Why I Need Adult Supervision At All Times

1. I am fascinated by shiny metal objects. Take, for example, the metal scrapers that waiters use at fine restaurants. You know, the ones they use to clean the bread and food crumbs from the table cloth after every course. For some unknown reason, they amuse me to no end. Big Dave first noticed this phenomenom in Orlando when we dined at an upscale steak joint. I was the only one jumping up and down in my seat whenever our waiter came to our table and pulled out his scraper. Don't ask me why. I don't have an answer. All I can tell you is if you're ever in a nice restaurant, and you hear someone squeal "Goodie!" when the waiter starts to clear the crumbs, chances are, it's me. Come on over and say Hi. I'll even share my bread with you.

2. I love flame. My husband would call me a pyro, but I'd rather consider myself a amateur candle-enthusiast/fire pit afficienado. There's just something about a controlled flame that's soothing and reflective. That, and my bro was a firefighter, so I'm guessing it runs in my gene pool. Hence, I have no control over this particular weirdness.

3. I hate to cook. It is takes me more than 15-20 minutes to prepare a meal, it will inevitably get burned and/or ruined. Or I will burn myself. I do not have the patience to stand over the stove for an extended period of time. Baking, however, I can do. Probably because I can set the timer for the estimated time frame needed, and come back to check.

4. I can injure myself if given sharp, pointy, or otherwise dangerous objects. Like a butterknife. Or a spork. Somehow, someway, I will accidentally stab, cut or maim myself. It's a sure thing. Acutally, I'm surprised Big Dave hasn't taken over the chore of cutting up my meat. This seems to be a particularly dangerous activity for me.

5. I am not good with directions. Whether putting furniture together or following a recipe, I will at some point ignore the directions. Not good. Sometimes, the results turn out fine. Other times... well.. let's just say it tends to look like a project semi-completed by an idiot. Which reminds me of my favorite idiot joke:

A group of people are gathered in a room, attending a weekly Idiots Anonymous Meeting. One man walks up to the podium and begins the meeting. "Hi, my name is Bob, and I'm an idiot." The rest of the crowed dutifully answers, "Hi Steve!"

6. I'm not as young and spry as I used to be. Let's just say that my coordination and center of gravity has changed over the years. This leads to some interesting events, such as tripping over my own feet, or rolling over my toe with the computer chair (while I'm sitting in the chair). Once, I even managed to hit my head on the inside of the dishwasher. (Don't ask. It's a painful memory). Once, while walking through the living room, I took a nasty tumble and fell flat on my face. Naturally, Big Dave was concerned and rushed to my aid. As he helped me up, he asked what happenend. I told him I tripped on the carpet. He frowned, then said, "But we don't have any carpet in the house." I said, "Well, since it was my face that made contact with the floor, we'll use my version of the story. And I tripped on the carpet." Being the wise man that he is, he said no more.

7. I get excited by the simpliest things. Finding one more cookie in the cookie jar when I expected it to be empty. Watching my cat(s) snore. Finding my favorite movie playing on cable. Big Dave bringing my favorite candy bar from the store. A towel fresh from the dryer. Underwear that doesn't ride up. And a husband who loves me in spite of all my faults.
These are a few of my favorite things.