If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, She's Going To Want To Redecorate

Do you remember the children's book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? If you give him a cookie, he's going to ask for a glass of milk. He'll want to look in a mirror to make sure he doesn't have a milk mustache, and then he'll ask for a pair of scissors to give himself a trim.... Blah blah blah, basically the point is that one little decision ultimately spawns a series of events, and then you're like "Why even bother?"

Otherwise known as how my family operates. Like, "Oh, should we do X, but first we'd have to do Y. And then Z. Don't forget about 123. Let's just stop now while we're ahead." It drives me crazy.

But I've been using the upcoming Spiros visit to crack the whip and see what can get done from the all mighty "List." (You know how I am about deadlines!)

One very easy item, I thought, would be to get new shower curtain rings for my bathroom because the hooks that have been on there forever fall off every single time I take a shower, and it is the most annoying thing ever (in the book of First World Problems).

And so my mom and I went off to Target in search of a simple solution. It should be noted that my mom and I are mutual Target enablers, and sending us there together is like sending recent gastric bypass patients to an All You Can Eat buffet to test their will power: It's not going to end well.

After we found some suitable rings, we looked down the aisle toward the shower curtains. "Should we get a new shower curtain too?" "Yes!"

But then after we chose what I'm convinced is the most beautiful shower curtain I've ever seen, it didn't really go with our old towels. "Should we get new towels?" "Yes!"

But then those fresh towels would make the worn bathmats look even more downtrodden. "Should we get new bathmats?" "Yes!"

And before we knew it, the whole bathroom was made over.

Y'all, sometimes it pays to be a bossy rodent.

  

 

A Wrinkle In Time & A Few Extra On My Forehead

The BFF and I are rarely in Austin at the same time, and when we are, it's typically for family-focused holidays like Christmas when apparently we don't "need" to see each other all the time. And although last December we spent a fun afternoon walking down memory lane around the UT campus, rarely do we ever chillax in our old hood of Westlake. (If you know Austin, clearly we're both super hood.)

Anyway, I was beyond excited when I found out that her spring break from b-school coincided with me coming back to Austin. Considering I've spent plenty of quality time with my parents lately, I think they're probably glad to have a babysitter around to entertain me.

Much like I've been doing for a decade, on Monday I rolled over to her house in my mom's old car, windows down, blasting hip-hop. Our first stop was Town Lake where we spent three miles gossiping about boys, sharing our hopes and dreams, and avoiding eye contact with bitches from middle school who also happened to be there. (We've come so far in some ways, stuck in concrete in others.)

After running a few errands (it's virtually impossible to find SPF 15 anymore, did you know?) and filling our bellies with Thai food, we arranged to go lay out by her uncle's pool. (Both of us had really under-privileged, pool-less childhoods, wah wah.) As we floated around enjoying the warm weather, I felt like we might have fallen through a crack in time, a Spring Break Vortex to years past when the most pressing concern was who might ask us to prom. (I'm not sad to be past that stage.)

As you can see, tanning has never been our strong suit.
(And please don't judge my puka shell necklace, it was 2002.)

On our way back to her house, The BFF commented on how delicious fro-yo would be. Who was I to say no to a great suggestion like that? Although it's no longer the same TCBY that we used to walk to from school, sitting at those front tables being bombarded by bees reminded me of the good ol' days of when boys ignored us and we didn't understand why. (By good, I mean awkward. And it was because boys are stupid.)

(Side note: Speaking of TCBY, their white chocolate mousse will always be my #1 fro-yo flavor, and since the chain seems to be going extinct, when I spotted one in the Denver airport as I made my way to the gate, I was all "Breakfast!" Too excited to know what I was doing, I shoved my hand in my purse and fished around for what I thought was my credit card. No, it was actually my birth control. Nothing classier than trying to buy fro-yo at 9 am with your BC. Real role model over here, kids.)

Where was I? Oh yeah, an awesome day of regression with my best friend. My favorite part? Listening to her discuss the "science" behind tanning.

The BFF: "Right now at noon the sun's rays are pointing directly down and you burn. Later they are going sideways so we'll get golden."

Me: "Wow, Billy Nye, where'd you learn that?"

The BFF: "My mom. You know I believe anything she tells me."

[After the pool]

The BFF: "You probably shouldn't shower for awhile after you get home so it doesn't mess up your tan."

Me: "That's only if it's fake tanner."

The BFF: "You're sure you can't wash off the sun?"

Me: "Listen to the words that you're saying, and answer your own question."

Love you, bestie! Pick you up at noon?

Accountability, Or, What Is It That I Do All Day?

A few months ago, my mom shared with me the quote, "Accountability is the breakfast of champions." And while my first instinct was to roll my eyes (um, jaded much?), it's been playing in my head ever since.

