Sunday Confessions

I guess I sorta lied. Only, not really. Technically, it was not so much a lie as it was a rethinking. The announcement I said would come today will come tomorrow instead. I think that makes more sense. Hopefully you'll see what I mean tomorrow.

Also, I'm not feeling so guilty anymore about not joining the husband on his trip. He had miserable flights on Friday, arriving over an hour late after spending a ridiculous amount of time on the runway in Philly. The weather has been horrible (though looks better today) and only about half of what he's been doing sounds of any interest to me. Meanwhile, I had a relaxing morning yesterday, went to the gym, had an amazing massage, and then a nice evening at home. I plan to spend today in a similar manner.

And I guess while I'm confessing, I might as well admit that I had a pretty decent week. I'm still not sleeping. More non-results from the doctor. Even had a migraine on Thursday. But I accomplished a lot and only fell asleep at my desk once or twice. Let's try to keep the momentum into next week.

Quick confession

Ok, I'm gonna make this quick because I'm a bit under the influence going to watch a movie with TADA!!!! SuperJoe!!! Also, you may want to just skip this blog today.

Here goes.

I have a confession to make. Today (erm, Saturday), I sold my soul to the devil struck a deal with myself that may or may not be in my best interest. But, really who's to say?

Here's the dealio. We went for massages at Massage Envy. And I talked Joe into signing us up for the membership which entitles me to monthly massage goodness. The trade-off (not that he mentioned this or that it was even brought up) is that I'm not going to reinstate my gym membership.

See, the gym is supposedly running great deals which they won't tell you the details about until you show up in person. Because they think I'll be all "wow, they're in my face, how can I refuse?" when really, I'm fine with saying "gimme for this much or I walk!" So the deal is happening this Monday/Tuesday and I was going to go but now I think I can't justify both so I'm happy to have the massage.

Probably the gym membership is more beneficial because I'm currently a total blubber butt trying to lose weight. But, then, last month I spent $20 on Gold's Gym for the Wii. And then about a week ago I spent $60 for EA Active for the Wii. Today, I spent another $30 to buy a wireless nunchuck for the Wii because I'm tired of strangling myself during shoulder presses. EA Active I'm confident is worthwhile and may get results. And more importantly, I need to quit eating, which the gym isn't going to help with anyways.

(A quick aside - EA Active is WAY more intense and all-around workout that Gold's Gym. Lots of attacking specific muscles, plus cardio, plus some fun. It reminds me a lot more of working out with my trainer at the gym. Also, it's nicer than the original WiiFit. Though it took me several workouts to realize it was telling me "nice cadence" instead of "nice cans". Kinda disappointing, actually. I happen to think my cans are amazing!)

Really, is the gym more beneficial than the massage? The gym can work out some frustration and anger. But the massages can help with my anxiety, my headaches, my TMJ...

Maybe I made the wrong choice. (Convince me and I'll tell my sugar daddy Joe I need both and I'll just sell a kidney to afford it.)

But so yeah, that's my confession for today. Weak. That's also my post for today. Weak.

Know what's not weak? Looking forward to monthly massages. BOOYAH.

Reflections on the Fourth

Since yesterday's post was consumed with Six Word Saturday, I thought I'd take a few minutes today to talk about what the Fourth of July means to me.

July 4th means two things to me: picnics and Go USA! birthdays and boys. Yeah, turns out this is a bit of a Sunday Confession.

First, the birthdays. My little brother, Rob, was born on July 4th. As such, of course he thought the big picnics and fireworks were for him. Eventually, he realized that it was odd the rest of us didn't receive such large celebrations. Truthfully, it was fun for me to make the day all about Rob. Even though I haven't spent his birthday with him in years, part of me still feels that the festivities are celebrating him.

Not to be forgotten, the 4th is also about boys. Specifically, fireworks are about boys. On one occasion (I think I was 15), I was invited to go see fireworks with the family of a guy that liked me. I liked him too but he was insanely shy. Short version is that I ended up making out with another guy throughout the evening. Looking back, probably this was poor form. But this other guy was someone I had liked forEVER (c'mon, you were 15 once!) and never thought I'd have a chance with so of course I was gonna go there when opportunity knocked!

