ob·sess: Verb – Preoccupy or fill the mind of (someone) continually, intrusively, and to a troubling extent.
In honor of my website, named by my wonderful hubby, I thought I’d talk about some things that I am obsessive about. Some of you may be familiar with some of my quirkisms, and I’m sure others have the same or other intriguing things that would reveal some surprising things, should you care to share.
First things first. Coffee. I’m going to have to say that days just start out better with a steamy, wonderful cup of coffee upon waking up. I used to be seriously addicted to the International Delight creamers as well. I think they might secretly put crack in it, as I found that when we were traveling and our hosts did not have it, I got really cranky. Like super cranky, in a bad mood for the rest of the day cranky. I had even been known to bring it along with me lest I risk disappointment the next morn. The last several months I’ve been in the care of a wonderful eastern medicine guy who’s been treating me for allergies, whom I lovingly call the Shwamee doctor because he wears a turban. To my particular dismay, sugar and corn syrup was on the list of things that my body revolts to–along with wheat/gluten and soy. So, I cold turkeyed from that delicious, fake and sugary goodness that used to flavor my cup of coffee each morning. I have now happily adjusted to some good old fashioned full fat half and half with a teaspoon of cocoa and some honey. Thank god that coffee was not on the list of no no’s. There is seriously not much better than a rich, wonderful cup of coffee to start the day off right. I love the smell when it’s brewing. I love the warm, inviting feeling of the cup which my fingers are clasped around that is filled with a hot, tasty brew. I love the smooth, delicious taste of the beverage itself. And I have to say I must also like the caffeine boost that comes along with all the other bonuses.
I love doing my daily crossword puzzle. This every day ritual goes along with my morning coffee. I would probably consider myself a morning person as I am not particularly cranky when I wake up, but I definitely appreciate my quiet time in the morning. My kids are trained to leave mommy alone and let her have her “me” time in the morning, which I greatly appreciate. I don’t generally even do much talking, as a little quiet time and solitude seems to set the tone for the whole day for me. I do occasionally miss a day or two of my puzzle if some activity causes me to be out and about or in a rush in the morning, but if that happens, it is sorely missed, and I usually try to get to it later in the day if I can. I’ve been particularly pissed of late as I do my crossword at Washington Post.com and the Sunday puzzle has not been loading consistently for some reason. Now, that makes me crabby, not having my puzzle to work on, ESPECIALLY on a lazy Sunday, while I am sipping my mocha beverage.
Robe comes next–only because I wear that first thing. We call them robe-ies for some reason in our house. Don’t know why. I guess having little ones influenced me to add -ies to the end of lots of words. Milk-ie, jamm-ies, shoes-ies, blank-ies–why? Who the hell knows, just one of those goofy parenting things I fell into. I love my robe. Robe is good. I enjoy the soft and cozy comfort of my robe with my morning coffee, but also look forward to diving into it at the end of the day as well. Nothing is more welcoming at the end of a particularly long day than a a blazing hot shower, followed by my jamm-ies and my fluffy, welcoming robe-ie to envelop my spent old body.
I have a weird need for a vegetable, starch and meat for every dinner meal. Tom has poked fun of me for years for this one. I guess I somewhat picked it up from my mother as I don’t often recall a meal growing up that didn’t have your plate blessed with all three of those requirements. The plate just feels naked as far as I’m concerned without a nice veggie and side of potatoes/rice/pasta to round out whatever protein finds its way to the table each day. Tom recounts wonderful memories of french fry night or pancake night or even cereal night–to which our family has never had the privilege. Who knows, maybe some day when it’s hubby’s night to cook, maybe we’ll have the treat. But for me, it would feel almost sacrilegious.
I can’t sleep with socks on. Feet. Must. Be. Barefoot and unecumbered. I have no earthly idea why. But, I just can’t get comfortable unless my feet are footloose and fancy free. I can remember being little and sleeping in those footy pj’s that were fine for lounging about, but made me nuts when I was going to bed. I still wore them, but not having my feet open and free to breathe did not make me a particularly happy camper.
I have to brush my teeth and wash my face before I go to bed. No matter what. No matter how tired, or sleepy. I just can’t not do it. The thought of going to bed with a yucky, greasy face or with socks growing on my teeth would literally keep me awake at night. I often fall asleep on the sofa watching TV before actually going to bed, and even then, I couldn’t possibly get into my bed without my evening clean routine. It would just be wrong. And I’d be super stinky for sure.
Ok. Alright. I admit it. Facebook. I am a Facebook junkie. I love living vicariously through other peoples lives. I have to apologize for knowing intel about someone when I see them, explaining, ahh, yeah, I read it on your Facebook page. I love the ability to have contact with people I don’t see too often, be it long ago friends or relatives involved with their own families. I love sharing pictures. It’s great to see a joyous occasion like a new baby or a wedding and feel like you were there too. I love hearing what’s going on to inspire me to get out there and find something fun to do myself. I love playing lexulous. I’m a word-aholic and love scrabble, so having six games running simultaneously is a no brainer. I adore playing with my mom. She and I are about the same skill level so it’s a challenge, but I know at some point I’ll be beating her in the stats–and vice versa. I love that we can play our moves when we have time and can still enjoy the thrill of kicking her scrabble ass every now and then with a good 100 pointer.
Well, that’s the tip of the iceburg for now. I’m sure I have a host of other wacked out tendencies, but these are the biggies. So now you know a little about me. Deliver a fine cup of smooth and dreamy java to me first thing, and I’ll be your friend for the rest of the day.