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"She is
a perfect cabinet of
oddities."
-Charlotte
Brontë
{ book
yeti }
Happily hitched
'bookie' with an impossible last
name. Lives in a
little brick house full of books, tea,
journals, and various
anthropomorphized appliances. Student
of the Bible. Owned by
4 loveable indoor cats.
Medical Transcriptionist.
Bookbinder. Bespectacled writer,
reader, sometime-thinker. Struggles
with hermitic
tendencies and a general disdain for
human nature. Cat
fancier. Believes tea can cure all
ails. Book sniffer. Avid appreciator
of avocados. Coy. Freelance
writer and reviewer. Computer
Geek. Has a penchant for the
classics. Born on
Stardate: -346600.89. Easily
frustrated by crowds and bad music.
Churns out thought oddities whenever
possible. Is rarely
apologetic about her introverted,
perfectionist modus operandi, and
obsessive-compulsive bookworm
idiosyncrasies. Book and stationery
store skulker.Talks to
her cats (and oddly enough, admits to
it). Cheeky. Somewhat an introvert,
whatsome an extrovert.
Self-taught knitter and crocheter. Has
logged many hours up a tree as a
child, reading.
Infatuated with insightful words,
hopes of seeing more of Europe,
beaches, and worn pages containing
abstract thoughts.
Paints a little, sings
more. Dances when no one's looking.
Intrigued by stories of reaction with
no action.
Appreciates the little things in
life... like whales. Furthermore,
Autumn.
Cats...
Crumpets... Cadfael!
(Dwight
Shrute, you ain't got nothin' on
me!)
she…
Can't seem
to write about herself in the first
person in these things. Misses her
Mommy and Daddy, dearly. Blessed
to have found her Mr. Darcy. Possesses
a strange fascination for
fonts. Is caught
redesigning humor, occasionally. Has
a penchant for odd phrases. Falls down
a lot, apropos of nothing. Owns
a cellphone, doesn't use it, and finds
this amusing. Likes parentheses
(apparently). Could go months without
seeing another soul and not mind it.
Believes there is an applicable Far
Side comic for every and any occasion.
Often thinks about her mother’s late,
deformed but dignified, cat. Leaves
joke-telling to the pros. Doesn't
like her feet touched. Starts
letters and decides halfway through
who they're going to. Possesses the
innate ability to insert strange
accents in every day speech. Relates
too much to song lyrics or morose
stories about pets dying. Is a
professed, albeit graceful, klutz.
Can't watch animal movies. Collects
geeky glasses. Gets shivers when
rhapsodic. Sways and pumps fist to The
Carpenters. Adores the
utilization of weird and wonderful
words. Is hag-ridden
about spelling. Has the tendency to
utilize shameless 'Franglais'.
Frequently returns home with art
supplies. Is a staunch guard of
uniqueness and creative copyright.
Often fusses over her multitudinous
music collection and the lack of
reading time in the world. Occasionally
wears her hair in pigtails.
Can't contain her tears when visiting
animal shelters or during SPCA
commercials. Relates way too much with
the characters of Elizabeth Bennet,
Amélie Poulain, and Bathsheba
Everdeen. In her spare time, she
enjoys cream of wheat.
peeves…
People.
Entropy. Phones. Weak tea. Toast
sweat. Comparison. Greasy door knobs.
Refolding maps. American Football. Old
given-up towns. Doilies. Imperfection.
Earwigs. Humidity. Mullets. Heights.
Picture opts with no camera. Fashion
victims. Thoughts that can't be
captured by words. When people listen
to reply and not to understand.
Commercialism. Having to pick out
raisins from butter tarts or apple
pie. Itchy tags on the back of shirts.
Dogs that mooch. "Takers". Flatulence.
Dust. Divey diners and dingy
corridors. Crowds. The feeling of
newsprint. Those who
perpetually attempt to be a knock-off
version of someone else, rather than a
first-rate version of themselves. Hypochondriacs.
Clutter. Laziness. So-called "popular"
music. Flightiness and shock value.
Fashion victims. When people don't
respect 'personal space'. The smell of
worms after it rains. Men with
fingernails that are too long. Empty
debates. Superficiality. Certain
insects. Road vacuum trucks. The
bitter 'chemically' taste of celery.
Grubby hands. People who take
“seefood” literally. June bugs.
Miniature yappy mutts. Greed. Porous
things. Reality TV. Copy cats.
Confabulation during a good movie or
favourite song. Bad drivers. The
alphabet, when belched. Ignorance and
injustice. When people use their glass
eyes as marbles. Shopping. Murphy's
Law. Beans...and the effects of such,
thereafter.
ponders…
Fnord
and all it encompasses. PEZ. Languages
that she'll never learn. How
life often imitates Seinfeld episodes.
Gumby. Coincidences and
whimsical axioms. Mathematical beauty.
The truth that deep down, all of us
want to talk with an English accent.
Cytology. Creativity with purpose. How
people can still dress like it's the
80's. The mind of Einstein.
Black&white photos of
indistinguishable objects, unaware
faces, alleys and doorways. The
periodic table of elements. The deep
meaning of corduroy. Adventures of bus
drivers. Slow guitars and the quiet
sting of memory. Irony.
elated
by…
 Our Grand Creator. The
love of a good man. Strong black tea
with milk. Long
autumns and short snowy winters. Cute
colourful cardigans. Writing.
Simplicity.
Healthy but tasty cuisine. Others who
are comfortable in their own skin.
British humour. The
ocean. New books, old
books, and any books in between. Smart,
cheeky
cats. Styles
from the 1930/40s.
Chevre. Cozy cafés. Sepia
photography. Snowstorms. Discovering
new and scarcely known indie music. Fabuleux
destin d'Amélie Poulain. Mittens.
Nature. Mary Janes. Magnolias.
Fireplaces. Old stone buildings.
Grapefruit. Essential oils. A
nice dry cab. Window seats. Soft
cotton against my skin. Star
Wars, Star
Trek TNG, The
Office, and Frasier re-runs. Hearing a
favourite song unexpectedly in the
strangest place. Animals with big
eyelashes. Computers. Rocky Mountains.
Sweet winds. Art deco. Far Sides. Hot
baths. Snail mail. Thunder and
lightening storms. English murder
mysteries. Kayaking. Handmade soap.
Falling leaves. Feather pillows.
Euphemisms. Solitude.
Earl (grey, that is).
Thunder and lightning storms at night.
Refreshing
walks. M.C. Escher,
Johannes Vermeer, Rene Magritte and Edward
Hopper. Cloche hats. The lost art of
good one-on-one conversation. Sea
spray. Singing at high decibels while
driving. Eccentricity. Little cedar
cottages by the ocean. Siberian
Huskies. Pride & Prejudice (every
thousand times I've read it).
Documentaries about ancient
civilizations. Postcards. Really good
produce. My Thesaurus. Digestive
cookies. Monty Python. Dancing. Chai
tea. The feel of sand beneath my feet.
Stationery stores. Reading a book on a
rainy day...or any day, for that
matter. Cool crisp air. Libraries.
Lightly-falling snow and the memories
it evokes.
reads...
Ever so much, but
especially classic novels - especially
Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Alexander
Dumas, Thomas Hardy, Victor Hugo, Wilkie
Collins, Elizabeth Gaskell, Bronte
sisters, E.M. Forster, L.M. Montgomery,
Agatha Christie, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,
Victoria Holt... and many more.
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