And most notably, it was just before attending fireworks with Joe that he proposed for the first time. I say "for the first time" because we were so young, so new together, and he had no ring. We decided to be sort of pre-engaged or something and then he proposed for realz a year or so later, ring in hand all proper-like.

I should mention that it's not that I don't value and appreciate the freedoms are traditionally celebrated on this holiday. It's just that a lot of the politics have really disillusioned me. I liken it to organized religion vs. spirituality. I'm all about spirituality but most churches (and the politics there-in) turn me off. I'm all about my freedoms and the people who have served to ensure them - but the politics make it hard to rally behind The Big Day. Also, anything overly manipulative emotionally (*cough*Lee Greenwood*cough*) aggravates me. I'm also a big fan of "nothing wrong with having a special day but there are another 364 days you should remember the feeling as well". So perhaps that's part of why Independence Day isn't overly red, white and blue for me.

Whatever the Fourth of July means to you, I hope you had a good one.

I'm so behind...

I have a confession to make... I'm way behind here in bloggyland.

My reader is screaming at me with unread posts.

I haven't visited hardly any of your Six Word Saturday entries.

Pre-writing my entries the night before? Practically unheard of this past week.

I'm also way behind outside of the interwebz. Chores around the house mostly. Little things that haven't been done and make me feel sorta crazier than usual.

My goal is to be caught up today. We're planning a nice day full of downtime. I'll do some catching up on house chores (yuck but I feel better when my house is in order) and blog "stuff" (yay because that's fun).

If I can just get caught up on some basics, I'll feel better about tackling new projects. Universe back in order, plans to put in motion. And since I posted about it here, I expect you all to hold me accountable and punch me in the face if I don't do it.

Good stuff around the corner. Just need to get there.

P.S. - Yeah, I realize that's not much of a post. Definitely a "discipline" day.

Sunday Confession: Zzzzzz

I have a confession. I am not a morning person.

It's not that I'm necessarily grumpy or snappy. It's just that I'm wandering around in my own little world while I try to wake up. You may speak to me, but please don't expect an intelligent answer or recollection later in the day.

During the week, this usually works for me. Sometimes I wake up, shower, and find I've been at my desk for an hour before I truly gain consciousness. Since my job is very quiet, this is ok.

Oddly enough, I have more trouble on the weekends. Yesterday, I was able to sleep in and relax. Great, though I probably did a bit too much of that. Around 4pm, I freaked out that I hadn't accomplished anything and went a little nuts reorganizing kitchen cabinets. Then I also needed to workout and be ready to leave the house by 7pm for a show.

Last night, I didn't do a whole lot of that sleeping thing. We went to bed around 12:30am and I ended up "sleeping" on the sofa because I was coughing. I put sleeping in quotes because it's hard for me to sleep sitting up. It was more like dozing. Joe was up at 5am so he could run a half-marathon (in the rain).

And this is where my "not a morning person" is weighing on me. Let's compare morning accomplishments:

• Joe: Joe's a morning person. At this point, he's already been running for 90 minutes. He's about done with thirteen miles.
• Me (planned): Workout, vacuum house, clean kitchen, prepare grocery list.
• Me (actual): I crawled out of bed about an hour ago, dragged myself (and my trusty laptop) to the living room, and I'm watching Food Network.

I'd cut myself some slack if I was instead a night person, finding my productivity while the rest of the world turns in for the evening. Nope, by 8pm, I'm about finished. 10am - 1pm is probably my productive time.

I'm not sure why I'm sharing this. I think people tend to confess when they're feeling guilty. This morning, I'm definitely feeling guilty. The overcast skies aren't helping to inspire me. What am I going to do about it? Maybe at 9am I'll consider some WiiFit action. Or a nap.

