Why the domain truthfully – were you a liar in a past life?
The number one thing people have said to me since I started blogging in 1998 is that they love my honesty. Both of my readers said it, I swear. A synonym for honest is truthful. The thesaurus is my friend.
How long have you been blogging?
Dude, you’re not listening. Math. Is. Hard. (Present year minus 1998 carry the two = a mind-blowing number. that will…blow your mind.)
Where are all those years worth of archives?
When I began my career as a teacher in the fall of 2004, I felt obligated to have a more honourable online persona and deleted my old entries (don’t worry, they’re printed and stored in a Rubbermaid) with the intention of starting anew. (Please employ a British accent when you say “anew.”)
I’ve read some of your entries, and your “online persona” isn’t all that “honourable.”
NOBODY IS PERFECT OKAY.
Why are you adding a ‘u’ where it doesn’t belong?
Well colour me honourable. I do believe my u-adding behaviour is an endeavour I favour. (Also, because I am Canadian, eh. And “belong” is relative.)
Why do you only have one really cute kid?
Because you try finishing up the last two years of a degree while simultaneously managing the demands of a tiny human and not having a physical reaction when someone (your husband and only-child haters) mentions spawning again even though you know it would be less wearisome, include mat-leaves, benefits, zero academic essays, and no practicums or group assignments. Besides, I pondered it so long my womb up and moved to New York. I’d never find it in a city like New York.
Is it true that you pumped breast milk between classes during your BEd?
Yeah. I had this little black case containing all necessary materials. My classmates knew what it was for, but for dignity’s sake I would announce that I was leaving to fix my makeup. Even though at the time I didn’t wear makeup. I would hide in a stall and try my best to muffle the inevitable slurping noises (from the pump, not me).
Did you really think I would want to know that?
No. But I should have earned a Girl Guide badge for my doggedness, and it’s kinda fun to show off.
What do you mean you didn’t wear makeup?
Oh I was faithful to the blue eye-liner and pale, pink lipstick of the 80s, but after graduating I looked in the mirror one day and impulsively decided—enough! I didn’t have a clue what I was doing with those little sponge brushes. And how much blush IS too much and is a little on your chin over the top?
No-makeup me lasted 16 years until I was on stress leave at 35 and stumbled upon Youtube’s Makeup Guru tutorials. Good god–it’s like art on your face! A REASON TO LIVE. I’m hooked and have a few silly videos of my own and an embarrassingly large collection. I could do up an army or two of clowns, apply my makeup for my remaining days, and still bequeath gobs of it to my grandchildren’s children. It’s really that bad. OR WONDERFULLY AMAZING.
Why do you no longer consider yourself a Christian?
I guess I just got tired of being friends with someone who never showed up. It was exhausting and disheartening. Like having a friend who never shares even though you’ve laid out your entire life for them. It started to feel one-sided and stale. I tell people I’m test-driving a life without God and all the guilt I took on for not being who I thought I should be as a Christian. I consider myself a freethinker, a humanitarian, centered in love. I don’t think you need Jesus to give and receive love. To act in love. If someday Dude shows up and tells me otherwise, maybe I’ll change my mind. But, until then, this feels kind of great.
Why do you hate flowers?
It’s kinda weird that you know I hate flowers. Wait, I don’t HATE flowers. I love flowers. BUT DON’T EVER GIVE ME FLOWERS OKAY BECAUSE I HATE CUT FLOWERS.
I mean, I like YOUR cut flowers, but I don’t want any. They’re expensive and they shed and die and shed some more and I forget to tend to them and they start to stink and it makes me feel sad you wasted your money on something that died and I didn’t even get to use it. Like, on my face or something. Like lipstick or eyeshadow or blush or CRACKER CRISPS ANYTHING BUT FLOWERS. I don’t want flowers. I really, really don’t want flowers. But I don’t hate flowers. I don’t. But please, keep your flowers away from me.
Who built and designed truthfully dot ca?
My hot husband who makes a living being a major geek. He’s brilliant and I don’t understand 60% of what he says. I intermittently punctuate conversation with words like “drupal,” “CSS, “Node,” “Div,” and “Href” to keep him from catching on. I’m kidding. I actually had to ask him for those words. My primary tactic is to tune him out.