1. Taking criticism, no matter how constructive and gently delivered.
2. Pacing my alcohol intake.
3. Singing.
4. Putting away laundry, dishes, etc. once they're clean. They're CLEAN. Isn't that enough?
5. Saying no when there's too much on my plate.
6. Making plans with friends.
7. Asking for help when I need it.
8. Showing affection.
9. Throwing things away.
10. Understanding my finances.
11. Remembering to book doctors' appointments.
12. Driving a stick.
13. Not laughing at inappropriate moments.
14. Not wasting time in the evenings worrying about what to blog about.

What are you bad at?

On Saturday, Peter and I went to do our second walk-through of a house we visited earlier, this time accompanied by a real estate agent who actually knows her stuff. We asked questions about the windows, the well, the septic system, the gas tank. We found out what the next step would be in terms of making an offer. When we left on Saturday morning we agreed to think about it...but in our minds, we'd already decided we'd be putting in an offer.

Nevertheless, in the interest of being responsible and giving everything adequate thought, we decided to wait until today, Monday, to make an offer. We gave ourselves the weekend to think of any cons to putting our offer forward and taking the next step.

I spent the weekend picturing our furniture in the house, thinking about how I'd arrange the contents of the kitchen cupboards, planning which pictures we'd hang where and what colour we'd repaint the spare room. We went to Home Depot on Sunday to look at appliances and paint chips. I pictured our housewarming party-barbecue on the deck and Guitar Hero in the rec room.

Today Peter called our agent to make an offer and found out another offer was already made and accepted last night.

I'm totally heartbroken. I can't speak for Peter, but I had already seen myself living in that house. I don't want to hear "I told you so's" about not getting your hopes up. It was the perfect size, layout, and location, with a big beautifully landscaped yard and within walking distance to the community centre and local schools. I could see us having breakfast in the dining room, setting up a home office, eventually decorating the nursery for a baby. It was comfortably within our price range and did not require any renovations. Of course, it stands to reason it would get snapped up quickly.

In addition to being disappointed, I'm also now telling myself that we'll never find another place as good and we're destined to live in an apartment forever and ever and ever. Plus, I have wished bodily harm to whoever made the other offer more than once today.

I don't want to hear how we waited to long to make an offer (48 hours does not seem that excessive to me) or how "everything happens for a reason and your perfect home is out there!" I'm sad and mad and this is my pity party. I officially hate house hunting.

Loving:

+Fridays
+Southern Butter Pecan creamer in my coffee
+The Olympics
+40% off sales
+House hunting
+Ladies' night potluck tomorrow
+Saturday morning croissants
+Friday night movie dates--Shutter Island tonight!
+Magazines
+PAYDAY!!

Not so much:

-Drama on Fridays
-Toxic friends
-The Mad Men season 1 finale-WTF was that?!
-Being hungry
-The temperature in the office
-Daytime sleepiness
-Being double-booked
-Winter never ending
-Waiting
-Being sick of the songs on my playlist and not knowing good stuff to add. Suggestions are welcome!

So just when all the New Year's resolutions have gone out the window and you've nicely returned to a lifestyle of guilt-free gluttony and sloth behaviours, Lent pops out of nowhere wreaking havoc on the come home-pour drink-have a good sit routine. Fortunately I'm not Catholic, so technically, I'm good. I don't have to give up anything. I can drink, smoke, and eat bags upon bags of Cheetos until I explode, and Jesus doesn't care. He loves me anyway.

But in the name of being a good sport and "don't hate, participate" I've decided to give up something for Lent this year. It could be that I've been afflicted with the Olympic spirit. Or maybe I feel like I need to earn a few extra brownie points with Jesus, God & co. on account of being horrible so much of the time.

Whatever the reason, for the next 40 days and 40 nights, I'm giving up...drumroll...SUGARY BAD THINGS.

I can't narrow it down much more than that, because if I say 'chocolate', next thing you know I'm om-noming on Skittles or Gummi Bears or Jelly Bellies ad nauseum.

However, because all sorts of awesome foods contain sugar, allow me to clarify a few things.

Foods Jesus doesn't want me to eat:
-chocolate bars
-chocolate candies
-misty mints
-gummies
-smarties
-Reese's
-doughnuts
-cookies
-brownies
-M&Ms
-fudge
-cake
-spoonfulls of frosting straight out of the jar
-pies
-regular pop
-kool-aid

Foods Jesus is OK with me eating, because Jesus he knows me, and he knows I'm right:
-hot chocolate (IT DOESN'T COUNT AS A FOOD!)
-baked goods that aren't in the above list, i.e. bread and rolls are OK
-fruit
-diet Coke
-sweetener for my coffee
-a lil' brown sugar on my oatmeal
-cereal that has sugar in it
-granola bars
-syrup (I use E.D. Smith sugar-free so it doesn't count) and honey
-Jello fat free pudding or sugar-free Jello. It has no fat. I'm already sacrificing something. It may have bits of animal hooves in it, but by God, there's no fat.

