I think, therefore I am ... what?

It's exhausting being me. And not in a good way. Not in the I-have-all-these-fabulous-things-to-do-and-places-to-go-and-body-parts-to-be-refurbished way. It's more in the I-am-going to-think-myself-to-death way.

I'm what you would call an over thinker. I over think everything. Including this blog post, probably. But that's besides the point. I spend so much of my time thinking and re-thinking, that I end up thinking myself into a corner; unable to move from the sheer thoughtiness of it all. Yes, I'm quite sure that is a word.

Take, for example, this one time Fred and I were driving somewhere. It was quite a drive, and I was unfamiliar with our surroundings. At some point in the trip I turned to him and asked, "are you driving me out to somewhere remote so you can kill me and dump my body?" Okay, I was totally joking when I asked him this, but the way my brain got to there was this:

"Hey, I don't recognize where we are... where did he say we were going again? I haven't seen another car in ages. It's pretty isolated out here. Lots of trees and wooded areas. You know, this would be a perfect place to take someone if you were going to get rid of a body. Fred's been pretty quiet, I wonder what he's thinking about. Ohhh look, a squirrel! Wait, maybe the reason he's being so quiet is because he's plotting my murder and he's trying to figure out the best spot to leave my body."

I think I have Mr. King to thank for thoughts like that swirling around my cranium.

I can blame my insomnia on my tendency to over think things. I lie awake at night dreaming up scenarios that could happen, and what I would do to get out of them. The other day I asked Fred if he ever thought about what he would do if our house caught fire one night.

His response? "Whatever would I do that for?" Fred doesn't really talk like that. Only when I recount a story in my head does his diction take on a much different sound. He also has a British accent and uses words like "fortnight". Anyway, my point is, I do think about these things.

Obviously, it would depend on where the fire broke out, and if it was blocking the stairway. I would, of course, run heroically into Elise's room, grab her from her crib, and open the window in her room. I would then use a bed sheet from the linen closet to scale my way down from her second story window, with her strapped to my back with another bed sheet. I guess I would have to throw Fred and the dog out the window first, since they are utterly incapable of planning an escape of their own.

If Fred and I were superheros, I would be Miss Meticulous and he would be Fly-By- The-Seat-Of-His-Pants-Man. I am the stick-in-the-mud to his flapping around like a paper kite. I usually slow us down with all my thinking, and Fred? Well, sometimes he doesn't slow down enough to think.

But somewhere in there we have found balance, and it works... for the most part. I always tell people that Fred's strengths are my weaknesses, and vice-versa. And we're the same where it matters. I could get all over-thinky about it, but for once, I think I'll leave it alone. I will say this, God really knew what He was doing when He gave me Fred.

I guess you could say that Fred completes me. No you can't... not without me vomiting all over you because that was so, so lame.

Talk about completely missing the point

Elise has never really taken a pacifier. Oh, we tried at first, mostly in an attempt to get her to stop crying. But she let us know very quickly (and loudly) that we could not shut her up so easily. So all pacifiers were put away, except, it seems, this one. I'm still not sure where she found it (and if I should be concerned about where it's been), but she came out of her room today quite pleased with herself.


If you can't tell by this picture, she has the pacifier in backwards. So close, Elise. And yet... so far away.

Our Fondue Fun-Do

Saturday night, in a very un-Joanne-like move, we hosted a fondue party for a bunch of friends. I say it was un-Joanne-like because those who know me very well, know I HATE entertaining. I think Martha Stewart needs to be banned from the airwaves. And locked up. Not for insider trading, but for giving people unrealistic ideas of what entertaining should look like. No, I WILL NOT fold your napkin so it looks like a swan. And nor will my entree be served looking like some modern art piece.

I don't know why, but the prospect of people coming over to my house makes me itchy. It's not all the work that goes into preparing your house, in a very perverse way I enjoy that. I think it's all the pressure of making sure the people have fun and enjoy themselves. Because we all know that I'm responsible for everything that ever happens, ever.

