Like Lazarus…

Watch Me Juggle is back.

IMG_9013
        No, I haven’t gotten any better at juggling my life, thank you for asking. Perhaps quite the opposite, but life does carry on as usual in it’s fascinating chaos. Over the many, many months that have passed, I was struck with the inability to write. The dreaded Writer’s Block. Actually, scratch that. I kept writing. My Gmail inbox is full of weird drafts of half-finished thoughts all entitled “(no subject).” Don’t worry, dear reader, all these embarrassing musings will all see the light of day soon. One of my favorite artists, Emily McDowell, has an accurate depiction of what the creative process looks like:
IMG_9264
        Endless loops of “I have no ideas, and I hate everything” coupled with the ever-present “you’re totally ridiculous and no one wants to hear what you have to say.” But, these things happen, and that’s ok.
        Sometimes you have to be ok with not being ok and just sit in that in a while, as un-fun as it is. For me, the hardest thing is simply having to admit when things aren’t going well. This is especially hard in this social media, oversharing, humble-bragging age when everyone is up to their eyeballs in everyone else’s business.  Everyone is just trying to market themselves in a way that looks good to everyone else, and no one puts anything real out there. A good friend of mine recently told me that she thinks that I just might be too good at being “fine.” When people ask me how my day is going, sometimes they get a “It’s goooooood” with an odd, lilting intonation. The word “good” should never be squeezed out of you. If I do this to you, what it really means is “OMG, I’m keeping it together. I’m here and I have clothes on, so it can’t be that bad, right? Except my brain is telling me that the walls are on fire and the ceiling is on fire, and everything’s on fire because I’m in hell, but that’s fine.” Watch closely and my face will usually give this away. Not writing was another way to not deal with the scary things in life.  Being alone with my thoughts was the last thing I wanted to do this year, and putting them down in words for strangers on the internet to see was an even more daunting task.
        I’m 30 years old now and I don’t think I have any of the answers I magically should by now. (It’s magic, right? That’s how it works?) I don’t think my childhood self could even comprehend that one day I would actually turn 30, so at least I don’t have those large, whimsical expectations to live up to. But, the things I can control, I do. This year, I checked many, many things off of my “things to do in life” list. I celebrated my 30th birthday with the most ridiculous parties in Las Vegas. I went to Mexico on vacation, I invested in a beautiful piece of artwork, went to the gym a hell of a lot more, met some wonderful new people, and said ‘yes’ to doing so many new things. I’m still navigating life just the same as any of the rest of us, but I’m trying to do so with a little style and strength. This blog is one of the ways I like to do that. And like I always say…
IMG_9163
Until next time,
EVA♥
Advertisements

Holiday Roundup

Hello everyone!

She’s back, ladies and gentlemen! I’m sure you all can commiserate with how hectic the holidays can be sometimes. I’m sure you’ve all also had that feeling where things get so hectic, that, rather than doing anything productive, you end up sitting around your house doing absolutely nothing. This is the obvious solution, yes? I’ve certainly experienced this phenomenon to a degree lately, and find that sometimes the best way to cope with the “Holiday Hangover” is to give into the urge to do laze about and do nothing. When I wasn’t working, or at some sort of holiday party, I was napping. My coworkers once found me curled up in a ball, under a makeup table between shows, asleep. While this isn’t the most productive way to deal with stress, I found that all the extra sleep did prevent me from getting the plague, and also slowed me down enough that I wasn’t overbooking my schedule as I so often like to do.

The 2016 holiday season passed me by in a sort of blur. I did manage to get myself together enough to send out ridiculous Christmas cards (as is tradition), which spurred an impromptu photo shoot in the hallway of my building, complete with my Christmas tree and…(wait for it)…my new Louboutins! Sure, my house was a complete mess of discarded shoes, shopping bags, and half-drunk bottles of wine, but I’d like to think that I managed to adult my way through life just fine for the last few weeks.

fullsizerender-21

fullsizerender-28

Some step-and-repeat action at the annual Tree Lot Party.

fullsizerender-29

All of my people in one place at Smuin’s “Christmas Ballet.”

img_6394

img_6409 img_6454
Santa brought me a Christmas Eve sweetheart!