Today is day 1 and after dinner I was already eyeing the leftover Valentine's Day candy that our kitchen seems to be birthing on a daily basis--I swear, it's multiplying, not dwindling away. I finally talked myself off the candy ledge by repeating, "You are not hungry, you are just crazy" and feeding my sugar cravings with hunks of melon.

My hope is that by the end of 40 days I won't miss sugary things at all. They say it takes three weeks to break a habit. Plus, I never used to have a sweet tooth--it's something that seems to have developed over time and peaks when things get stressful--and I want to start generating that stress into something else, like going for a walk, playing piano or writing in my journal rather than pounding back a Kit-Kat or a handful of Reese's Pieces.

I think that the possibility of winning favour with Jesus could be just the motivation I need to eat a little healthier. Before I cave and head to the office chocolate stash, I'm going to ask myself, WWJE? Yes, what would Jesus eat? Then I'll act accordingly. And I'll show all you Catholics. Booyah.

Confession: I enjoy Valentine's Day. Even when I was single, I was pretty positive about February 14, probably because I associate it--like all holidays--with a gut-busting meal and boozefest.

In fact, one of my favourite Valentine's Days on record was when I was about as single as it gets and hated men. I was actually never planning on having another boyfriend and was pumped about the idea. I came home from work, cooked a huge pot of pasta (probably enough for about six people), drank liver-pickling amounts of wine and passed out while watching a Dawson's Creek DVD marathon.

Now that I'm all old and married, Valentine's Day hasn't lost its appeal. This morning I attempted heart-shaped pancakes for hubby and myself. I say "attempted" because I couldn't find my heart-shaped cookie cutter. Freehand cutting pancakes doesn't work. There were almost tears, but Peter is a good sport and ate his butchered crap-dough cheerfully, which made me feel pretty loved.

And last night we went out for dinner, where we split half a litre of pinot grigio (so I probably had two glasses) and managed to be drunk enough to have a dance party on the walk back to the car...by myself...and then realized I had left my purse in the restaurant.

The piece de resistance of this year's VD was getting flowers delivered to work every day this past week. My desk looks a bit like a funeral, except with computers and without the warm embrace of angels and eternal rest. The week also involved cupcakes and cute cards.

What's to hate about this holiday?! There's food and booze and flowers and sexy time.

Don't hate, participate.

Today's post is courtesy of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. The assignment was to write a poem to your love on Valentine's Day.

Confession: I hate poetry. I hate rhyming poetry. I hate prose-y poetry like what people read aloud in coffeeshops. I think poetry is pretty much the most pretentious art form, unless it's meant to be comical.

When I die and go to hell, there will be a woman in the corner with dreads and a skirt that drags on the floor and she'll be reciting poetry allllllll day long.

BUT THERE IS ONE EXCEPTION. Haiku. I love haiku. You can write a haiku for absolutely any occasion, and the formula is so easy! Plus they're kind of supposed to sound stupid, so that makes everything easier.

Without further ado, here are some haiku I toiled over for my little lovebird:

I love you, Peter
Although you don't drink coffee
You make good poached eggs.

You're very handsome
In fact, prettier than me
I'm kind of worried.

You are always kind
Even when I'm retarded
Which is...all the time...

Your only flaw is
Falling down for no reason
Running into shit

But I do that too
We are a pair of klutzes
Our kids will be doomed.

Happy V-Day Pete!
Will you be my Valentine?
Love you very much :)


Last Valentine's Day in NYC

I've been under the delusion that house-hunting would be sort of like my wedding dress shopping experience: find some pictures online that look pretty, see it in real life and realize it's a perfect fit, buy it, and never have to think about it again. Unfortunately, a home is not something you wear for eight or so hours and then hang in the closet for the rest of your life.

(Confession: I'm not 100% sure where my wedding dress IS. I think it's at my parents' house, but I'm not sure, and I don't want to ask my mother because she'll freak out that I even have to ask the question. It's not like I need to wear it again, so it doesn't really matter, right? Moving on...)

Peter and I went for our very first house viewing yesterday, and I've realized it's not going to be quite as simple as I'd hoped. It's not that the house wasn't nice, or that we couldn't picture ourselves living there. But there was no magical *aha!* moment where we knew it's the right place for us.