But our friends Johnny and Kellie were going to be in town, and she wanted to get a bunch of us together. And I love that girl and would seriously do almost anything for her. Including, apparently, having 10 people come and hang out in my house. So no one was more surprised than me to hear the word yes come out of my mouth when she asked.

You know, maybe I'm becoming more relaxed in my old age (or maybe it was the copious amount of wine in the fondue), but it wasn't that big of a deal. I actually ENJOYED it and didn't even go through any of that I'm-so-nervous-and-uptight-and-I-can't-sit-down-and-are-you-sure-you're-having-fun-do-you-need-anything pacing that I usually do during get-togethers at our house. You don't need to say it, I am well aware that I need therapy.

Getting ready for some fondue

Time to eat!

Yummy cheese fondue and Val's model-esqe hand


Elise diggin' Chris on the guitar (on a completely unrelated note, I am fully aware at how horribly my socks clash with my outfit... at least my feet were warm)


Yes, we had a chocolate fountain... jealous much?

Preston and Elise hanging out


Johnny? Whaddya mean Barq's has bite? Johnny? (Heh, I love that commercial!)

So thanks to Johnny & Kellie, Gina, Val & Chris, Jade & Michael, Preston, and Austin & Renate for good food, great fun, lots of laughs and friendship. I may even be up for doing this again in a year or two!

Daily Picture Reject #9

You call that a spoon? THIS is a spoon!*

*I debated on adding this footnote... surely people would recognize the above quote as an homage to the greatness that is Crocodile Dundee? If you didn't, go here. Now you know. You're welcome.

He made me cheesecake

Valentine's Day has never been a big deal to me. I really, really don't care about it. I just feel bad for the guys and all the pressure it puts on them to make their woman swoon. I'll probably get kicked out of the Girl's Club just for thinking such things, but that's okay. I stopped paying my membership dues a long time ago.

This year, Fred told me he wanted to cook me dinner on Valentine's, but the meal itself was going to be a surprise. This made me a little nervous... Fred is not what you'd call a cook. The only reasons he usually comes into the kitchen are to forage in the fridge for something already made, or to get to the garage. I give you exhibit A:

Very early on in our marriage, Fred decided one morning to make me breakfast in bed. So he went into the kitchen while I was still asleep, looked through the cupboards and found some pancake mix. He thought that it looked rather simple, so he whipped up the batter, and then read the directions to see how to cook them. He saw that there was an instruction to turn the temperature to 400 degrees, and when he looked around the kitchen, the only thing that had a temperature control was our oven. So he commenced to bake the pancakes in a 400 degree oven. If you ever make pancakes "Fred-Style", you need to bake them for about 30 minutes. Just as an FYI.

Fred learned two very important lessons that day. Number one; his wife hates breakfast in bed, and would never, ever eat where she sleeps. And number two; a chef he is not.

Which is okay, I don't really mind being Commander-in-Chief of the kitchen, although some days I'd rather saw my arm off with a rusty blade and beat myself over the head with it than try to figure out what to make for dinner. But I seem to have wandered off topic; back to my point.

So Fred went shopping, bought all the ingredients (taking Elise to the store with him to give me a break), brought me home a red rose (I hate bouquets of flowers; it seems like such a waste when they die), an Aero bar, and a sweet card that Elise had picked out. It had dogs on the front, 'nuff said.

I was not allowed to enter the kitchen as he turned it in to a maelstrom of pots, pans, knives, and other such cooking utensils. I was tempted to peek and watch the impending destruction of my kitchen, but he threatened me with a slotted spoon if I dared try. I can tell you this, it smelled amazing!

A few hours after he started I was presented with grilled rib-eye steak, steamed asparagus, and oven roasted garlic potatoes. He did a great job and even cleaned up the entire kitchen. There was supposed to be homemade cheesecake for dessert (as alluded to in the title), but he ran out of time. He did make it the next night, and I was blown away by his culinary skills. I'm starting to get a little suspicious that he actually CAN cook, and the "pancake debacle" from so many years ago was just to throw me off.