Even though I’ve felt utterly unproductive these past few days, I’ve been unendingly grateful to the people who have stuck by me through a rather rough holiday season. Let’s face it, it’s not all it’s always cracked up to be, but it’s the people who support and encourage you in life that make it all worthwhile. Just a kind word or simple conversation can make all the difference in a person’s day. (It certainly has for me!) So happy (belated) holidays! I’m still not done being festive here in Watch Me Juggle-land, and yes, I do still have my Christmas tree up. Here’s to the next year! May there be many more adventures.

EVA♥

Drinks & German Charades

Hello all,

Today, I wanted to write about a little phenomenon I’ve encountered. I’m not sure if I’m entirely abnormal, but I find that, having grown up multilingual, I no longer entirely trust myself to switch from language to language accurately. They all seem to blend together, and I constantly want to substitute one language with another in the same sentence. Even when I reach a certain level of comfort, I second guess myself. During my last trip to Austria, I discovered a bit of a solution.

You see, I just need a few drinks and then my German comes out just fine. In moments of uncertainty, I don’t have a problem asking for help if there’s a word I can’t remember or simply don’t know. The not knowing is always inevitable. I mean, when you’re learning a language, who the hell covers things like “Help! The fuse blew in the basement”?

img_6242img_6259

 Sans drinks, I have a crippling fear of speaking to people like a cave woman, and by this I mean using improper grammar or inadvertently offending someone. The fully sober me will get ready to concoct a sentence, and then the voice in my head yells “THAT’S NOT GRAMMATICALLY CORRECT! Everyone in this country thinks you’re an idiot!” So I’m forced to limit my speech to disjointed sentences or one word answers. “Yes. The food is delicious. No, I’m not at all cold.” It’s quite telling that the one phrase I find myself repeating over and over in a variety of languages is “No, really, I’m full.” This can probably be attributed to the fact that I come from a group of  universally stocky people, who I’m sure secretly harbor the thought that I’m a strange human twig who’s slowly and deliberately starving themselves into nothing. No matter how much food I shovel in, they insist I need to eat more. On my European side of the family this philosophy unfortunately (or fortunately) also applies to alcohol. I can’t honestly think of another family where “You have to finish the whole bottle!” Is an acceptable thing to say to one person…on a Tuesday evening. There’s also half a cake you’re going to have to put away if you want to make it out alive. Try not to fall down on your way out to the car. Given that there are no  streetlights and a lot of ditches you can fall into, this makes this normal task about 800 times trickier. 

fullsizerender-26

One evening, after describing what an avocado was to my grandmother for a short period of time, I finally figured out that the German word for avocado was “avocado,” but with a German accent. I’m considering the 10 minutes of my life that I spent performing some sort of weird German charades a total waste. I wrangled all of my vocabulary together to attempt to relay the message: “No, it’s not a fruit, it the other thing… It’s soft, and green, and has a big seed thing in the middle. They put it in sushi!!” (Because sushi is a great reference point for people who have lived in the Austrian countryside their whole lives and still slaughter pigs in their yard.) This was all followed by me making the shape of an avocado repeatedly in the air, like it was going to help. Granted when you’re have two beers and fours glasses of wine in you, it seems really effective. 

Despite having spoken it for the better part of my life, I still find that German is not an easy language. But, sometimes, things are a lot simpler than they seem. A bit of liquid courage can help and not being afraid to fail is always a good start. 

EVA♥

Adventures in Güssing

Hello all!

As many of you know (or might have guessed from my last post), I visited my family in Austria just a few weeks ago. My last trip was in spring of 2013, and was a bit of a whirlwind involving a van full of friends and a trek across the country. Comparatively, this most recent trip was quite a bit more laid-back, with the largest thing on the agenda being my grandmother’s 80th birthday at one of the many the local Buschenshanks, or wine taverns. The party lasted until 1am, complete with a ton of food, dancing, and live music courtesy of my great uncle Franz and his friend Rudy.