It was more like, "wellllll, IF we ripped up this carpet, replaced the baseboards, redid the bathrooms, installed new light fixtures, and got rid of the lingering scent of cat litter box, this house would be perfect."

Maybe there is no magical moment. Maybe you settle and move in expecting to do some work. I could be having delusions of perfection, but it feels like with such a big purchase, it's pretty important that things are either just right, or you have a very clear vision of how to make them perfect for you--and the motivation and know-how to do the work.

After all, this isn't a dress you wear for a few hours and never look at again. It'll be our home...maybe not for the rest of our lives, but for a while. It deserves some serious thought and planning and contemplation, even more than I'd been expecting to invest.

For now, we'll keep looking for our new house and enjoy our current home as much as we can in the meantime. We're warm and happy and comfy and that's the most important thing.

Ok...hardwood floors are nice too.

And walk-in closets.

And crown moldings.

1. lululemon. I understand that lululemon makes OMGGGGG THE BEST yoga clothing/workout gear/$95 zip-ups in the world, but every time I see the logo between some university student's shoulder blades, I kind of want to slam my face into the nearest brick wall. It's not that I can't pay $54 for a solid coloured basic tank top. It's that I won't!

2. In the locker room at my gym, naked or otherwise. I hate locker rooms and avoid them at all costs. I'm afraid of what I could see, potentially step on, or sit on. I leave my gym sweaty and gross, and go home to shower and change, every single time. I'd rather funk up my winter coat and have to sit in the car in unpleasantly damp non-lululemon gear all the way home than venture into the chamber of horrors changing room.

3. Any place where many small children are gathered (e.g. day care centre, birthday party, etc. I find kids frightening one-on-one. They're unpredictable. You never know what they're going to do next. Put a bunch of kids together and they feed off one another. Their evil forces grow and grow exponentially...children are bad.

4. At a Britney Spears concert. It's not that "I secretly like Britney and think she's catchy but won't admit it because it isn't cool" phase. The truth is, I wouldn't sit next to Britney Spears on a public transportation vehicle for fear of catching something.

5. At a Nicolas Cage movie. Nicolas Cage's face is like a cow standing in a pasture looking at a train going by.

6. At a go-kart track. I'm HORRIBLE at driving go-karts and I don't enjoy it at all! I can't go fast without ramming into stuff and getting yelled at by the staff, so I drive slow, and then I'm getting lapped by 7-year-olds. Then I get mad at the kids, floor my go-kart and end up being asked to leave, but not before giving the kids the finger and almost getting into a fistfight with their mom-slash-aunt-slash-tranny-hooker-guardian. (Totally hypothetical situation. Obviously.)

7. On a golf course. Golf brings out a horrible rage in me unlike anything else. I have golfed probably half a dozen times in my life and I haven't improved with practice. The last time I golfed, I got so furious because I couldn't hit the ball I kind of blacked out and smashed my (rented) 3-iron against a tree and walked off the course leaving my bag of clubs in the middle of the green. I won't be back, in particular not to that particular course.

8. Pretending to enjoy wrestling/UFC/MMA of any sort at a pay-per-view. I have girly-girl friends that act allllll excited because Georges St. Whatever and Mr. Jenna Jameson are fighting/making out on pay-per-view. Honestly, I think girls pretending to like UFC is the new "girls pretending to be lesbians to get drinks at bars".

9. At a recycling depot. I'm not proud of this but I never recycle my bottles and cans. Everything goes into the same garbage can. It's bad, I know. Not just for the environment...but all the extra money I'm literally throwing away!

10. At an all-you-can-eat lobster dinner. Lobster is one of about three or four foods I just can't eat. I can't stand the smell of lobster or the sight of a poor lobster's boiled head resting on the edge of a plate while some bibbed, buttery-faced asshole smacks away on its body.

What about you--what are some places you'd never be seen?

1. Update my iPod
2. Re-learn the bass clef staff
3. Go snowshoeing and skating
4. Bake Valentine's Day treats and send cards
5. Track my spending
6. Write a story plot outline
7. Run a minimum of 5x/week and do weights 2x/week

I love February because it's short. I like to think (fantasize like an idiot) that the worst of winter is over when February gets here.

If February were a movie it would be a chick flick with a run time of 1 hour, 28 minutes. Perfect for people with crappy attention spans, like me.

Tomorrow is Groundhog Day, which also means that spring is almost here from a purely scientific perspective. If that stupid groundhog sees its shadow, I'm going to drive to Shubenacadie and snap its backbone and leave it on Mother Nature's front lawn.