The truth is, I love deadlines. I also need to have people know what I'm accomplishing, and I sure as hell need some positive recognition for it. (As does pretty much anyone in Generation E - as in Entitlement -  which is what I'm renaming us.)

While I'm definitely not complaining about the lack of work-related stress in my life (considering how soul-crushing it's been at times), I do miss that structured, forced accountability. Let me tell you, it can be a real challenge to get stuff done without someone breathing down your neck.

Although I've always been pretty good about being self-disciplined, when it comes to writing, my brain just has a hard time focusing on getting down to business.

"I didn't watch last night's episode of New Girl yet." "I wonder what great words of wisdom Joanna has to offer today?" "Am I hungry? I could definitely be hungry."

My sabbatical began in mid-January, and as I'm about to enter into my second trimester of worthlessness, my writing recipe is pretty much down to a science: Two-parts whatever to every one-part writing. It's like baking: If you don't follow it precisely then the bread doesn't rise evenly. (Just kidding, what do I know about following recipes, lolz.)

I've started calling my brain the "the Idea Hotel":
There are always vacancies.

Although my adult on-set A.D.D. isn't helping, I like to think of it as giving my ideas time to "marinate" before I fully flesh them out. Whether or not you actually believe that excuse, whatever, but at least I've started making the most of my "non-writing" time. As in, multitasking chores or handling various bill-paying (more like "wedding present buying") tasks while watching TV. 

Sure, no one is giving me a gold medal for any of this (again, I was raised to expect that they would; thanks a lot, mom and dad, for loving me too much), but at least I have something remotely useful with which to respond to the question "What did you do today?" besides "You're looking at it."

For example, yesterday I applied for some more short term health insurance! You're proud of me, right?

PS: While in Denver, I started a first draft of a book. At this rate, it will be available to read in a 2020. Mark your calendars!

This picture is inspirational. 

Matthew McConaughey & Deviled Eggs: Happy Easter From My Family To Yours

This was the first year since I moved to New York in 2008 that I've been home for Easter, and I was so glad I was able to spend it with my family. And Matthew McConaughey and his family. Seriously. They started going to my my parents' church. Camilla was wearing a hat. It was amazing.

Then my dads sisters and their husbands came over for a delicious lunch. While it was great to catch up with them (and field questions about the impending Spiros visit next week!), it was all very adult. I know, I know, Easter isn't really about bunnies, baskets, and egg hunts, but I won't deny that I love those traditions too.

Some of my favorite memories growing up were spending Easter at my grandparents' house on Lake Marble Falls. They had a beautiful, wide lot full of gorgeous flowers (I was definitely channeling my inner Grandma Connie with all my gardening last week!), and those Easter egg hunts were the stuff childhood dreams are made of.

Weren't they adorable? 

So, since we don't have any little ones around to entertain us, I spent the afternoon seeing how many Deviled Eggs I could eat without getting sick. (In first grade we had to do a "how to" project and I chose to make Deviled Eggs because I was a weird kid. So much has changed!)

The answer is nine, but the day isn't over.

Hope y'all had nice holiday weekends too. (And Happy Passover to my favorite Chosen One, Shawn!)

My momma sure can set a purdy table, huh?

Nothing says spring to me like stargazer lilies and pretty tulips! 

Getting Back To Nature

Over the course of my life, I've had a rocky relationship with nature. (Ha, rocks are part of nature, get it? Almost as good as the pun my Aunt Barb sent me today about "egging" her on about Easter pranks. Guess it runs in the family!)

Anyway, as a child I remember my mom always pushing us to go outside. "Turn off the TV, we're going on a nature hike," she'd say. 

"Ugh, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, you're the meanest mom in the world! Please let me finish this level of Super Mario!!" we'd whine. 

Incidentally my video game prowess ended with that purple and gray console as did me following my mother's wishes. (Surely I'll have the brattiest kids based on karma.) 

You have to be a real asshole not to appreciate this backyard.

Which I obviously am.

So the outdoors and I took a break from one another. Sure I'd go skiing or to the beach, but that green stuff surrounding our house had little to no appeal to me. Dirt, tall grass, bugs, and heaven forbid snakes (eeeeek!) made my skin crawl.

Turtles, however, have always been okay in my book.  

It wasn't until I moved to New York where I was surrounded by 99.9% concrete that I started to finally appreciate what I was missing. The grass is always greener! (Literally.) 

That being said, it wasn't until recently that I actually wanted to get my hands dirty. Much like how years of Food Network educational osmosis taught me to be proficient in the kitchen, hours and hours spent watching HGTV and DIY Network in Denver left me with plenty of inspiration for projects when I got back to Austin. 

First, I needed to get the go-ahead from the parental unit. (I mean, it is their house after all.) And standing in my way was "the list." There are quite a few things that have needed to be done around the house for years. Most are unsexy but incredibly important tasks that fall on my dad's shoulders (the man can fix anything; this week it was the AC), and then there are the things my mom and I want to do. 

