Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Saturday night, Brad took it upon himself to cook some chicken. I was sick and already in bed. And I am not suggesting that, because he is a man, he should not cook. He works outside the home more than I do, so as a person, I feel obliged to do more of the cooking. However, he had a mishap with one of the pans and the gas stove. Needless to say, the smell of burning plastic still permeates the downstairs. We opened all the windows, and I performed my amateur shaman routine with lots of incense, but it still stinks.
On the other hand, this morning I was sleeping on my stomach, and I think I smelled some of Hank's spit up on the bed. It was dry, not like fresh spit up. But, it smelled GOOD. Isn't that the strangest and most adaptive physiological response?! Now, the time Hank actually threw up, that did smell gross to me. And now the poop is not smelling so great to me. But it's not as repulsive as the smell of anyone else's poop. I wonder why it is adaptive that one might find one's own poop or foot smell pleasant. OK, maybe not pleasant, but haven't you ever smelled your own shoe more than once? I have. It's a little like a train wreck. Keep going back for one more smell to make sure that's what it really smelled like.
While watching Monday's DWTS yesterday morning, I had another little epiphany regarding the regarding of the sexiness. Shawn Johnson, the gymnast. (I always want to call her Shaun Jordan, the male, Olympic swimmer). She's 17, and Mark Ballas is about to turn 23 (thank you, Wikipedia). So, it's illegal for them to make out. They are NOT going to make out. But, they ACT like they WANT to make out while they are dancing, knowing that they will NOT make out either while or after they are dancing. ACTING! (Jon Lovitz). So, it's just about ACTING like you might enjoy making out with this person while you are dancing the sexy dance while KNOWING you will not make out. At least that is how I am going to think about it. I tried at my dance lesson last night, not to go that far, mentally, but to get lost in the movement and following. I had some moments of being lost. DID was in a good mood and didn't give me a hard time when I goofed. The double spin in my current bane. Hard!!! I regret not acting or even trying to act in the 7th grade play when I was supposed to be the love interest of Kevin Huey's character. He was killed while riding his bike home from school 2 years later. An extreme example of missing out on life due to fear, (on my part) but the similarity is not lost on me.