Did you know ...

...I love to read. But the older I get, the harder it is to see the small print (don't suggest glasses, it's falling on deaf ears), and I find myself avoiding it lately. I'm always too tired, too busy, or too pre-occupied with other addictive reading (that goes without saying out here in blogger world, ahem...) But the sad truth is that we are book hoarders. We have exactly eight FULL bookshelves in our home and the books are stacked all over them. We purchase books - not music or DVD's. And there is nothing better for us than sitting our rears in a cozy seat at the big chain books places, or even the half price book stores, coffee in hand, for hours. We are gluttons for books. However, I seem to have lost sight of the point. You are supposed to read them, once you buy them. Hmmm...what to do...

...Anton and I have only one type of "child" at this point in our life. They are our two dogs and our elderly kitty. We have only one gear when it comes to our pets "utter abandon". We love them beyond tomorrow and back, we love them in between us on the bed at night time, we love them sitting at our feet as we watch TV, we love them running amok between our legs as we prepare dinner. We go on vacation and we bring someone in to stay with them at the house. We call daily to make sure they're ok. We worry and fret over their little bodies, and we kiss and hug them many, many times a day. It is possible at random points in the day to hear us singing made up songs to them about how great they are. We are utterly wrecked on our animals. It cannot be helped. There is nothing to be done for us...


...Hi, my name is Christie and I'm an addict. No, no - not drugs or alcohol - gosh no! My problem? Oh, it's nothing...really...I mean, that is to say, it's small. I think. I mean, it's just this little habit I have of checking blogger and my e-mail accounts repetitively throughout the day. How often? Well, I don't know...I've never counted. 76 times. At least. What?!? It's not that bad! I have it on the best authority that Sally Jones-Caldwell checks her e-mail and blog lines at least 84 times a day and that's not including when she's up late at night. Oh, I'm not supposed to compare? I'm just supposed to look at my own problem? But that would mean that it would have to be a problem to me, right?...gulp...

...that I have a little buddy who comes to my house at least once a week and whose name is Keira? She calls me "auntie christie" and I just stinking love her! She is two and just the funniest sweetest girl! The other day she asked me for "macatoni and cheese". Ha! When I went to get into my back-pack she said "yeah...Auntie Christie's pack-pack!" Now I'm going to indefinitely refer to it as my pack pack, just because it's dang cuter. She also shares my deep, deep addiction to the Backyardig@ns. And buddy, I mean...ADDICTION. We have a blast together, and it can't be a half bad deal for either of us: she's got her name on the wall and I'm logging in several hundred "mommy training" hours.




...that I prefer facials to massages. I'm a tender gal - I can't usually find someone willing to do the "shallow-tissue" massage. It's always gotta be the "deep tissue". Well, my tissue ain't deep. And dang it - it hurts when someone goes grinding into my shoulder. I don't like it. I'm laying there thinking of ways to absorb my body into the table just to avoid one more agonizing knuckle rub. Meanwhile, I love me a good ol' facial! Bring it on! My face is so fair, I usually come out looking literally "peachy and rosy". It's amazing how soft your face can get after one of these!

...that AB and I are idiots. I mean, we literally sit at home sometimes and just crack each other up. People make jokes that they imagine us sitting around laughing all the time - and that's not quite true. But dang it if we're not best friends and it's so hard to imagine my life without him. I can't even go there! Needless to say, we upped our insurance policies on each other recently......see, that's a joke. You're supposed to laugh there...because we are!

...that I'm a closet cleaner. No, no...not a closet cleaner...as in clothes and shoes and old games. A "closet" cleaner, as in I secretly love to clean. I know - it's like breaking the girl code...I might need to turn in my "wife" card for this. It's just that, even though I'm supposed to hate cleaning and loathe all that it entails - I'm a neat freak and an organizational junkie, and I just LOVE that high that I get strolling through my newly cleaned home and knowing that I'm "caught up". Sometimes the best thinking, rationalizing, idea making, and scheme building time that I have is when I'm elbow deep into cleaning my toilets. Sorry...sad but true.

...that AB and I get chided (playfully) by family and friends for being a little too "mushy". Ok, and here's the second part of the confession - I didn't really ever think that at seven years going on eight together that we would still be getting into trouble for being all "kissy kissy face" with each other. Seriously, to be honest - it's just a habit that you make and you stick to. It's not because we're disgustingly in love every second of the day. It's because we decide every day all over again to choose to love the other person, no matter what. It really helps with the hand-holding and smoochie smoochie when you know you're both in it to win it, 110%, no matter what. It also helps when you have a gushy mushy personality, ha!! Love you babe!

...that I have gray hair. And buddy, I mean gray like as in a cloudy over cast day. So I had to find a stylist who could understand my pain at being gray so young and do something about it at a moment's notice. Someone who would cover it all, and never tell a soul. Someone who would not miss spots and not allow streaks. Someone who would promise to tell me if it was "time to hit the bottle". So you don't have to wonder for another annoying "someone" sentence, my amazing colorist is AB. He really hits it out of the park every time. He's been doing this since we were dating. And I love the crap out of him for being willing, let alone for doing such a kickin job every time. Meanwhile, part two of this shpeal is that I am horrible about getting my hair cut. I take these little hair scissors and go at my bangs with "shear" gusto. (Oh that was pretty bad...) and I'm telling you - I haven't had the same person cut my hair in 17 years. I just go so rarely that there's always a new girl when I go back. I do envy those that get their hair "did" every few weeks, but it ain't happenin up in here. I can't get my butt to the gym, the salon, heck - the post office, let alone the stylist. I'm a mess and my split ends tell on me all the time.

...that this pretty little kitty is almost as old as my grandmother in people years. That I've had her in my life since she was a screaming 8 week old and since I was a screaming teenager. That she's got the reputation of royalty and has rightly earned the nickname "Her Royal Highness, The Queen, Chloe". That if I even begin to think about her not being around I go into emotional orbit. That if I am up and about and she's not roaming around my legs or close by, then something is terribly wrong. That if when we go to bed, she doesn't find a way to climb up and lay between our heads, it's not really "time for bed". That she has affectionately gone from little terror as a baby, to my constant and darling girl that I would rather saw a limb off than see her hurt or in pain. That has decidedly moved into Keira's nursery and has no idea this "princess" room was not made specifically for her. And last but not least, that has quite literally, tamed two sixty pound dogs into her loyal subjects. Now, that's what I call a true royal!


If you didn't know - you do now...

Cheers!