I think it is obvious at this point that I have my pet peeves. Rather than dissect my laundry list of issues with others, I will concentrate on just one; eye contact. Worse than a hand shake from a cold, clammy, dead fish; I cannot stand it when people do not look at me when engaged in conversation. I am an eye person anyway. Some woman like full lips, tight butts, strong arms, long hair, etc. The first thing I notice on someone of either sex is their eyes. The infamous “they” have said that the eyes are the window to the soul. I am not sure if that is true, but I believe they can tell a lot about a person.
When I first meet someone I can tell how they feel about themselves by whether or not they look at me when introduced, and for how long. Eye contact tells me they are confident but not necessarily cocky. If they look at me too long I can get a little creeped out. You know what I am talking about; that guy that is still looking at you well after the introduction is over and you are looking at the introducing party. Weirdo.
When I am talking to people I also pay attention to how often they look away. It is one thing to get distracted by someone or something going on the room; especially if in a public place. I too can get distracted by shiny objects.However, if I am having a one on one conversation and the other person looks away often, I start to wonder what they are hiding. I read once that “A person who is looking to his left is accessing the memory; he is trying to recall the facts before relaying them to you. A person who is looking to his right is accessing the creative part of the brain. He is inventing a version of events or story to tell you.”I rarely pay attention to the direction someone is looking, I just get irritated they are not paying attention to the conversation.It’s just a mutual respect thing.
The one part of eye contact that we have no control over is the size of our pupils. In 1975, a study discovered pupils do more than simply react to light. When we are interested in the person we are talking to or the subject we are talking about, our pupils get bigger. When we’re bored, they get smaller. To verify this, next time you’re hanging out with a friend or significant other, talk about something you know he finds interesting, then suddenly change the subject to changes in this year’s tax laws and watch his pupils change. I have tried this with hubs and can verify the validity.What do you think I chose as my subjects?
So I am a little late on the new year resolutions but better late than never I suppose.I started working out with some family and friends last week and decided to throw in another test of my self control.As if getting up at 5:30 in the morning isn’t enough to make me cranky, I thought cutting out caffeine would add some “excitement”. Imagine if you will, being shocked out of bed by the alarm at o’ dark thirty.What is the first thing you want?Coffee.Of course on the way to the garage I pass my beloved Keurig as it looks at me longingly. Have you ever broken up with someone without warning only to be punished because you have to see them everyday and lack the balls to confront them? That is me and my Keurig. I dislike confrontation so I keep walking with my head down in shame.
First let’s get the “why” out of the way: I drink way too much caffeine.Ask anyone that sees me on a daily basis.My breakfast is a red bull and I am rarely without a cup of my favorite coffee in hand. Coffee is the only bean that I let cross my lips. It cannot be good to constantly have a mood altering stimulant in me at all times;there is a reason hubs calls me a hummingbird on crack.
Now for the “how”: Not sure what I expected but it wasn’t this.I have not had one headache but oh my god I swear if I sit for more than 10 seconds I will fall asleep and need a cattle prod to wake me.The first few days were easier than the last couple of decades.Saturday we had two birthday parties to attend; one fortunately served beer so I had a moment of peace. The other had lots of sugar so I was able to get my fix by consuming my weight in cake and punch.Yesterday was no fun for anyone at our house.; cranky mommy arrived.I did not realize there were so many places to get coffee in this town.Each one of them taunting me more with their drive through signs and aromas that could be smelled for miles.As I entered the gym today I even noticed they had red bull in the drink fridge!What the hell!I am not good with temptation but kept walking.After all, at this point I am too stubborn to give in.
I am not sure how long I will last.I give myself another hour or so before I head to meet a client and pass a coffee shop.It is true; all the stuff that is bad for us is the stuff we want the most.What is your vice?
When hubs and I first “hooked up” he had a king sized bed. I can’t really call it a bed; he had a king sized mattress on the floor in his bedroom (read: Bachelor Pad). I loved that bed; plenty of room to spread out and get comfy, but you could still meet in the middle when you wanted.
When it came time to move hubs out of his house and into my place, the relationship I once had with the king changed. You see back then, hubs and I moved ourselves; we were not as fortunate as we are today to have selfless friends and family that are willing to spend an afternoon sweating and grunting while breaking their backs to help us move. Back then, we did not have the smarts, or funds, to hire two convicts and a truck to pack the truck for us. Back then, it was me and the mattress. After wrestling with the king for what seemed like nearly eternity, I convinced the man that the best, if not only way to get it out of the house was through the window; and its landing spot became its resting spot.
Upon moving in with me, hubs had no choice but to accept his fate; he would have to sleep on a queen mattress. As far as I am concerned the queen offers more possibilities than the king to meet in the middle when we choose. If you ask Brad though, he doesn’t really get his own space. He swears he has about two inches on his side of the bed.
There is a perfect explanation for this; I am a snuggler. Not the “hold me” kind of snuggler mind you; I just like to have some part of my body touching his while we sleep. An ankle over his ankle would suffice but that is just not conducive to sleeping on my side (and isn’t it all about me?). So we spoon; Brad clinging to the edge of the bed and me breathing down his neck. Paints quite the picture doesn’t it? Hubs would be perfectly content if we did not touch at all while sleeping; he claims I give off too much body heat or something lame like that.
Funny thing is, I sleep so much better when Brad is gone. I wake up in the exact same position I fell asleep and barely have to make the bed due to lack of ruffled covers. When Brad is home; we toss and turn and the covers are all tangled and twisted. As a neurotic bed maker it drives me nuts. Maybe I am unconsciously getting back at him by only giving him two inches of space in the bed?
In every relationship there is a big spoon and a little spoon. I happen to be the big spoon. Which are you?
I think it is obvious at this point that I have my pet peeves. Rather than dissect my laundry list of issues with others, I will concentrate on just one; eye contact. Worse than a hand shake from a cold, clammy, dead fish; I cannot stand it when people do not look at me when engaged in conversation. I am an eye person anyway. Some woman like full lips, tight butts, strong arms, long hair, etc. The first thing I notice on someone of either sex is their eyes. The infamous “they” have said that the eyes are the window to the soul. I am not sure if that is true, but I believe they can tell a lot about a person.
So I am a little late on the new year resolutions but better late than never I suppose.
When hubs and I first “hooked up” he had a king sized bed. I can’t really call it a bed; he had a king sized mattress on the floor in his bedroom (read: Bachelor Pad). I loved that bed; plenty of room to spread out and get comfy, but you could still meet in the middle when you wanted.
