Many journal writers refuse to do a biographical page, saying they don't know what to write, or that a few paragraphs can't begin to capture satisfactorily their essence. Some people just hate bios - don't read them, don't write them. Well, I like them.

My name is Carrie. I'm currently spending my days as full-time mom to first-grader Sam and preschooler Gabe and as housewife to husband Eric. Plop the whole gang of us into an old house in the Midwest, and you've got a super-duper recipe for the doldrums. I can already hear the clicks of mouse buttons as readers flee in anticipation of their own death by boredom.

Everybody's got a story, though, and the steps that shaped us and placed us can be even more important than who or what we are in the here and now.

One year ago, I weighed eighty-five pounds more than I do now, and I was nowhere near making any changes about that.
Four years ago, I was being uprooted and moved seven hours northwest, to a place where I knew nobody.
Five years ago, I was working as a music instructor at a community college, unaware that career plans would soon be derailed by an unexpected pregnancy and a job transfer out of state.
Seven years ago, I was winning a battle with infertility.
Nine years ago, I was a graduate student, learning and living for the music that was my core.
Eleven years ago, I was modeling nude for art students.
Thirteen years ago, I was making boat steering assemblies by day and addicted to on-line games by night.
Sixteen years ago, I was learning to wear a cheerful grin to hide the fact that I was a child of abuse.

Am I a typical Midwestern housewife? Perhaps we need a redefinition of "typical."

Earthmovers and Sandcastles refers to overkill. One day, before I began writing here, I was musing as I tried to teach myself how to use the software my then-employer sold; it was project management software, and I was having a hard time of it because I had no real "project" for which to use it. I thought of inventing a project, like cleaning my desk or scheduling my appointments, but the software is really geared for mammoth projects, like bridge construction.

When I contemplated the level of overkill this software represented for my purposes, the analogy of using earthmovers to build a sandcastle came to mind.

• I have one sibling, a younger brother.
• I was born and raised in Maryland.
• I often answer "West Virginia" when I'm asked where I'm from.
• I don't regret in the least having gotten two degrees in a subject that's not making me any money.
• My favorite paid job was as a children's librarian. Where else could I have gotten paid for reading picture books to little bitties?
• I am turning into my mother. That both elates me and terrifies me.
• The childhood abuse in my family runs generations deep. My main goal in life is to stop the cycle.
• It took us a year to conceive Sammy.
• Both my boys were born at home. Yes, it was planned that way.
• I play the flute, the piccolo, the piano, a little violin, a little horn and trumpet, a little percussion, and I sing.
• I sing contralto, and rather well.
• Before moving to Wisconsin while pregnant the second time, I hadn't been on an airplane since I was two years old.
• My husband has diabetes, and something used to make me worry about getting it myself at least once a week.
• I'm losing weight so I can stop worrying. (See my story here!)
• My only allergy is to animal dander.
• My only pets, ever (excluding the hermit crabs and fish), have been three guinea pigs that lived in fear of us.
• I grew up in a charismatic, "full Gospel," roll-around-in-the-aisles church.
• After a lengthy period of Anglican church-going, I've found myself a happy middle-ground.
• What else do you want to know?