So I may be changing my opinion of Valentine's Day... if it gets me an incredible home cooked meal (that I didn't have to shop for/make/clean up), then I say bring on February 14th! Thanks Freddie, for being such a wonderful, thoughtful, skilled-in-the-kitchen husband.

In case you're wondering what I got him... Office Space on Blu-Ray. That I made him go pick-up. And no card. Which I didn't even remember that I hadn't gotten him a card until the next day.

Yeah, I know. I suck.

He Shoots, he... Touchdown!

If you were in a Mcdonalds, would you go up to the counter and try to order a Whopper? I mean, you're in a restaurant. And they serve burgers. Why not give it a try? But you wouldn't, because as hard as you try, you are not going to find a Whopper at a Mcdonalds.

Then why-oh-why do people insist on going to sporting events wearing jerseys of teams that aren't even playing? If you are at a hockey game where the Stars are playing the Canucks, then you really have two choices... A Dallas Stars jersey, or a Vancouver Canucks jersey. That's it. An old Minnesota Northstars jersey would be okay, and I'll even give a thumbs-up to a Team Canada (if one of the teams playing is indeed from Canada), or a Team U.S.A. jersey. But if you show up wearing a Wings jersey, then either you mixed up the date on your ticket, or you need to head north for a few hours and hang a right somewhere in Nebraska.

And don't get me started on people that wear jerseys from other sports. I saw a guy wearing an Eagles jersey at a Stars/Canucks game and I wanted to go up to him and let him know that in hockey there's this really cold stuff called ice, and... never mind, if you're dumb enough to wear a football jersey to a hockey game I might as well just save my breath.

I get what you're trying to do. By wearing a Texas Longhorns jersey (and yes, I saw these at the game on Friday), you're saying, "hey, I'm from Texas, and I support any and all Texas teams." But it makes you look stupid. Spend the $10 and buy yourself a Stars shirt if you choose to root for sub-par teams.

And Mr. Oklahoma Sooners Jersey? I'm not sure what you were trying to say at all.

The Good Old Hockey Game

Come on, everybody sing it with me... "The good old hockey game, is the best game you can name. And the best game you can name, is the good old hockey game." Ahh, you've got to love Stompin' Tom Conners. Anyway, onto the rest of my post.

Last night we took Elise to see the Vancouver Canucks (woo!) play the Stars (boo!). This was actually her third hockey game that she's been to (the other two were when she was 5 and 6 months old), but her first one where she was aware of her surroundings.

The game itself was not well played. Pretty sloppy, with a lot of miscues and errors by both teams, but it was so fun to watch Elise's face as she took it all in. I think her favourite part might have been the Zamboni. But she was well-behaved the entire time we were there, and had people gushing over how cute she was.

For me it was sad to see the Canucks without Trevor Linden. I guess most Canuck fans back home are used to not seeing #16 out there, but it was like there was a giant hole on the ice. For those who are unfamiliar with Trevor Linden, he was the heart and soul of the Canucks since he was drafted in '88 (not counting the three years that that jerk-off Mike Keenan traded him away). I can still remember how excited I was when I found out he was being traded back to the Canucks in 2001. He retired at the end of last season and was not only gifted player, but an amazing person who devoted a lot of time to charity work. Okay, hockey lesson over.

Unfortunately, the Canucks didn't win, mostly because the Stars goalie played decently for a change (usually he is pretty good, but he's had a rough season this year). Actually, since both teams kind of stunk it up, I think the refs deserved to win this one. Oh well, we'll get them next time when Luongo is in goal!

These are a few of my Favourite Things vs. Godzilla

Again, a reminder as to why I do these: I have opinions... lots of them. And when I find something I love... I mean really, almost-as-good-as-chocolate love, I feel compelled to shout about it from the rooftops. So I've decided to post about them every now and again. I receive no compensation from these things/website/places/people, but would gladly welcome whatever they would like to send my way. I like presents.