There is definitely a disconnect between the two of us and my father when it comes to projects. We readily admit we can both be impulsive, which is not helped by our incredibly short attention spans. As you can imagine, this drives my engineering "let's draw out some plans and think it through logically" dad crazy. Luckily he's been around us long enough (36 years, 26 years respectively) to know that we do what we want. 

The end result? I've spent this week getting on my outdoors. I'm talking landscaping, gardening, rock placing, and weed pulling. I went to a Home Depot AND a Lowes in one day?! Is that a record? (For me, yes.) I have to say, our hard work has paid off. Sure it's not perfect, but what in life is?

My mom and I dominated laying that flagstone rock way.

After I was done, I made these plants swear that they were going to live forever!

Me: "Uh, hey, these rocks might look better as a border, than you know, in that giant pile..."

So here I was, smug in all of our accomplishments, proud of myself - not just for the end results - but for getting outside of my comfort zone. Not only that, I was enjoying myself, even though the end result required three consecutive days of showering (unheard of!). "I can handle anything!" I told myself.

And do you know what happened next? 

I sat in a f*cking pile of worms. 

My mom had stumbled on some as we planted. "We should keep these in case Emily [my sister-in-law]'s nephews come over to fish," she mused. So she set some on the driveway as she continued digging a hole for our next sprig of monkey grass. 

No less than five minutes later, I plopped down to top off the top soil for said plant. No less than five seconds after that, the wildest scream that has escaped my body in years filled the air. 

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! The worms!!!! F*ck!!!!" 

My relationship with Mother Nature: One step forward, two steps back.

Side note: I don't want to say the day I learned I could drop the F-bomb in front of my parents without getting executed on the spot was the best day of my life, but it was a good day.

Side note II: My new goal in life is to be on a home-makeover reality show. YOU GOTTA DREAM BIG, KIDS! 

Conversations With My Grandma: Jason Segel's Love Life Edition

Dolo: "I totally know what you mean about Kristen Bell. I thought she was a brat too because of that role. And you're right about Forgetting Sarah Marshall. It was under-appreciated when it came out. It's so good! I watch it whenever it's on TV, which it always is."

Me: "Me too! And I've been meaning to tell you, I heard Jason Segel has a new girlfriend. It's, oh shoot, what's her name. You know, My Week with Marilyn." [My brain just kept saying "Jenn-eh-fuh" over and over again in the grandmother's voice from Dawson's Creek. Lot of good that did me.]

Dolo: "Michelle Williams! Oh, I just love that! They would be great together!"

Me: "Yeah, I mean he seems like a great guy, and she has that adorable daughter. I feel like Heath Ledger would approve of Jason helping raise Matilda if it came to that."

In terms of step-dads, Jason and his puppets would probably be pretty awesome

Dolo: "I'm so glad you turned me on to how cute Jason Segel is. I just love him in everything."

Me: "I'm glad that our multi-generational celebrity crush has moved on from Hugh Grant to someone more worthy."

Dolo: "Well, maybe just more contemporary. Hugh is getting pretty old." [Don't worry, the irony of my octogenarian grandmother calling Hugh old was not lost on me.] 

Me: "But you know, even though I like Jason and Michelle together, I'm still kind of sad if he's not waiting around for me."

Dolo: "I don't think you're one to talk."

Me: "Oh right."

I assume everyone had conversations with their grandparents about this topic too, right?

So Long, Shawn

Since we met in middle school, Shawn has always held a special place in my heart. She's fun, outgoing, smart, ambitious, and generous. None of that has changed, but since I arrived in Denver, I can see a lot of other differences in Shawn.

Having just graduated from law school last spring, her quarter-life crisis stage is hitting her later than those of us who got our master's degrees from the school of hard knocks. (Valedictorian, what what?.) But instead of wallowing in the "what am I doing with my life?" depression that sunk the best of us, Shawn has spent the effort to pin-point the specific areas of her life that needed a makeover in order to be successful long-term.

Most outwardly noticeable, she has worked hard to totally change her outlook toward eating healthy and exercising. I'm so proud of how hard she has worked to learn a new way of living, one that will be sustainable in the long term. There is nothing is worse than watching someone on a diet you know will fail (unless it's your arch nemesis), but this was the opposite. It was inspiring!

So much emphasis is placed on physical health, but I think emotional health is just as important. Shawn has worked on setting boundaries with relationships, realizing when other people's opinions overtake her own (something most of us could use to work on).

I'm just so proud of my Shawny Shawn. Change ain't easy, but she makes it look like it is.

It makes me sad to leave her - I've had so much fun with her as my roommate. I'll miss our yoga classes, our bad reality TV show watching, our coco dusted roasted almond eating (seriously delicious), and watching the cats do silly things.

Thanks for letting me be vagabond squatter! It was cray....zy.

Also I stole one of the cats. I'll let you figure out which one.