I was tagged by pancakes gone awry, and it's a good thing because I wanted to post but could not think of anything interesting to say. We've been cooped up in the house because of the rain and, no, I did not use that opportunity to make anything crafty or redecorate anything. Quite the opposite... we've been watching movies and playing xbox like nobody's business. I also made about 10 billion meatballs using a recipe from Fix, Freeze, Feast. Anyway, on to the tag:
Here are the Rules:
1. Link the person who tagged you.
2. Mention the rules on your blog.
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks you possess.
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them.
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged.
I love that you can talk about "unspectacular" quirks, because that's the only kind I've got.
The first one is a system that I follow in my head with regard to food. I think of it as "calorie credits", sort of like carbon credits only involving peanut m & ms and Havarti cheese instead of energy use and emissions. It's not an earth-shattering concept, but basically if I know there is, say, a freshly baked delicious butter cake on the counter then I will eat celery, string cheese, and Triscuits for dinner instead of whatever I made for the kids in order to offset the large piece of cake that I will surely be enjoying later. It's probably a pathology almost worthy of inclusion in the DSM IV, but whatever.
On to the next bit of weirdness! I hate the unabashed celebrity worship that goes on in our country but I have a morbid and embarrassing habit of watching TMZ with dh. There is a sick symbiosis between obnoxious celebrities and paparazzi (both of whom rely heavily on the other for job security) that I can't take my eyes off. I don't even know who about half the famous people are, but the bread and circus aspect is fascinating, to say nothing of the bizarre outfits and overlarge sunglasses.
I drink herb tea every night, sometimes with a piece of delicious cake as mentioned above, or just alone. Yes, even in the summer.
I don't drive on high freeway overpasses. This one for sure is in the DSM IV, under "acrophobia."
I hate it when people tell me about their dreams. The kids don't know this about me. Suffice to say that many a breakfast has occurred with long, detailed dream accounts with me nodding and gritting my teeth.
I also hate it when there is loud birthday singing in restaurants. Especially when that singing is directed at me and an old sombrero likely crawling with vermin is placed atop my head.
That's six! I hereby tag
lost and found
crying over spilt milk