Bestest

My name is Amy and I have an addictive personality.  Borderline obsessive personality.  

I have admitted the problem.  That's the first step right?  

The good news is I'm not addicted to anything illegal.  But, when I start to do something or find something that I like, I become like a hamster in a wheel.

Right now, I'm obsessed with this hand lotion.  It's so amazing it will make you want to slap your mama.  {That is a saying I have stolen from my very southern friend Shelby and is best when said with an extreme Georgian accent}.  The lotion is not greasy.  Not one little bit greasy, but it will turn red - scaly - itchy - eighty year old - dragon looking hands into buttaaa.  A teacher at my school had some that I borrowed one day and it was game over after that.  She ended up just giving me a tub because I'm obsessive and she embraces that about me.  That same teacher also taught me how to make cucumber dill sandwiches.  She's a gem.  And the name of this hand cream  is right up my alley.  Love it.  Over and out.  

I've also started an addiction to this tea.  It's the best tea I've ever had.  At least this winter anyway.  Just the right mix of that dirty tea taste with a hint of citrus.  The problem with being addicted to this tea is that it makes me want to wear yoga pants and sit cross legged on my couch while holding a hot cup between both hands twelve.hours.a.day.  And that just wouldn't be a healthy habit.  So, I allow myself one cup each evening.  Limits are good people.  Especially when you have the obsessive personality.

Bangles.  Not a new obsession but it's still hanging on...I do believe it started at the state fair last summer.  My cousin Erin is the queen of bangles and I jumped on the bandwagon for the last few concerts.  It must have been the clinging and jingling while holding a plastic cup that hooked me.  Now, it's pretty rare for me to not have a stack of some sort of bangle love on my left wrist.  It has to be the left wrist.  The right wrist would be just weird for me. 

James Blunt is my main man right now; in the music realm anyway.  I listen to him all the time.  While I'm chopping vegetables, lesson planning, running, editing, cleaning my toilet, writing, correcting papers, frying eggs...really anytime music is appropriate.  The twangy grit in his voice gets me.  Plus the accent.  An accent is always worth two bonus points.

Happiness.  For the past seven months, I have been actively seeking out feeling happy.  Finding the joy in the everyday.  And what I have realized is this.  When I am consciously aware of that "perfect song on the radio, sun shining in the window, hug from a loved one, content in what I do" feeling in my soul, more of it tends to come my way.  I'm not sure if it's that whole self full-filling prophecy or positive thinking philosophy or what, but I truly believe that the more I pay attention to being happy, the more happy I am.  Simple as that.  I'm to the point now that even when it's a six below zero windchill {so not normal for March} and I'm running uphill on a gravel road with red frostbite cheeks and white frost in my hair...I'm still happy.  However, I will say my lungs are the most happy when it's over. 

Hi, my name is Amy and I have an addictive personality.  Borderline obsessive personality.  Because I have the attention span of a gnat, I'll be in love with all different items next month.  And then those things will become the best ever.  It's just how I roll.

Except the running.  That's not going anywhere anytime soon.