It’s A Beautiful Morning….to-do-dooh!

My friend JAF was telling me about waking up at 3:30 yesterday morning, despite sleep aids (I love euphemisms. I even love the word euphemism.)  I told her that I wake up any time between 3:30 and 5:30. It is just the time that my body wants to wake up. She had a hard time processing this information. Actually- I think she had a hard time processing the attitude. For her, waking up at 3:30 is a terrible event to be avoided at all costs-even with the use of sleep aids.

Once my mind starts humming there is no point in laying in bed. It  has been my defining trait and my curse. My brain will get stuck in loops of endless lists, forgotten items, imagined feelings and great ideas- thus, my profile: “I think too much.” I often wonder if the inside of other people’s heads looks like mine.

I was reading Smith Kaich Jones’ post on why she blogs. She talks about looking for a release from her anxiety through blogging. While she has always defined herself as an artist, she has discovered that she is really a writer. I connect with her journey, it feels like mine….. right down to the plague of anxieties.

Relief from my spinning head is a wonderful side benefit, but I have found that the exercise of writing is really an exercise in creativity. It hones the skill of communicating what is the shared human experience. I am not looking for accolades, but I love the feedback because it lets me know when I have touched a nerve- the shared feeling.

So, here it is, 3 AM. I have been up since 2. It’s a beautiful, quiet, lovely and thought provoking morning.

New Toy

Just checking out a new blog toy….. and inflicting it on all of you.

Tweet, Tweet

So I am trying to figure out twitter. I get how it works, but I just don't get it. Why would anyone want to keep up with my hourly activities? On a daily basis my life is pretty boring. If I start tweeting will it take all the mystery out of me? I mean really, if you get right down to it, doesn't my life look an awful lot like the photo to the left.... all dried twigs that need to be cleaned up and cellar windows that I forgot to close?

Would It Hurt You To Be Nice?

Photo of a bunch of NICE people. You might be thinking Charlie's Angels, but it is just me and my beautiful friends.

A high school English teacher told us to never use the word "nice" as it has become so overused as to be trite and non-descriptive. But it has also become a quality that catches people by surprise when it is encountered. How could it be trite AND surprising?

I found this post while surfing and thought.... hmmmm... niceness is something missing in our daily lives. I strive to be nice which is often a struggle. It requires putting other people's needs before your own. But I know that it is what makes me ultimately the happiest.... especially when it gets reciprocated.

Yesterday I was IM-ing with a friend. I was having a bad day. I ended my rant with "I am unloved and under appreciated." She shot right back with "I love you." It just made me smile and changed my mood immediately.

I am thinking that niceness is underrated.

OCD

I don't often indulge the tics, flaws & quirks of my brain. Otherwise I would be left walking back and forth between my car and the kitchen to see if I turned my coffee pot off.

I am sharing this personal obsession because I have found a fellow traveler in my father. He came to a party at my house a few weeks ago and stayed overnight. The next morning during conversation he approached the microwave to reheat his coffee. I had to help him because every control panel is different.

"How much time?"

Pause. Deep thought.

"I usually put it in for 44 seconds," I suggested- knowing that my question had initiated a chain reaction of questions in his head. Do you set it at Hi or Medium? Is it a powerful microwave? Will it make the coffee mug too hot to handle? In my family questions just cause the brain to retreat into further indecision. "Or how about 33?"

Then we both had to admit that choosing a microwave time amount is a big choice. It has to be the right number or the day is bound to go wrong. 30 seconds or one minute are not times that portent a good day. My father & I shared our favorite numbers. I often go for the doubles- 22, 33, 44, but recently I have been picking odd numbers- 47, 49, 1:27.

It is a relief to know that I am not such a weirdo after all. Or is it just my family?

Kitchen Magic

This photo is to convey to my boyfriend that in his absence I am both eating food that requires cooking and cleaning the pans afterwards.

My boyfriend is the world's best housekeeper- bar none. He knows every tip to make your world cleaner, safer & more efficient. He leaves Heloise in the dust.

One of his tips is to use the tin foil liner from the broiling pan to scrub the scunge off the rack.... so as to not scunge up the dish scrubby too much- sort of pre-scrub descunging.

His other big tip is to turn on the overhead light so that I can actually see what I am suppose to be cleaning. I am pretty sure that in the wild I would be dead within weeks.

Pretentious Enough For you?

I watched the Westminster Kennel Club Show. It holds the same, sick sway over me as ballroom dancing. What can I say?

I saw the PBGV (which I previously have intimated might be the key to my lovable mutt's background) entry and learned how to correctly say Petit Basset Griffon Vendeen. It has one more syllable than I thought.

Peh-TEET Bah-SAY Grif-ohn(say way high and in back of your palette) Von-DEE-on.

Kinda' makes you feel like a viscountess-hmmm?