Wednesday, January 18, 2012

I like, I don't like

I like:
Efficient people.
Being feminine.
Real, authentic Mexican food.
My tan (or should I say khaki?) Target trench coat. Best purchase all winter. I wear it almost everyday.
Being good to my body.
That I had each of my babies in the spring and early summer.
White kitchen cabinets, black granite counter tops.
Cupcakes, brownies and cake. And cookies. I am more of a baked dessert kind of gal.
My iPhone 4.
Movie theater popcorn.
Curtains and drapes. They add color and dimension to a room.
My choice in a husband. We have been through quite a bit together.
Subway tile.
Sky lights.
Getting my eyebrows waxed.
Birth control pills.
Having a real feeling of my life having purpose and knowing exactly why I do what I do.
My own barbecue sauce.
My food processor shredding disc.
Long dinners at fancy restaurants with my husband. 
Nail polish. Usually somewhere in the red spectrum.
Leather shoes.
Watching my 6 year old learn to read and write this year.
Swearing. It's my front row, backstage pass to hell.
Cooking. And baking, sort of. 
Getting things in the mail besides bills.
People that can write comically.
Roast chicken. Made by Ethan. 
Open blinds in the morning.
That my wedding ring is two-toned, both white and yellow gold.

I don't like:
Breastfeeding. Never did, not for a second.
Toms and Crocs. You already know about the Toms, but Crocs too.
Cheese and mushrooms.
Being sick.
Period dramas.
Home crafts. I like a more classic look instead of a homemade one.
The excuse people have of not participating in the Mormon church because of the culture.
Trashy, mindless television.
That we got married so quickly. We would have enjoyed dating each other more and growing up a little more.
Ombre hair coloring.
Fast food and chain restaurants.
Copy cats.
My teeth.
Derogatory use of the word "gay".
Scary movies.
Giant bows and flowers on baby's heads. Even if you still put those on your baby, I still like you and your baby.
Racist jokes.
My impatience.
Anchovies. Too strong.
Canned whipped cream.
Taking my kids out to a restaurant.


  1. You. Me. Swearing. Same. Save me a seat, please. I'll just be getting the marshmallows ready for roasting.

  2. I am so there with you on the giant bows and flowers on babies heads. Seems silly to me. I don't get it. Canned Whip Cream...nasty! My impatience, well, it's out of control.