I think I'm turning Japanese

Got this in my email today:

ホテル ヴィラ フォンテー

It's part of the email address of our hotel in Tokyo. Better brush up on my Japanese.

Konichiwa?

Good News!

In between being crazy and ranty, I've been BUSY! Here's some HAPPY news:

• We've finished painting the guest room, and instead of painting all four walls, we've decided to put up some grass cloth on one wall...its going to be a sweet sanctuary in there. And tonight Steve put in two new recessed ceiling lights. He learned how to wire them, cut out holes in the ceiling, and put in a dimmer. He is the most awesome guy on earth!!
• I'm getting my dress altered in LA this weekend and squeezing in some girl time with three of my maids!
• We officially booked our trip to Japan. 7 days and 8 nights in Roppongi, Tokyo! Woot woot!
• I've been going to the gym three nights a week for the past two months and I am getting seriously ripped. Watch out!
• Steve's parents were here last weekend and they helped us clean up the yard a bit. It looks gorgeous after the rain. We also planted 200 succulents for the wedding!! The best thing about Steve's parents coming is that they bring us a TON of home-made goodies. My favorite is Zucchini Chocolate bread. Sounds weird, but it is HEAVEN. Steve's step-dad even made me a gorgeous cobalt blue cake stand and a scrap jar for the compost bin.
• We're painting the office next: ORANGE!

Before and after pictures of our guest room to come soon!

Mr. Monk

Have you ever watched the TV show, Monk? I'd never heard of it until recently, but it's about this detective who helps solve crimes, but the focus is mostly on his quirky personality and severe OCD. We get a giggle out of crazy Mr. Monk because he freaks out about things like germs, personal contact, crossing the street, stepping on cracks, getting his hands dirty, not shutting drawers all the way, you get the idea...

So we laugh and poke fun at Mr. Monk and his silly behavior, but the other night it struck me...I AM BECOMING MR. MONK! I am dead serious. It's getting worse over time, and only recently have I really noticed my problem. I used to be so much more laid back about my living space...messy room, messy kitchen, dirty dishes, chung in the bathroom sink. And I'd get to it when I got to it. I don't know whether it is the fact that I own my home or have some nicer things now, a dangerous combination of both, or even a little hypochondria sneaking in there, but I am getting nuttier and nuttier and must protect MY STUFF as if it is my sole purpose on this earth. You're right, this sounds like a GOOD thing, but I go overboard, and I don't know how to control these new emotions.

I used to let crumbs fall on the kitchen floor, and Steve would finally sweep and mop when he couldn't stand my mess anymore. Now, if there is one crumb on the floor, especially AFTER I've just swept, I go into freak-out mode! Freak-out mode looks something like me slouched down on the floor mumbling, "I can't do it anymore!!!" with tears streaming down my face. How DARE that crumb fall on the floor! How RUDE of that crumb! And what awful person let it happen?! Usually ME! If it is someone else I WILL get over it...and most likely I will quietly get the broom and sweep it up. But if I ignore it, I can't stop thinking about it. It's poor Steve that I am worried about...oh man, my blood just boils when I see that dirt speck or grass blade or a goat head in the laundry room.

I am probably scaring you now, but don't worry, I am also probably exaggerating a bit. But I have to get this message across! And my message is this: I NEED HELP! I can't even enjoy a tv show while steve is using my new lap top because I spend the whole time worrying that he is getting it dirty with his manly outdoor hands. And I even worry for Steve's health when he lays on the living room floor if I haven't vacuumed in a few days. And I have a REALLY nice white blanket that I love with my whole being. But, can anyone else cuddle with it? They CAN, but it tortures me! Not because I don't want them to snuggle down in all of its wonder, but I imagine all of the possible grime and grit that will be on it after they are done. What happens if they sneeze on it!? Or accidentally spill a crumb on it!? Oh my god, I drive myself crazy. I do not like feeling this way. AT ALL. I want my best friends and family to enjoy my STUFF. So what do I do?!