I don't have a lot of free time on my hands, but when I do (Elise is napping and I should be cleaning/starting dinner/laundry, but instead I'm wasting time on the Internet), I love to check out websites that make me laugh. And this one, well... oh my.

It's called "It's Lovely! I'll Take It!" and it chronicles the weird, the crazy, and the wild Real Estate listings that can be found on the Internet. The writer captions the pictures with wonderful, sarcastic humour, and even provides a link to the full listing... you know, just in case a house with blood-stained carpeting is right up your alley.

As I was reading through some older posts, I came across this one. Rarely do I actually laugh out loud, but I had tears running down my face. I think I may have even guffawed. I'm book-marking that post for when I'm having a bad day and am in desperate need of a laugh.

It's a Twister Auntie Em!

North Texas may be a boring place to live, but the weather can sure make things interesting in a heart beat. All day the weather people here have been seemingly on the brink of orgasm about the weather that was supposed to materialize tonight. I've learned to take these reports with a grain of salt; quite a few of these people get their knickers in a knot about nothing.

But as I watched the line of storms approach tonight, I thought, "this could be interesting". And suddenly out of nowhere, the tornado sirens sounded. And the weather guy was all a-quiver about possible rotation around the area we live in. Then our house was being pelted by rain, and the winds picked up shaking the whole house. And our power went out. At that point I might have peed my pants a little.

Thankfully it was over as quickly as it blew up. Our power came back on only minutes after it went out, and Elise slept through the whole thing.

I think I enjoyed this kind of stuff more before I had a kid and owned property. You know, grown-up stuff.

A nap! A nap! My kingdom for a nap!

It seems to me I've been rather quiet of late on this blog. Mostly because life with a toddler leaves very little down time to write. Especially when said toddler thinks that one one-hour nap a day is adequate. Today her nap was 45 minutes and I'm writing this as she brings me lotion, a nasal aspirator and other sundry items from her room.

Yes, today I am THAT Mom... ignoring her child so I can write on my blog. Actually, she seems quite pleased with her little game, and as long as she's not out of my line of vision for too long, or screaming, I'll indulge her. *Snicker*, give me my Mom of the year award now.

I am fresh off of a weekend from hell. Think a collective 4 hours sleep for both Friday and Saturday nights while tending to a child that is screaming during the night with sky-high blood sugar, and you'll get a glimpse of what my weekend was like. By Sunday I felt like running out into the street so I could get hit by a car, and taken to a hospital, where I could finally get some rest. I think my IQ lowers by a full 50 points when I'm tired.

Right now Elise is trying to give Seven some nose drops so she can use the aspirator on her. I think that's my cue to stop ignoring my child and go rescue my dog.

My Curly-Haired Little Girl

Poor Elise... it looks like she's inherited my schizophrenic hair. Most of the time I don't mind my hair, but there are days when it just can't decide if it's straight, curly, or somewhere in between. Elise was having a very curly day not too long ago and it was so cute I had to take a picture.

Why yes, I AM a dork!

When I brought Elise downstairs after her nap today, I turned on the TV since I was going to nurse her in a few minutes. It takes a few seconds for the picture and sound to turn on. So I went into the kitchen to check Elise's blood sugar, and all of a sudden, I started hearing voices. No, not in my head (at least, not this time), but from another part of my house!

"Oh my gosh, " I thought, "Someone is IN MY HOUSE!" I went into Momma Bear mode. I would knee him in the groin, while simultaneously cracking him on the noggin with a sauce pan, all the while protecting my daughter.

As I was forming this devious plan, I peaked around the corner, and that's when I figured out who the voice of the intruder belonged to.

It was Howie Mandel of Deal or No Deal. I had totally forgotten that I'd turned the TV on, and since it's on so rarely during the day, I didn't realize that's where the voice was coming from.

As the Blog header states, "Come on in, the senility is fine."