i’m a risk-taker
I know that people think I’m uptight, and in keeping with my neurotic tendencies, I felt the need to reflect on this…
Do people think I’m uptight because I can’t handle loud noise, I prefer the conservative nature of the East Coast, and I like my kid to be sitting still at a restaurant instead of running around driving other patrons crazy?
Do people think I’m uptight because I prefer to eat at certain, pre-determined times of the day, I don’t like to snack, and I feel compelled to exercise in 15-minute intervals (e.g. I’d rather die than get off the treadmill after only 27 minutes)?
Maya used sticky sticks to do this on the living room wall. For a change I shut down my uptight tendencies and appreciated her artwork instead. I made it a whole 2 weeks before I crumbled.
Maybe they think I’m uptight because I don’t drink, I can barely handle a cup of decaf, and I’m very particular about…well, just about everything.
Okay, so maybe I’m a bit uptight. But I’ve been working on this for a while now and I feel like I’m making progress! Just yesterday I not only ate non-organic grapes and what was likely farmed shrimp from Vietnam, but I also had lunch at 1:23 pm and walked across the street on a solid red hand.
If that isn’t progress I don’t know what is.
the formula
After 11 years of marriage Ali and I have our Friday nights down to a science:
- He opens up the DirecTV app.
- We scan the list of movies.
- We discuss why we shouldn’t watch each one.
- We reluctantly agree on one.
- Ali declares it’s 8:30 pm and thus it’s too late to start a movie.
- We both sigh with relief that the charade is over.
- I pull out a book and turn on HGTV for background noise.
- Ali surrounds himself with his laptop/iPhone/iPad/Blackberry.
- I fall asleep at 9:30 pm, a half-eaten bag of chocolate chips by my side.
- Ali wakes me up and tells me to go to bed.
I know you want to feel sorry for me, but please don’t because the formula works. Or it does until Ali tries to mess with the formula, which he did after a rare dinner out this past Friday night.
Ali: “Do you want to walk into the Microsoft store?”
Me: “No.”
Ali: “Why not?”
Me: “Do you really have to ask that?”
Ali: “This is my business you know. This is what I DO. You need to understand it.”
Seeing as “supportive” is my middle name, I grabbed Maya’s hand and we dragged each other into the empty Microsoft store where we looked at things like laptops. And tablets. And loads of cardboard software boxes.
Me: “My God, I just want to be on the couch with my chocolate chips. Can you tell me why we’re here on a Friday night looking at duplicates of everything we already have lying around our living room?”
Ali: {silence}
The moral of the story is: I’m always right. And the formula should not be messed with. And did I mention I’m always right?
i “like” to be liked.
Sometimes I sit around and think of witty things to put on my Facebook page – simply because seeing someone “like” something I wrote kind of makes my day.
What? You think that’s sad? Hmmm.
You mean you don’t love it when people “like” the fact that you just checked into California Pizza Kitchen or Bloomingdale’s or Best Buy? (Naturally this would be Ali).
You don’t feel special when they comment on the fact that you ate a Carmelized Peach Salad or bought some jeans or purchased a new adapter for your iPad2? (Ali. Again).
You don’t feel like a million bucks when someone compliments your new profile picture or gives your clever status update the thumbs up? Or what about when it’s your birthday and your wall is so full of happy birthday wishes that you literally “feel the love?”
I love it when my husband publicizes what a dedicated wife I am for all of Facebook to see.
Alright then, maybe it’s just me. Maybe my carefully cultivated Facebook page and I are in need of a social-media intervention, the same way my husband needs a Best Buy-intervention. Maybe. Or maybe not?
All I can say is getting my kicks from the 10-15 minutes I spend on Facebook every day is cheaper and more efficient than paying a shrink to tell me I’m a fabulous human being.
So please feel free to like/comment/retweet/share away. And I’ll do the same for you.
While I'm not going to win Mother/Wife of the Year Award anytime soon, I haven't killed anyone yet or shot myself in the head. And that, my friends, is how I calculate success these days. 
FANCY THAT FANCY THIS 