now. I’m planning to do temp work this summer, in between all the trips we’re taking. In the fall – who knows?
Michael’s going to DC on business this week, and I’m going down Monday through Wednesday (any DC residents who want to get together for lunch or coffee on Tuesday – email me!) and then going to Louisville, Kentucky on Thursday to see my uncle get his doctorate. I’ll be able to blog from DC, but not from Kentucky, so expect sparseness over the next week. I promise that the interview questions are still coming eventually!
This is the first and last chance I will have to do an entry today. I know I said I'd try to get the interview questions up today, but it's simply not possible. I spent the morning cleaning and the afternoon at commencement rehearsal, and in less than an hour my parents and four of my siblings are coming - oh wait! They just pulled in! They're coming for my Baccalaureate Mass and Commencement tomorrow, and will be staying the whole weekend. Our little house will be crowded, but it's going to be so much fun!
For those of you still waiting to be interviewed, I promise that I will get to the questions eventually. If you'd like to be interviewed, feel free to ask - since I've given myself no time limit, I'll interview all of you sometime before the end of time. That, I can promise.
They're inside now, so I'm going! Next time I post, I'll be a college graduate.
For those of you who are waiting for interviews:
My thesis is due tonight at midnight. Until then, I'll be working on it, and simply will not have time to write interview questions. I promise that I will post them sometime tomorrow. Sorry for the delay!
I was interviewed by Rob (see below for the rules of the game).
1. What are three things you enjoy about your marriage?
I enjoy that Michael and I have silly names for each other. I call him Noodle and he calls me Starfish. (Don’t ask where we got these, because I have no idea.) I also enjoy that sometimes, he gets confused and calls me by his name instead of by mine, and I have to remind him, “No, you’re Noodle. I’m Starfish.” It’s also hilarious when we use the names in front of my younger siblings, especially Katie and Tommy, because it drives them absolutely crazy.
I enjoy that when I’m feeling sad, Michael puts on his flannel pants that have fish printed on them and jumps around the room so that it looks like the school of fish is swimming. Never fails to make me laugh.
I enjoy that in spite of the fact that when we started dating he wasn’t even Christian, it’s Michael who reads the Catholic Answers website, listens to Catholic radio, and keeps me up to date on all the issues. As a theology major for whom apologetics is a hobby, I find it refreshing to have a break sometimes and let someone else do the intellectual work.
2. What's the perfect setting to enjoy a margarita?
Well, I love to go out with my husband, but quite honestly, I enjoy margaritas most of all when we’re drinking them with my parents. Sometimes we go out, or sometimes we stay in and Dad mixes a pitcher of margaritas while we play bridge. He uses my favorite tequila, but it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t – there’s something about being with my family that makes the good things in life seem even better.
3. In 25 words or less, what is the message you'd most like to get out to the world?
(As an extra, not part of the 25 words, I’d just like to point out that this is a very tough question. Almost impossibly tough. But I’ll give it my best shot.)
Sometimes the search feels aimless, but the truth you’re seeking is out there. Don’t be afraid to look in conventional places. Start by forgetting yourself.
(Twenty-five words exactly.)
4. Why turtles?
One year (I think I was 15) my mom put Beanie Babies in our Christmas stockings, and mine was a turtle. I named him Bishop, and became attached to him. My friends, especially the guys, loved to steal him, so I would be without him for long periods of time. My friends, especially the girls, started buying me replacements so I wouldn’t feel sad when the original was stolen, and pretty soon I had a nice collection. I don’t think I’ve ever bought a turtle for myself – everyone buys them for me. I have one made of Welsh coal, and one made of onyx, and several candles and lamps, including an oil lamp that Michael had a glass blower make for me. Turtles have a cute shape, and I like them. If you’re going to have a collection, turtles are a good collection to have.
5. When is the church at its best in faithfully presenting Christ's love to the world?
As Christians we are chastized by the world for acting as if we possess truth in a way that others do not. And yet, if the message of Christ isn’t absolutely true, then why are we Christians? I think a lot of people would say that the Church evangelizes most effectively when it gives a little on the issues and just shows love to people. But what exactly does that mean? It is not loving someone to hide the truth from him, especially when that truth could affect him eternally. Mother Teresa was a fierce and effective example of Christ’s love, and yet she never once relented about any of the Church’s teachings.
Ultimately, I’d say that we best present Christ to the world when we cling faithfully to his way. If we allow other concerns to distract us, then we are showing the world that other things are more important that the Truth that is, and comes from, Jesus Christ. And if we think other things are more important, how can we expect them not to think the same?
The Official Interview Game Rules
1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying "interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions - each person's will be different.
3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.