I can't let dishes go unwashed for more than a couple of hours after a meal. I can't let the clean dishes stay in the dishwasher very long - it must be emptied as soon as possible! I can't mix my laundry - jeans with jeans, whites with whites, darks with darks, heavy with heavy, and on and on and on. I can't eat if I don't have a napkin nearby. I can't use a sponge after it has a HINT of moldy sponge smell. I can't cook dinner until the kitchen is clean. Am I crazy or is this all normal? Steve gets irritated by my nonsensical behavior sometimes, and I don't blame him at all...but he also said maybe it's a good thing that I want things to stay nice and last a long time. I see both sides, but I am about to commit myself to the crazy-house.

I do like the feeling of really taking care of things that I've worked hard to get, but I don't want my life to revolve around this stuff. I want to just be happy and not care and stress about stupid things. And, it's funny, because there are other things that I do not care about one single tiny bit. Okay, maybe a little. Like, washing my car, hanging up my clothes after I wear them, making the bed, dusting, cleaning the stove...so why do I obsess over something like touching my blanket?! I'll probably get over it sooner or later, but if anyone has any experience with Crazies, please let me know!

Oh, and Mom, remember in Elementary School when I had to go to that "Nonsense Class" - or did you even know about that? Well, I remember something about going to a Nonsense Class where I had to watch silly videos about animals doing and saying nonsensical things. I don't know if I had to go to this because I said a lot of nonsense in school? Or was it because I had a vivid imagination? Do you remember this, Mom? Maybe this will help me figure out why I am so nutty.

Forever Young

I totally understand getting carded for purchasing alcohol. I have my ID out and ready any time I am within two feet of alcohol. I even get a little bit of joy out of people's reactions once they grab my ID and quickly calculate my real age, which is usually followed by a "wow!" But I do find it annoying when Steve buys alcohol and they won't even let me grab the bag unless I show my ID. I love coming through the aisle with a case of Bud Light and a few bottles of wine. The other customers always look at me like I am crazy for trying such a stunt. I also think its funny when we are at a restaurant and they ask Steve for his ID after looking at mine. Come on people, if I am over 21, Mr. Gray Beard has GOT to be.

But do you want to know what really burns my biscuits? Carding me for buying NYQUIL! Is this lady really going to make me sniffle through my purse to find my wretched ID to prove to her that I am over the age of 18. EIGHTEEN! I was 18 nine years ago! Then she says, "Oh my! Well, you will love it when you are older!" So freaking sick of hearing that phrase. Honestly, it doesn't do anything for me.

Drip Drip

While Helya was here a few weeks ago, I decided we were in dire need of pampering and stress relief, so we went to Sycamore Mineral Springs for a soak in the hot tub and a one-hour massage. Unfortunately for me, I started feeling sick that day so I popped a bunch of DayQuil and stuffed my robe full of tissues. So there I was, robe-less and face down on a table with my arms pinned down by my sides underneath several layers of sheets while my precious kleenex were hidden away deep inside my robe across the room. For the first 10 minutes of the massage I was feeling great - relaxed, calm and peaceful. That's when the DayQuil started to wear off and my nose started to run. It wasn't a steady stream of snot where you have to wipe your nose every second, but it was the excruciating kind of runny nose - a tickly stubborn dribble that shakes hands with every single nose hair.

Now, instead of enjoying my massage, I could only concentrate on how to avoid dripping on the masseuse's shoe underneath me. How embarrasing would that be if all of a sudden, SPLAT! an AUDIBLE booger droplet landed on her shoe and she had to wipe it off mid-massage!? Would she even continue with the massage? I wouldn't if I were her. So I HAD to improvise. I moved my face just enough to the side so that I got a little wipe on the sheet covering face rest. I had to do this three times over about 10 minutes and she must have noticed because she asked if my head position was uncomfortable. I lied and told her no! I just had a hair in my face. She bought it! Luckily, for the second half of the massage I was face up so now gravity was in my favor. But ew. Boogs in the throat wasn't any better.

Advice: If you have are feeling ill, and you have a massage appointment, stuff your nostrils with tissue before you lie down. There's nothing worse than paying good money to worry about snot.