I binge-watched a lot of British period dramas over my holiday break. I should probably be embarrassed by how much time I spent tucked in bed with a cup of hot coffee on my nightstand and the iPad balanced on my knees, but I am not. It is still 2020 after all.

I do not know if gentility still has this inducement in the present day, but a characteristic of the noble class long ago seemed to be conversational preparedness. They smiled with alacrity and poise and asked charming thoughtful questions. They adroitly put others at ease with their natural flowing banter. I am envious.

I, personally, have none of that jaunty nature. I am a bit socially awkward unless I have ample warning and my brain is working double time. I am not a fish in water meeting people. No, I am fish on land flopping and jolting with imprecise responses or longwinded explanations for why something is so. I always feel like I need to tell the whole damn backstory to just to say, “Yes, I am fine today.”

As a true self-conscious person, I explained all of that just to help you see that I am not sure where to start or how to truly introduce myself. Part of me assumes I should start at birth and walk you autobiographically through every moment. Wisdom has prevailed and I will avoid that for all our sakes.

My name is Jiorgia which is pronounced Georgia. I turned 40 in this year of isolation and dashed plans. My hope was to run away on an excursion with my husband of nearly 20 years, but it was not to be. I am the mother of quite a few children, there are four of them in fact. They are all mine, biologically speaking. At times they are pure magic; in between those lovely moments they are a crazy horde of cereal-eating beasts who fight over everything (which is precisely when I do not claim them as my own).

I studied English in college and became a teacher, a very sensible and prudent life choice. I taught 7th graders to write and then lazily took up the pen myself to blog about our adventures in rural Alaska. It wasn’t until I curated my daughter’s CaringBridge while she was in treatment for Leukemia that I entertained a desire to write professionally. It has taken many years for me to cinch my belt resolutely and march myself down this road. I have never been so nervous and determined all at once. Here we go, folks.