I project feelings of self doubt on my stripped throw pillow and try to placate it by making certain it's stripes are always in the vertical position.
Aidan refuses to drink out of plastic cups because he is sure he can taste other people's left over spit.
I hesitate to use the word obsessed, but I am slightly obsessed with having a fully stocked pantry.
I talk to my cat and he answers.
Tony, my uber-hard working husband, has been known to spend the better part of a day hold up in the bath tub with a good book and nothing for nourishment but pistachio nuts and beef jerky.
Nadia sings every request. Every single request from "can I have a glass of milk to will you read me a book".
I do not have a problem buying black high heels. Actually, it is quite easy for me.
I have zero shame about cutting my hair in the same style as my daughter's and also, without even a pang of shame, look forward to the day that she wears a size 7 shoe so we can share that too.
I fantasize about sorting things...ribbon, utensils, pencils, sheets... but absolutely loath sorting papers of any kind.
Aidan likes to drop the word mundane in casual conversation.
I fell in love with a beautiful owl in a rehabilitation center no bigger than my palm that had eyes the size of dollar coins and have loved all owls ever since.
Tony doesn't like whip cream. Who doesn't like whip cream?
I feel self conscious when people ask me what my favorite color is because the color I love most is crisp, clean, sassy black.
I felt awkward today when a guest speaker in my class described me as normal looking for a woman in the field of science.
I love the strangness that fills our home.