It's getting weird

So, I'm getting a bit obsessed with the number count on my FitBit pedometer.

Like, I'm walking around as I'm typing this right now.

But I realized things were getting weird this morning, when my fixation on the step count collided with my complete lack of self-control...

...and I went into the lunch room and jogged on the spot while eating a doughnut.

(Yes, I think a tale of obsession, indulgence and weirdness is a fitting way to herald my return, don't you?)

My subconscious is weird

I had a dream the other night that I was being actively romantically pursued by Seth Rogen.

First of all -- Seth Rogen? I mean, he seems nice, but....really?

Second of all -- even in my dream, I was schlumpy -- hair in a ponytail, oversized sweatshirt. Really, why would he come all the way to London, Ontario to get some of that?

Thirdly -- when he picked me up for our date (at my neighbours' house, two doors down, for some reason), he said, "I was thinking we could just make some dinner, I see here that hamburgers are on sale." And he was holding a No Frills flyer!

Apparently I prize frugality and low expectations.

Biology question

Why does a sphincter have such a messed up sense of geography?

Or a sense of geography at all, for that matter?

Because inevitably, when you're two or three blocks away from home, your sphincter says, "Oh good, we're home" and starts to relax, even though every other fibre of your being is screaming: "NOT YET NOT YET NOT YET NOT YET!"

Someone needs to invent a sphincter GPS. In this case, though, it would be a "geographical poo synchronizer."

Top 3 reasons why everyone should listen to Songza

(Specifically, the "Your Own 80's Training Montage" station on Songza.)

1. If you are in the final stretch of making a traditional Sunday dinner, Gonna Fly Now from Rocky will come on, and your husband will suddenly be driven to mash those potatoes to perfection and you will slice the roast beef like a boss, and the completion of the meal will be elevated--in much the same way that your search for a parking space was by that gentleman's classical music--to an epic challenge that you conquer together.
2. When you sit down to eat that spectacular meal, Axel F will then come on, and your entire family will spontaneously start eating like robots.
3. You will be able to face any challenge in life, overcome any obstacle, and triumph over adversity, when this song comes on. (Especially if Billy Zabka and his band of karate bullies are chasing you, and you're dressed as a shower for Halloween.)

Don't get uppity

I was feeling pretty good today.

Got quite a few things accomplished, the house didn't look half-bad, heck, we even managed to get to church this morning.

Dinner was really quite tasty, no catastrophes involved at all (I know!!), and everyone was hunkered down to watch some AFV before bed. (I guess it's not really a guilty pleasure if I keep telling people that I watch it, is it?)

Then I decided to take off my shirt before I started to colour my hair. (Those are reasons one and two for starting to feel less great about yourself, combined.)

And then I looked down and discovered an unidentified glob of food in my cleavage.

No one knows what it was, or how long it was there (to be said in the Spinal Tap voice from the spoken word portion of Stonehenge, please).

I guessed peanut butter. DH guessed caramel.

Answer: cookie dough - undoubtedly from when I was feverishly licking the beater before any children could come up and ask to do the same.

Which ultimately made me think to myself:

New glasses

So, I got new glasses. 

Oh, and the optometrist gently suggested that the next time I get a new prescription, we will probably be looking into bifocals. He really was very sweet about it. Which is the only thing that prevented me from slapping him senseless.

So, the glasses. 

DH said, "They look a little hipster-esque!"

 I laughed and went on with my life.

But then a few days later, he said:

"So! Do you like your new glasses?"

Which, for those of you who don't speak husband, means: 

"I don't like your glasses."

But I assured him that I do, and continued to go on with my life. 

But now I think he might be right about them being hipster-esque.

I was walking to the bank the other day, when a full-on hipster exited the building. Plaid shirt, flat hat, horn-rimmed glasses which may or may not have contained prescriptive lenses, bow tie. I even thought, "What kind of bow-tie worthy event is this hipster attending at 4 o'clock on a Sunday?"

But here's the thing: the hipster looked at me, then looked away....then looked again. As if he were momentarily confused. Like the glasses were a code that we had silently exchanged, but the mom jeans, running shoes and fleece hoodie were sending a completely different message. Were I twenty years younger, perhaps I could've been wearing them ironically. But no, I really was a mom going for a walk in comfy shoes on a chilly day.

So I apologize to anyone who has been similarly confused by my new eyewear. Perhaps I will start wearing them on a chain or perched on the end of my nose in order to avoid further misunderstandings.

Weird things that have happened to me in the car (lately)

1) Tried to find a parking spot in the UH parking building, that seems to spiral upwards FOREVER. Oh, and if you're just a visitor, don't even think about slowing down and looking for a spot on the first 4(00) levels, because those are all reserved.

So, I was corkscrewing my way up to heaven (is that a country music song title? And if it isn't yet, shouldn't it be?), and as soon as I got to level 5(00) or whatever it is where mere mortals can find a spot, I suddenly heard classical music. Really loud classical music. So loud that I stuck my head out the window to determine where the music was coming from, and determined that it must be getting piped in through some speakers. As if the administration at UH wanted to make up for the fact that we might be light-headed and sleep-deprived by the time we got to our parking area.

Higher and higher I climbed, listening to the music, when I realized that the music was actually coming from the car in front of me. I can't overemphasize how LOUD this music was. So the fact that one man was listening to the music at that volume in his car was a little disconcerting. But the thing is, it wasn't all "stringed instruments and angels welcoming us to heaven" classical music, it was Wagnerian, serious sounding music.

Which was totally fitting, and really pretty awesome because it made this search for a parking spot feel even more like an epic quest worthy of such a soundtrack.

When I finally found a spot, I was going to go over and tell the driver that, but he was still in his (parked) car, still with the music at that volume, so instead I chose to just back away slowly.

Because it was a cool soundtrack, but it was still weird.


2) Attacked by a bee.


3) Drove to the International Plowing Match at 7:00 am in pea soup fog.

I could've ended that sentence at "Drove to the International Plowing Match at 7:00 am" and it still would've been a weird thing that happened to me (or that I did to myself) lately.

BUT, I was driving on country roads, in the dark, in pea soup fog, not knowing where I was going, because I forgot to bring a map, and then a red light came on in the dashboard that said "SBS."

I had a vague memory that this particular light had something to do with the air bags. I pondered this for a moment, and then I thought, "Meh."

Not ten minutes later, as I was listening to the Stax 'n' Loop show on 102.3 BOB FM (yes that was a shameless plug, but also, it was truly the only good part about my drive that day) there was a news item that Honda Odysseys from 2003 - 2004 were being recalled because of an air bag defect. Did I mention that I was driving a Honda Odyssey? Guess what year it was made?

Nothing like a bout of sheer terror to jump start your day!