Sunday Confession: Happy Mother's Day

I have a confession... I'm not that into Mother's Day. I, myself, am not a mother (that should be abundantly clear from posts earlier this week). My relationship with my own mother is cautious at best.

Instead, I'm going to give a shout out and send my love to all the fantastic mothers out there. I've met so many of you since I started blogging last Fall. And a special thought to anyone who is experiencing a Mother's Day without their beloved mothers. Or their precious children.

So many of you seriously rock. You give me hope that I could possibly do the "mother" thing some day.

In the meantime, here's wishing you a "surprise" breakfast of burnt toast and coffee with grounds floating on the top, wilted flowers and hand-drawn cards featuring flowers and disproportionate representations of your family. Because, really, I think that's sorta what it's all about! And sorry but I decided the best gift from me would be to not make you a Mother's Day card - because it seemed kinda rude to be punching anyone in the face today. Except maybe SisterFriend because it seems she wants a fight.

Me, I'm "celebrating" by being out of town (so expect late responses). Except the place we're going says "Bring Mom to undisclosed location for free admission on Mother's Day. Adult or youth ticket purchase required." My thinking about that went something like this:

Damn, it's gonna be busy there on Sunday.

Wait, how do you prove you're a mom? I want to get in free!

I guess we could just say we left the kid at home. I bet a lot of people do that!

Huh, isn't that completely bizarre for people to celebrate Mother's Day or Father's Day by escaping from their kids? Though probably not an uncommon desire.

Think I'll just do the right thing and pay for my admission.

Your turn

I have a confession... I don't want to write this post.

This makes me feel bad because I'm pretty sure I've been phoning it in most of the week. But it's almost midnight, I've spent 10+ hours helping Joe with taxes, and I'm fried. Also, I accomplished a lot yesterday and there's a lot on my Sunday list as well.

In addition, I told myself that I'd write my Saturday and Sunday posts during the week and obviously I failed at that this week since I took Friday off.

So how about you all confess something instead? Not too big of a request, just in the comments.

When's the last time you phoned in a blog post? Or took the lazy way out of something? Or kicked a puppy?

A very happy un-birthday

I have a confession... I really dislike birthdays. I'm not at all against other people celebrating birthdays, I'm just not really a big fan of my own.

I'm also not a big fan of surprises. Thankfully, Joe realizes that the surest way to earn a night on the sofa would be to kindly and lovingly plan a surprise party for me. Being the center of attention isn't something I'm particularly comfortable with.

It hasn't always been like this. I remember two childhood birthdays that were fun. The first was in kindergarten. A bunch of classmates went to McDonald's and then back to my house for games and cake. We flew our McDonald's kites in the field next to our house - mine had that stupid Birdie the Early Bird (what kind of lame name is that?) - and then Max Johns climbed on my bedspread with dirty shoes.

Another winner of a party was fifth grade. My mother told me I could invite "some friends" after school on Friday for pizza and then three could spend the night. All was well until that morning when she had to write out the little permission slip allowing these girls to come home with me. I had invited around twenty girls. I think she was planning for more like six. We had fun but of course with that many of us we staged a big dramatic argument (like girls that age are apt to do) and it all ended in a bloodbath crying. But no crying by me, so awesome.

That's the last party I really remember. I guess they'd had enough after that. Mostly what I remember of birthdays involved really lame gifts, not that this is unique to birthdays. It also applies to Christmas, weddings and graduations as well but I'll save that for another post. On my 16th birthday, I passed out in gym class. I arrived home that night after choir practice to find my family had already eaten dinner and my gifts were left on the table - a packet of Garfield stickers and a sweatshirt with dancing bears. In college, they mailed me a card with a check for $30 for "birthday, deodorant, shoes and things".

And on my most recent birthday, my mother emailed me that "I am not sure what we are doing tonight but if I remember we will call you." Hope it wasn't too much effort! The rest of my family (brother, sister, and grandmother) didn't acknowledge it at all. Nor did any co-workers. Or a couple of friends I kinda thought might remember. And what do you say to that when you'd really rather forget it yourself? "Oh, hey, look at me, even though I hate attention and I hate my birthday, but dammit, why didn't you remember?" Also, it wasn't really a stellar day in general.

