Dinner in my house was the time of day that my brother, mom and I would gather after school and work to be together. No matter what we were doing, dinner time was family time. We’d turn off the TV and sit at the table. I remember the laughs, the fights and the family meetings that we would have. I remember just how bland my mom’s cooking used to be too. Oh. My. God. Bland is really an understatement; to her benefit, I’d say that it’s improved over the years. Maybe she cooked that way because we were young children, figuring anything seasoned would be rejected very audibly with much exaggeration. As a parent, I am yet to be in the realm of fussy eating but can imagine cooking for two young children must be faced with great trepidation on the best of days.

I am a lover of food. I wouldn’t say that I was a very picky eater growing up, though boiled potatoes and a slab of grey pork; lacking any imagination or even colour to conceal the consistency of the shriveled animal flesh really leaves much to be desired.
I’d say for many years I carried on the cooking habits of my mothers, which I was accustomed to. No seasonings, no imagination.
When I moved to college my diet consisted of Kraft Dinner, spaghetti, Zoodles, chocolate pudding, junk food and alcohol. The only ethnic foods I had ever really enjoyed to this point in my life was Chinese food. That was until I met some people. People that ate. People that had imagination, pizazz - and tasty food!

One thing that made a significant improvement in my limited food selections was moving to the city. This city has more then enough culture to make your head spin. I’ve tried almost everything whether it was a favourite or not is negotiable.

I love to eat. I love everything about food. I love that it’s always there, to comfort, to console, never to pass judgment and will never leave.

I admit it.

I am an emotional eater.

I eat when I am happy, sad, angry, anxious, and depressed.

I have been eating like it’s going out of style for the past 2 weeks. I can’t stop. I think about it a lot, I want everything and anything.

It’s like I’m pregnant, even though I am not.

I contribute it to the overwhelming anxiety over Britney Spears and her manic behaviour as of late. What? You don’t believe me? You don’t think that a celebrity could have that much ply over moi?

You’re right.

It’s work.

I notice a considerable change in my eating habits when I am over worked and stressed.

I’ve had a very busy and extremely overextending couple of weeks with 2 out of 3 members of my department on vacation at the same time. Seems fair right?

Anyone for a snack?

So, how was your weekend? Mine was just fine, thank you.

Friday night was GNO (Girls Night Out) , even though we stayed in at a work friend’s house, I was out of my house, so it counts. She’s just made the conversion from a downtown city girl to the life of a suburban mama; transitioning well I might add. He brand spankin’ new house is so gorgeous, I am in the bowels of jealousy, BIG time. It’s everything that I love, and already she’s done a fantastic job of getting it organized and prettied up. I’m not surprised though, and you wouldn’t be either if you knew her. She’s borderline OCD with her organization; to the point where she gets all hot and sweaty if something it out of place (okay, almost that bad). She does have her own label maker, that’s got to tell you something, right?

Anyway, every time we have a bitch fest get-together at her house, I feel an overwhelming urge to come home and clean. Weird, I know. Maybe it’s the fact that you could eat your lunch off her kitchen floor, hell, even her bathroom floor; but every time I come home, I want a cleaner house. This time was no different.

First thing Saturday morning I had an urge to declutter and clean. It started in my bedroom and worked it way to the basement. There was no particular area that was safe; everything had something wrong with it. But, now, I think I have satisfied this urge for the time being (right now, because I’m tired and getting distracted). I’ve spent about 8 hours or more cleaning over the past two days but feel only slightly better. I need more baskets for storage.

I am a basket freak. Ask Mike, he will vouch for me. Though everything is cluttered and messy most of the time now, I can always find a need for more baskets. Must make a trip to Winners for more baskets.

Damn friends with clean houses. Damn you!

For those that know me, you already understand that it takes very little to amuse me. Farts, burps, Conan O’Brien all get me laughing; but the one thing that makes me laugh, a gut wrenching, side splitting painful laugh is seeing people being tazered. That’s why I have an undying love for the show Cops. Bad boys, bad boy, whatcha going’ do when they come for you?

Tazers are not all that funny themselves, but seeing (and hearing) the people that, unfortunately (for them), have antipathy for an officer of the law, or the law itself. Seeing them flop around like a fish out of water just gets me every time. Especially this guy. I near peed myself watching this video.

I asked Mike to buy me one for Christmas, to my dismay, I got this instead. What a jerk.

I am a little sadistic, I know.

Impulse buy.

Yup, that’s what it was - I’m sticking by it, so don’t doubt me.

I bought more swedish berries today. Yup a 3lb bag of them.