The Slightly More Informal Bio
1978-1983: Born February 18, 1978. The blissful childhood years. Pigtails. French braids. Bunny rabbits. Warm, chocolate chip cookies. Blackberry picking. Saltwater sandals. Magical Christmases. Trips to Disneyland. Dress up. Swingsets. Bossing around younger siblings. Slip ‘n Slides and kiddie pools. Shenanigans.
1983-1988: The jelly bracelet and Keds years. Wrote first book, titled “A Tug Boat’s Dream.” Leggings with long sweaters and belts. Hypercolor T-shirts (remember those?). Pink boom boxes. Monarch butterflies. Norwegian dancing. Sleepovers. Cabbage Patch dolls. Lisa Frank stickers. Rollerskating at the rink. Little House on the Prairie. Experimental hairstyles, including feathered bangs and the poodle perm. Best friend moves away. Wishing on stars. First crushes. All details recorded in diary, read by little brother.
1988-1993: The hair-flipping years. Boys. Gap sale rack. Junior high angst. Rollerblading. Tennis. More bad hair. Survive California earthquake. Find a message in a bottle. Ate a lot of fettuccine alfredo. Move into new house. Braces. Babysitters Club. Italian sodas at the mall.
1993-1996: The band groupie years. Mohawked boyfriend. Heartbreak warfare. Cut hair short and dye platinum blond. Church camps. Boys. Private school. Grounded. Tennis. Mexico. Debate team. Green 1969 Volkswagen Beetle bought with babysitting money. Grounded. Nancy Drew. Safeway. Banana Boat suntan lotion. Starbucks. Daydreaming.
1996-2000: The college years. Journalism. Character-building. Deadlines. Expeditions to Canada. Three part-time jobs. Date football player, Calvin Klein underwear model/firefighter (!!!!). Summers in Alaska. First apartment in Seattle. IKEA. Stan Getz. Soul searching.
2000-2005: The busy years. Get married (finish a magazine deadline the night before wedding). Tahiti. Buy house. Remodel house. Become fanatical about gardening. Become doggie mama to Paisley the golden retriever who digs up prized garden. Go to a cooking class in Provence and spend two nights solo in Paris. Write a zillion magazine articles. Open a bottle of champagne when I see my name in O, The Oprah Magazine. Write first book. Do not sell first book (blessing in disguise). Beloved grandfather dies. Baby fever. Nesting.
2005-2012: The babies and books years. Buy another house. Remodel kitchen. Wash dishes in bathtub. Became a regular contributor to Glamour. First baby born. Colic. No sleep. Crying. Organic baby food. Balance. Magazines deadlines. Second baby arrives. Write new novel. Beloved grandma dies. Sign with literary agent. Sell novel at auction in U.S., and later in 14 countries. Sell second novel. Third baby arrives. Level of chaos in home explodes. Interview Gwyneth Paltrow (on the phone, while nursing a baby), Maya Angelou, and others. Sell third and fourth novels. Go on book tour. With a baby. Three boys under the age of six. Drink a lot of coffee, and sometimes wine. Dream of huge refrigerator and office with doors that lock. Write fifth novel, sixth and start plotting seventh. Take boys to Disneyland. Long runs. Big dreams. Health. New chapters.
2012-2018: Big changes. Tears. Relief. Forgiveness. I can do this. Become a bestseller (hello, Turkey, Poland, Norway, Russia!). Paris. Pick myself off the bathroom floor. Growing stronger. Remodel house, and my life. New book deals. New friends, and old. New love. Joy. Travel. Lots and lots of travel. Tulum. London. Oslo. Istanbul. Growing boys. Bury beloved golden retriever. Buy new house, all on my own. He proposes; I say yes. New happiness. New stories. Grateful.