Mostly, birthdays make me feel lonely and sad. I'm very grateful that Joe goes out of his way to celebrate however I want to that particular year. Which is usually just the two of us because there's nobody I'd rather spend my birthday with than Joe.

And no, today is not my birthday. It's already come and gone this year. I was just shopping for my nephew's birthday (my sister has demanded helpfully suggested purchasing him toys for the family beach vacation) and I was inspired to post about the topic.

But when it IS my birthday, I'm not the kind that announces it and runs around with a tiara (like my coworker last week), proclaiming that you all must love me and kiss my booty for the day. No, that shouldn't just be one day a year. That should be all the time.

And now I'm off to polish my own tiara - it's covered in fingerprints from last time I swapped it out with my halo.

Day of rest

Main Entry: Sun·day
Pronunciation: \ˈsən-(ˌ)dā, -dē\
Function: noun
1. the first day of the week
2. the day of the week between Saturday and Monday
3. Christian Sabbath, an extension of Jewish Shabbat, a day of rest

Main Entry: time–out
Pronunciation: \ˈtīm-ˈau̇t\
Function: noun
1: a brief suspension of activity : break ; especially : a suspension of play in an athletic game
2: a quiet period used especially as a disciplinary measure for children

I have a confession to make... No post today. Way too much on my mind.  I'm burnt out and I need a day off. SomeMonkey insists and I know better than to argue with her.

Probably back tomorrow with something. No idea what, but something.  

Confession: Not a rocket scientist

I have a confession - lately, nothing makes me feel as uneducated, incapable, and dumb as Blogger.

My B.S. degree (which means Bachelors of Science, not Bull Sheep even though my undergrad alma mater was and still is completely out of touch) is in Computer Science. My boring day job is "Webmaster". I've also earned decent money over the years as a web designer/consultant providing sites from the ground up (concept, design, coding, implementation) to people, organizations, and offices large and small.

Yet, somehow, Blogger baffles me. The problem may be that I know too much. That's not a brag. It's the truth. Certain HTML tags that I use every day are disabled in Blogger. Things that should work, nay, WOULD work on any other site, do not work here.

Hence, my code for my pretty button yesterday did not work for everyone. And I can't seem to get Feedburner to play nice, even though I've written my own custom RSS feed application in the past for other sites.

And I can't make my images have a border or not have a border (let's not talk about alignment!) based on how I code the img tag here, despite the fact that I am inputting valid HTML or CSS.

It's frustrating and the biggest reason I avoided Blogger for so long. I'm a control freak. And since I know things are technically possible, I want to do them. When Blogger doesn't cooperate, I want to have a hissy fit.

But the biggest reason I finally succumbed to Blogger was the sense of community. The tools for following and growing relationships is amazing. And with such a massive audience on Blogger, it would be silly to ignore this.

So here I am, coding and cursing all the way. And enjoying most of it. But also sometimes feeling like a complete idiot. For technical reasons, not just reasons relating to logic, silliness, inexperience, or my foot in my mouth.

Confession: Woman driver

I have a confession to make... Remember how I gave up swearing for Lent? Yeah, well, it lasted roughly a week. And to explain why, I have provided you with a handy diagram:



Do NOT laugh at my diagram or I will punch you in the face!

So, Thursday night, after an exhausting day of The Boss being completely on crack about this event we were hosting, it was time to drive over to the opening evening party (the majority of the conference happened on Friday during the day). Because of limited parking, we carpooled to the location. I offered to drive, with about half of my coworkers in the car with me.

Now, please refer to the lovely diagram. The green car lane was going left and the purple car lane going right. We are in the blue car, making a left into a narrow lane that is surrounded by construction barrels.

I waited for traffic to clear and then pulled across to turn into this teensy tiny (did I mention narrow?) lane, wanting to make sure I didn't do something stupid like hit anything with the front of the car in that far row of cones.

