Tidbits

I'm okay with people who pick out and share the name for their baby before the child is born. It DOES kind of wig me out when parents routinely refer to their unborn child by name. It's just a little weird. Had a whole conversation with a woman and couldn't for the life of me figure out who 'Steven' was. After the fact, I realized 'Steven' was the child she would give birth to in four months. It was weird.

We went to see The Kings Speech the other night. It's rated R. On the way into the theatre, the ticket taker pointed to me and asked Z "Is she over 17?" to which he replied, "Well, I hope so, she's my wife!"
I also got carded to buy spray paint the other day. I guess I'll appreciate it when I am older I guess... but when I am 25 and getting banned from rated R movies... it's a little lame.

I have to go to the doctor today, and I'm not really excited about it. Z says if I am good I get to celebrate by buying jewelry tonight. I guess that's the adult equivalent of the 'sticker box'.

Z and I played scrabble the other day. We each expanded our vocabulary through the process. I didn't know what a wadi was and he didn't know what a wino was. I decided to just let him look it up in the dictionary rather than start naming names.

People need to stop confiding in me. I am a TERRIBLE secret keeper. Seriously, have you met me? If I have a secret it's written all over my face. Within 24 hours I am in physical pain trying not to blab.
Christmas and birthdays make me a total train wreck of anxiety over blabbing. I think I accidentally told all my family members what their gifts were last December. If I have a secret i have to tell someone about it-- After i tell one person the brain splitting secret-keeping anxiety subsides some. Z is the most likely candidate, but he doesn't play along well. We have conversations that go like this:
Me: I have a secret!
Z: Good
Me: Do you want to know what it is?
Z: No, then it won't be a secret.
Me: But don't you want to be a part of the secret?
Z: No, if it's a secret, I'd prefer you not tell me.
Me: But don't you want to know what it is?
Z: No, if it's a secret I don't need to.
Me: But but don't you want--
Z: I want you to stop talking to me about the secret.
Me: (Sigh.) WHY WON'T YOU PLAY MY GAME!?!?
The problem is... even though I am really bad at secrets and surprises, I truly love them with all my heart.
Z doesn't love secrets or surprises. We are an unfortunate combination.

Still in love with my Magic School Bus Yellow sweater. So glad I took the plunge and dyed it. My husband thinks I wear it too much, and comments-- Oh, you are wearing that yellow sweater... again.

I am about 98% certain someone is putting maple syrup on my desk in the afternoons while I am gone for lunch. I come back and it smells strongly of maple syrup in here, and my desk is sticky. Ew.