I love a girl who...

Won a trip to Space Camp and survived on cereal the entire week she was there. Because she earned it and because she could.

Started the "Tickle Me Elmo" craze. Ask Rosie O'Donnell. There is proof.

Gets super excited when you sauté her an entire bunch of spinach with garlic, put slightly warm garbanzo beans on her salad, or bake her a sweet potato.

Sings perfectly (and adorably) all the French in Shelby Lynne's "Where I'm From."

Could probably mop the floor with me in a debate round even though I used to be awesome and once made a boy cry during cross examination. I'm leaving out the part about how he was fat because that's just insensitive.

Can pick out the perfect watermelon (even if she won't eat it) thanks to her first job at Parson's Produce.

Writes like it's what she was born to do.

Handed her resumé to Joss Whedon and some talking points later was laughing with him over it being her "prostitution resumé."
Joss Whedon, people.

Wished on a star for a Teddy Ruxpin when she was five. And that star failed her.

Curses eloquently. Usually.

Hates bunts. Loves baseball. She knows infinitely more about it than you. Don't discount her because she is in possession of a uterus and ovaries. She is not a pink cap; she never will be.

Looks totally cool while eating an apple.

Knows good television and will force me to watch it even when I don't believe her. ...Aaaaannnd then I do.

Can instantly tell me how many letters are in "bouillon" and "constellation" and "it'sdifferentwithus" without thinking twice.

Has a backbone. And more heart than you can understand. And passion. And the teeth to put all of that into action.

Gives me new reasons every day.

Is helping me to leave a legacy of "loving well."