About 10 years into our relationship, my husband confessed he was first attracted to me because he thought I might be a Polynesian princess. Now princess isn't a word I would ever use to describe myself (or athletic, for that matter) but the wonderful smashing of cultural traditions that defined my childhood, I owe to my parents (a girl from Hong Kong and a boy from Tipperary, Ireland). They met in a pub in a bustling hamlet of England. My mom dumped her fiancé, my dad got hit over the head a few times by my strict Chinese grandmother, and six months later they were hitched.
We didn't stay in England long enough for me to pick up the accent I've always wanted and settled in a suburb of Southwestern Ontario named for England's capital instead (close enough, eh?).
For a long while, I wanted to be a physician (I have a high medical IQ) and told everyone who asked I'd be a paediatrician some day. I did all the right things and followed all the right steps to take me to that goal. Along the way, I surprised myself by leaving town, finding the perfect guy, and, finally, admitting (after two degrees) I wanted to write about health and medicine more than I wanted to practise them.
A giant leap of faith led me to a Journalism degree, during which I was told my voice was made for the radio. I chose print instead, because I adore the written word.
I worked as a health and science writer for several years, but with the arrival of each of my four children, my vision of success began to change.
So I left my desk job, commuter trains, and work clothes to begin a freelance career and found myself jumping heart-first into blogging. I make no apologies for flogging my blog with words like "joy" and "amazing" because I feel those things every day.
This space was once described as a cozy café: it's familiar and welcoming and the conversation is always good. I hope you feel at home here.
Contact me anytime at: firstname.lastname@example.org
Click here to view a porfolio of my published work.