Instead, I cut it too tight and took out the barrel so helpfully labeled "HALP!!", scraping it against the front driver's side of the car.

It was at this point that I yelled out "F&%#!!!". With my car loaded up with coworkers. And this is how I failed at keeping my Lenten promise of giving up swears.

P.S. My car's ok. It's over 5 years old and has some minor scratches anyways. This just possibly caused some rubbing near the wheel that could probaby be buffed out. I'm not even certain that those marks weren't already there.

P.P.S. I'm not an all or nothing girl. I have redoubled my efforts to give up further swearing.

P.P.P.S. My coworkers are just going to add this to the list of things I shall never live down.

P.P.P.P.S. When I called Joe to confess that I had hit a barrel, he thought I said I hit an animal. He was quite concerned.

P.P.P.P.P.S. Speaking of Joe, I finally won the "fish is NOT a sacrifice" argument. More on that later!

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Sorry about all those PS's. That was completely uncalled for.

Sunday Confession: A retraction of sorts

I have a confession to make...



Yeah, we gave in. I'm a wuss.

Some very evil gun-toting persuasive little girls accosted us outside Lowes.

"Would you yike to buy thome Girl thcout cewkies?" says knee-high pig-tailed crack dealer child. And of course she knows just who to target. Joe.

Now we have three boxes of the evil cookies in the house. Not for long though - the Thin Mints are half gone, and there's only one chocolate peanut butter cookie left.

So much for lying to children.

Confession: I lie

I have a confession to make... I lie to small children. Specifically, I lie to Girl Scouts.

I also think they totally deserve it so I don't feel guilty. They're a tribe of mini manipulators, positioning themselves outside the supermarket with their scrumptious evil cookies. Last week, I saw a group that thought they were being brilliant, setting up their table between Staples and Trader Joes. Only, they set themselves up for failure because it was possible to go to the other side of the parking lot and avoid them. So what if it was raining and took me an extra 5 minutes to walk around them.

But what about those circumstances when you can't avoid them? My grocery store has two entrances - and those little devils monsters entrepreneurs divide and conquer, splitting the troop between the dual doors. Cute teensy dimpled faces, pigtails blowing in the wind, singing in unison "Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?"

I pause, think of the cookies, the mint ones, right there in those two single-serve sleeves just begging to be devoured my drive home.

And I do what I've learned in the past is the most acceptable solution yielding optimal results - I lie. "Sorry, I already bought a ton from my niece. Good luck!"

Maybe I'm going to hell for lying to the young'uns, but at least my diet will remain intact!

P.S.: Boy Scouts? With your unpopped popcorn? What are you thinking? No way I'm buying that, there's no "now" factor! Just proves yet again that girls are smarter than boys.

Confession: Crying for history

I have a confession to make... I once brought my high school history teacher to tears with a paper I wrote and it was a complete fabrication.

The assignment: Find and interview someone who lived through WWII. Write a paper about their experience.

The actuality: I interviewed a really sweet lady that was basically untouched by the war. Nobody she knew was in the military. She lived on a self-sufficient farm out in the boonies so did not struggle any more than usual to get by. I sat down to write the paper and it was so boring I couldn't stand it. Especially hearing some of my classmates talk about their interviews.

So, I did what any good creative-type would do. I wrote a new paper. A completely fictional paper. I told the fascinating story of my grandfather and his sister. He was sick and turned away when he tried to enlist. His sister, however, went off to war as a nurse, leaving him behind. Everyone in town mocked him for sitting at home while his sister went on to be a hero. Unfortunately, his sister was killed by enemy fire just before she was to return home. My grandfather was never the same after that and my parents named me, the first grandchild, after his sister the nurse.

The day papers were returned, Mr. G didn't hand mine back. Instead, he told me to please see him during lunch. I spent the entire morning terrified that I was going to fail because he must've realized it was a work of fiction. When I entered his classroom, he asked me to wait while he read my paper one last time. As he finished, he wiped at his eyes and I swear he was crying.

