Just when I thought I'd gouge my eyes out . . .

I finally figured out that the culprit for much of my angst was a pair of contact lenses that needed changing. It’s amazing how blinking less can be such a positive mood changer.

Little things indeed.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m still just as agitated as ever, but now there’s a simultaneous brightness in my eyes along with the scowl. Some might call this a cute handful or a feisty asset. Both seem like a valid description of me currently.

For example, I am still annoyed that the Husband sees a pile of his folded clean clothes on the bed (that I put there) and moves them to a chair instead of hanging them up. But then I remember that he did the dishes last night, so I must call it good, for now.

Then there’s that mystery stain on my shirt that looks like yellow crayon, but then I remember Bosco did tell me I was his favorite so . . . bygones be bygones.

And let’s not forget that Bubba has subjected me to the most heinous of diaper changes (his, not mine) this week, but he did cuddle with me for five whole minutes today without telling me to move, so now I can face one more diaper if need be. Plus he made me the loveliest imaginary sandwich I ever did see and he even remembered to hold the pickles. Can’t let that little nugget of thoughtfulness go unnoticed and unrewarded. He get’s extra ice cream tonight I think.

Then there’s the high probability that I broke my nose while sleeping last night (bad dream I guess) and it hurts to nasally inhale. But who really cares about that when there is cheesecake to be had? Exactly.

And I don’t even really feel the need to address this sore throat I’ve had for a week!

Let’s just hope this euphoria can last a few more days. I’m off to turn thirty-one this weekend. Wish me luck!

I just happen to have a picture of me putting in a contact lens. Is that weird? More like kismet I think.

A list of thoughts and internal monologue on a cold, snowy winter’s eve

In no particular order:

-I am in a funk

-All I want to do is sit on the couch, eat chocolate, and stalk people on the Internet. Some may call this depression. I call it hibernation.

-I need to start taking my age seriously. I guess this means cold cream and caftans? Bring it on.

-All I want for my birthday is a vacuum. Eureka I hate the one I have now! Of course Dyson is out since the Husband is turned off by the smugness of the British guy and his "revolutionary" ball design. I guess the Husbo just prefers fixed axles? I don’t think he has anything against Oreck though. Hey Oreck, can your people get in contact with my people (me)?

-Everyone needs to give Paula Dean a break y’all. No one gives Jay Leno a hard time for having his own late night talk show even though he probably shouldn't because he mumbles. P.S. Diabetus!

-What are the odds that when I was taking a shower a water droplet would land perfectly on a mole I have on my leg (creating a sort of magnifying illusion) and then stay there long enough for me to notice and think that the mole was suddenly twice the normal size and absolutely wonky? Yeah, definitely a scary couple of seconds.

-How is it that I’m nearly thirty-one and do not own a heating pad?

-Sometimes I find it hard to listen to classical music because it reminds me of Hannibal Lecter.

-Now is probably a good time to regret laying out in the sun lathered in baby oil, when I was a dumb teenager.

-I should also probably repent of pouring a packet of Kool-Aid mix into an obscene amount of sugar and just eating it straight up Pixie-Stix style . . . when I was a teenager.

-I, Redhead, made and ate a homemade sausage egg McMuffin everyday for the past four days. I am out-of-control pleased, and excited about the whole “homemade” part of that statement.

-I am currently weighing the pros and cons of Nair. The End.

A totally necessary picture of my tired eyeball, and a homemade Egg McMuffin.

Did you know flags are everywhere? EVERYWHERE!

We're in a lot of trouble around here, phonetically speaking. The English language is currently one large, nerve wracking landmine of !#$&@ and %*!&$.

You see, Bubba is on the brim of being able to say every word he will ever need to know to have a pleasant conversation. I can just feel it. Yes, we are indeed so proud.

But he does have a few hurdles to overcome. A few rough edges to smooth out.

Here's a break down of the problem(s):

1. 'g' is pronounced with a 'k' sound

2. some sounds are left out entirely, usually 'l' or 'r' sounds

3. 'p' is usually pronounced with a 'b' sound

4. the occasional flip flopping of sounds. The last becomes the first and vice versa.

5. The general inability to decipher precise vowel sounds. 'a', 'e', 'i', 'o', or 'u' normally sound like all five vowels are being said all together at once with a slight emphasis on the 'uhhh' sound.

This is of course not something I fret over, except with certain words.

FROG- problems 1, 2, and a little of 5

FLAG- again, problems 1, 2 and a little of 5

CHIP- combination of problems 3 and 4

And obviously there has to be a 6th problem as well: the word 'PICTURE' is lazily shortened to 'pitch' with the added problem of number 3.

But really how often does a two-year old find need to say any one of these red alert words, really?

Well, enough that we usually find ourselves praying to the heavens above that there are no flags or frogs or chips in sight while we are in a public place, which it turns out is basically asking for a miracle to occur every two minutes, sometimes every thirty seconds depending on the area (think patriotic city, full of ponds and Frito Lay lovers).

We were indeed blessed that Bosco only had one foul mouth issue and it lasted merely a day, be it one of the longer days of my life.

Insert some sort of Harry Potter or Shakespeare reference here.

I’m not really a doer or a believer in New Year’s resolutions. I’m just as likely to procrastinate on my goals in January as I am in October so why make a big guilty to-do about it.

And if there are life changes I need to make then surely I shouldn’t be saving them up for the start of a new year. I should resolve to tackle them right then and there, even if I am in the heated throes of July. This is all in theory of course. I’ll do a follow-up post when and if I take my own advice.

But I do have a sort of New Year’s ritual though, that I find really does do wonders for me all year long. January 1st (or somewhere’s in that general time period) is usually reserved for buying half-priced calendars. I find that it’s hardly ever a bad idea to know what day it is. And there’s something satisfying about turning the page at month’s end. Like a, “Hey, I made it.” And a, “How old am I again?” Really gets my serotonin level up you know?

Anyway, this year for "the office" I chose a lovely collection of Japanese woodblock prints, and in doing so had an unexpected confrontation with my inner self. I think it was just a coincidence that it happened in January though.

When I approached the young man at the check out counter, I told him I was ready to make a purchase and he said, “Are you sure?” Apparently he was a mind reader who loved to torture passersby. I paused and wondered if I should have gone with the Monet prints instead. I answered him briskly, “No I’m not sure. But I’m getting this one anyway.” Take that indecisiveness!

The cashier seemed disappointed in my choice. Perhaps he thought the Kittens in Teacups would have better suited me, but instead he changed the subject and commented on the music playing over the store’s speakers. At the precise time that I was subconsciously humming along in my head to the Frank Sinatra and probably even discreetly tapping my toe, he asked me, “How do you like this music? I sure didn’t pick it.” My antithesis! Placed right before me! I replied, “Oh, what would you pick instead?” sure that he would reply with something like Metallica. “Oh I don’t know. Probably the Eagles.”(???) Then he somehow segued into talking about France is a sarcastic tone and it took a mighty effort not to roll my eyes. But I was triumphant. Take that inability to act mature in tense situations!

As the Husband and I left the store, I let that eye roll fly. Then I told the Husband that I rather enjoyed the store’s music. He agreed. Take that fear of opposing views and being the odd one out! I also told him France was my dream vacation. The Husband remained silent on that one.

Like I said before, I don’t do New Year’s resolutions, but maybe the year 2012 is trying to hint at a few things that need a little attention. How else can I explain meeting my own real-life foil character?

P.S. Lest my mother think of me as an abomination, I like the Eagles just fine. But as calendar shopping music? Please.