Let It Be

Realization: I'm an affirmation whore. I'm old enough to recognize the same behavior in my children now, so it's time to put an end to the madness.

I think most women are guilty of it to some degree, but it's a little embarrassing in my case.
Whipped cream on my latte'? "No, thanks, I'm sticking to the nonfat!"

(Blank stare from Starbucks associate.)

What, did I think he was going to give me friggin' high-fives and offer congratulations?

I would say I'm a blog comment whore, but so few of you write to me I'd be a really, really bad whore if it were true. Yet it's clearly an attempt at the affirmation thing even being out here.

There's the over-the-top complimenting others aspect--which is absolutely genuine, by the way, but also an indication of the disease (they MUST like hearing how nice their hair looks, because doesn't everyone?).

When the kids do it, I'm mellow about it. I mean, it's okay for a 6-year-old to constantly ask if they're behaving well. And are funny. And dance beautifully....okay, again, I think I'm modeling bad behavior on this one.

So I'm going to try to stop. I can affirm myself all over the place, thank you very much. I don't need someone else to do it for me. (That's strong of me to say, huh? Pretty self-assured chicky, aren't I?)

It's a work in progress.

Where the Streets Have No Name

This weekend I enjoyed both a belated Passover seder and a very cool Easter egg hunt. My poor kids don't know how God really fits into all of this, but the importance of traditions and family time is shining through at least.

For time spent otherwise, I went to the Inner Harbor in Baltimore--something I haven't done in a long time. It was different, but the same. A lot of new development but plenty of familiar stand-bys. The most amazing part was the girls of Bawlmore still partyin' with their too-tight jeans and over-curled hair like it was 1999. Actually, like it was 1989 (no need to break out the pictures of me from that era, friends).

In any case, driving around there drove home the point once again that Motown is lacking in some very serious ways. The streets here are like navigating a mine field and tear up the cars faster than they can build them--which isn't very fast. (Aack! I will most certainly be whacked in my sleep for writing that. Big Brother Union, don't read this, please.) The weather sucks. And the city's gems are surrounded by decidedly NON-gems, so it's another obstacle course getting into town just to enjoy them.

The good news is that spring has finally sprung. I mean, come on people....is it really possible to be cold, rainy, gray and miserable and not be in the middle of the arctic? Apparently.

But I'm such a badass I'm going so far as to put away my sweaters and coats. In your face, Michigan weather. I dare you to hit me one more time.

Big Time

Yay! The Lady Terps won the Big Game! Yay!

Have I ever gone to a women's basketball game, college or otherwise? No!

Am I a bandwagon baby who only pays attention when something interesting from my home base pops up? Yes!

Do I give a sheet?

No!

Yay Terps!