"This," he said, "is such a beautiful story. I'm so glad I assigned this paper so you could preserve this bit of your family history. Absolutely wonderful."

He then handed back my A+ paper and I went on my way.

Lesson learned? Creative writing is preferable to the boring truth in situations where you won't be found out. It was a lesson I was happy to learn early in high school and it served me well throughout my college years. And sometimes beyond. Too bad that's not the lesson the Mr. G was trying to teach.

Confession: Liar, liar

I have a confession to make... I lied.

These are the results of the 9 Truths & 1 Lie post from Friday. Some of these will receive individual entries eventually.

1. When I was 9, someone stole my pet rabbit.

Truth. They took Mr. Nibbles right out of the cage. Since bunnies didn't have opposable thumbs back in ye olden days, there's no way he opened the cage on his own.

2. A month after I was born, my mother legally changed my name.

Truth. When she changed it, she changed it to a shortened form of the same name. And I'm actually considering legally changing it again to something else. But I'm too lazy right now to do the paperwork.

3. I have a webcam set up in my home to spy on my cats when I'm away.

Truth. This is also good for spying on contractors, cat sitters, neighbors, and husbands. Err, yeah. A few people did guess this one.

4. I once sent Joe a text that I had been peed on at a Dave Matthews Band concert.

Another one that pinged the lie-dar but it's true. However, I'm not giving any more details because this one merits its own post.

5. We once left our cat in her cage at a hotel watching a movie while we drank ourselves silly at the restaurant next door.

Truth. Tonya spent the night watching "Dude, Where's My Car?" while we worked our way through a set of 4 souvenir glasses at Hard Rock Cafe. (No, we didn't leave Rusty home to freeze. Rusty didn't live with us yet.)

6. I've been taken to the hospital in an ambulance twice in my life.

Truth. Once because I ate a bunch of poison berries and had to have my stomach pumped. Once because I fell out of a tree.

7. I am allergic to dogs, which is why I have two cats.

This one had lots of guesses. Which proves I totally fail at this game because it is the LIE. However, the various reasonings were incorrect. I am NOT allergic to dogs but I found out recently that I AM allergic to cats. I like to threaten Tonya and Rusty with this on a regular basis. "You two had better quit fighting or I'll get rid of you like the doctor said!!!"

8. My mother-in-law, an uber-religious woman, mailed me a t-shirt that read "I'm not a bitch, I'm a princess".

Truth but it had some votes. My mother-in-law could be an entire blog of her own. She's a very unique creature.

9. While living in the college dorms, I had multiple encounters with the ghost of a dead student.

Truth and also had some votes. I might make an entry out of this one sometime soon as well. I had heard the story of the ghost before I lived in that dorm but experienced it for myself for a whole long summer.

10. I was once cast as "Christine" (the female lead) in a production of Phantom of the Opera.

Truth with no votes. Unfortunately, it was local theatre and never got off the ground. Which is probably just as well - we had no business taking on something so complicated. Oops, there WAS a vote for #10. Thanks to SomeMonkey for pointing that out.

Thanks to everyone that made guesses.

Confession: Saint Cate

I have a confession to make... I'm a saint.

It must be true because I've been staring at the screen for over two hours now, trying to come up with a confession and so far I've completely failed.

In that amount of time, I could've read 100 pages in my book, worked out and showered, or cleaned my bathroom. Instead, I've got nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

Perhaps the issue is that I want to be perfect in my imperfection. I've actually written confessions on three different subjects this morning and none of them have been worthy of posting. Clunky, boring, unfunny.

For now, I'm giving up and going to do something more productive. Sorry folks, I should've written some confessions when I was experiencing all of those migraines earlier in the week. Better luck next time!

Confession: I have no team spirit

I have a confession to make... I'm terrified of car flags.

You know, those flags that people insert over their windows to support their favorite sports team? They may think it's harmless but they never give a second thought to the fact that they could totally poke an innocent bystander's eye out. It's all in fun until someone ruptures their spleen!

