Life as a Moose

I guess this is the proverbial "about me" first post as I dive into the blogosphere, so it makes sense to start with the whole Moose business. First and foremost, I hope that when you meet me you'll be surprised that this is my nickname. I mean really, how many women hope that they personify such a moniker? Yeah. Exactly.

But I've been Moose for as long as I can remember thanks to a very persistent (and loud) older brother. The back story is long and not all that interesting, but the gist is that when I was about 11 my older brother started calling me Moose and it stuck. High school friends call me Moose. Sorority sisters call me Moose. And there was no way I was getting out of "Aunt Moose". There's even a very obnoxious "moose call" involved--though I'm happy to say that doesn't get unleashed too often. It's the kind of stuck that really doesn't get un-stuck.

And so you embrace it.

As I start of this I'm 8 days shy of my 36th birthday. I won't even begin to go there right now. That is most certainly it's own little rant, er, post. I'm footloose and fancy free (read: single, no kiddos), with a great job and an even better circle of friends. I have a big ole (Southern) extended family that I'm sure will provide a lot of material to write about and I love them a lot.

So that's the story. I'm diving in...jump in with me and let's have some fun!