I've found I can't follow a vehicle with one of those flags for more than 30 seconds before I'm judging whether I can pass them or take an alternate route to my destination. I envision the flag tearing off their car, becoming a projectile missile, piercing my windshield before poking a hole in my brain.

Yes, I do realize this is probably what some would refer to as an irrational fear. But for me, it's all too real.

Which leads me to the most horrifying local news story of 2008. Our hockey team decided it would be awesome to give away car flags this year - first to all of the season ticket holders, and then to everyone attending opening night. Total distribution was probably around 25,000 flags. This resulted in car flags everywhere locally - often multiple flags on the same car! But it gets worse. The team went with a cheap vendor and the quality of the flags was poor. Causing them to break and fly off vehicles at speeds over 40 mph. Oh, how I wish I was making this up.

My worst nightmare - flags on every car, knowing my fright was now justified. And rather than feel vindicated that I was right all along, I was too busy being terrorized to issue I told you so's. Driving around town took on the vibe of a bad video game of dodging these eye-gouging team spirit spears.

Thankfully, most of the flags didn't even make it home from opening night before they were littering the highways. By the time Monday came around, most flags were long gone or removed by the owners. But for me, that first weekend in October was a very special kind of hell - with the silver lining of knowing that my fear is not unjustified. At least I was spared losing anyone close to me due to car flag-related injury.

Confession: Give me a minute to jot that down

I have a confession to make... I am obsessed with lists. To the point that it may be a diagnosable illness.

I have lists for everything:

• Weekly groceries
• Daily to-do
• Longterm home improvements
• Trip packing
• House cleaning
• Books to read
• Blog ideas

Even my lists have lists. The trip packing lists? Those are compartmentalized into Preparation (cancel the paper, leave a check for the cat sitter) and Packing, which is further broken down into Clothes, Medications, Toiletries, Entertainment, Other.

I've never met a situation that I couldn't make a list for. And being a closet bit of a certified tech geek, most of my lists are in some electronic format. The previous tool of choice was a Google Spreadsheet. But recently, the new "Tasks" list in Gmail owns my soul.

Some of my lists have even progressed to the point of being made into a database. A searchable database accessible through my website (password protected, of course!). Granted, this is more of a catalog situation, but what's a catalog if not a list? And it's all for the greater good. If Joe can search to see if we already own a CD before he purchases it, we end up with fewer duplicates!

I'm sure there's some fancy word for it (listmania?) and I'm also sure there's no cure. Especially this time of year - because I also get very excited about other people making lists. Year in Review? 2008 Wrap-Up? I can barely stand it!

Now, I'm off to create a list of things I need to do between now and our evening plans. As well as a list for work tomorrow. And a list of things to finish before New Years Eve. Oh, also, a list of things I'm starting on January 1st. Maybe I should start with a list of the lists I need to create...

Confession: I'm not that picky

I have a confession to make... I drink wine from a box. And I like it.

I'll give you a moment to recover from the shock. Or not.

Truth is, I adore wine but I don't like spending a lot of money on it. I challenge myself to keep it under $10 for a bottle and have found some nice wines in that range. I'm sure someone with more refined tastes would scoff but if it satisfies me, that's what matters.

Anyways, back to the boxes. Even with my inexpensive tastes, I've always looked down on boxed wine (the same as I do on wine with a screw top). That is, until I came home one night to see a box on my counter.

me: What is that?
Joe: Wine.
me: Yes, but why is it in a box?
Joe: It was less expensive.
me: For a reason. It's going to taste icky.
Joe: No, it's not. It's the exact same wine you drink out of a bottle, only it cost less for more. Win win!

He was right, of course. Which makes me want to kick things (no, not puppies).

This means the new rule is that we don't buy anything in a box that we haven't enjoyed from a bottle. So far our list includes Turning Leaf Pinot Noir and Pinot Evil (another pinot noir with an awesome monkey on the label).

There you have it, my first Sunday confession. A little weak but I need to ease myself into the juicier stuff.