 My family’s hometown is what one might refer to as rural. It’s not out of the ordinary for people to have livestock on their property, and unpaved roads are somewhat commonplace. Cellphone service can be quite spotty, as it’s so close to the Hungarian border that you could easily stumble across it without realizing. Güssing, a relatively small town of approximately 250 households, is honestly quite hard to find on a map. But, like most of Europe, it boasts a rich history, as is evident by the ruins of the 13th century castle that overlook the town. For me, it’s always been a place to unplug and indulge in some nostalgia. I ate my favorite foods and read half a dozen books in my grandmother’s kitchen. I know that change is guaranteed each visit, as my trips have gotten so few and far between as I’ve gotten older.

img_6313

img_6280-1

Yes, they wore lederhosen. It’s almost a requirement when playing that much polka music.

fullsizerender-25 img_6208 img_6268-1 img_6252 img_6264-1 fullsizerender-24

I try to appreciate Güssing for what it is. It’s especially quiet and charming during the winter months, when you can find Christmas markets in just about every town in the neighboring region. While we may have high-speed internet here in the Bay Area, they have warm mugs of Glühwein and roasted chestnuts on every corner, which is a fair trade-off, in my humble opinion. It’s very much a place to reset, indulge a bit, and contemplate life(or in my case, attempt to revive some very rusty German…more on this later). It may not be the most glamorous or exotic of vacations, but it’s special nonetheless.

EVA♥

Thoughts from a Jet-Lagged Brain

Hello all!

Watch Me Juggle is back in the lovely state of California once again. As much as I enjoy my world travels, I’m happy to be back in the land of unending wifi and to-go cups of coffee. Before I essentially force all of you to look at my vacation photos, I thought I would share some of the utter nonsense that crossed my mind during my travels. While I knew before now that jet-lag existed, I never remembered experiencing it with such…intensity. Coupled with an abrupt break from an intense work schedule and the general unpredictability of air travel, it was like someone had turned the filter off of my ability to think rationally.

fullsizerender-18

Take my foray through airport security for instance. As I stepped out of the X-ray machine and moved to put my jacket back on, a TSA agent took me aside. I had had blood drawn earlier that day, and the band-aid was still firmly plastered to my arm. It was at this point the agent asked to see my bandaid. I tentatively stuck out my arm, wondering what could have aroused her suspicion so much that my band-aid was questionable. I was tempted to pull it off and hand it to her, but something about that felt socially unacceptable. While I’m on the topic of socially unacceptable behavior, a friend of mine recently informed me that people are statistically more apt to cry on planes. I’m grateful that she shared this with me, because about two hours into my flight, I found myself having the following inner-dialogue:

Brain: This movie has feelings. Cry. Now.
Me: No brain. I’m in public, and on a plane. This is not only socially unacceptable, but makes everyone, including me, uncomfortable. 
Brain: Cry now.
Me: It’s “Finding Dory” for God’s sake. Seriously?! A children’s movie about a fish— they don’t even have facial expressions! What are we crying about?! 

 

Luckily, my brain compromised, and instead allowed me to pretend I had mascara in my eyes for 15 minutes. I’ve decided that jet lag is a bit like being drunk. Except it’s not at all fun, and you have to be out in public with your grandma whilst pretending you know what’s going on around you. Let’s not forget constantly feeling like you can’t blink and might fall over.

img_6232

I tried to force myself to adapt to the time zone as much as possible. I stayed up late and had after dinner drinks in an effort to coax myself to sleep. Instead, I found myself wide awake, either reading or typing nonsense on my phone in the middle of the night. I’m just glad I saved enough of these thoughts so I could share the bizarre nonsense that is me at 1am. I hope you find them as strangely amusing as I did. So, without further ado, I give you thoughts from my jet-lagged brain:

  • I can only have one arm above my covers when sleeping. Not two. Two and the monsters will get me. None, and I will suffocate. I’m serious. It’s science…or something. 
  • When on family vacations, always sleep in a room with a door that locks. Lest you wake up with your grandmother sitting on the end of your bed asking you what you would like for breakfast or someone’s hand in your face (my mother recently pulled this and scared the living daylights out of me). When there someone who isn’t you, in your space. They can be one of two things: an intruder or a well-meaning intruder checking to see if you’re still breathing. Either way, this is not reassuring in any sense. Boundaries people. We have them. 
  • When I die, I want to be cremated and have my ashes mixed with biodegradable glitter (the kind they make out of seaweed). It would be a gorgeous and environmentally friendly sendoff. There also needs to be drinks. 
  • European churches are really intense. Sure, there’s gold and stuff, but where did all the decorative skulls come from? It’s good that we teach kids about death, but if I had been exposed to graphically crucified Jesus so much as a child I would have been slightly traumatized. Also, with all this intensity I half expect the “Shame!” lady from “Game of Thrones” to come after me at any moment. 
  • Do people’s’ ribcages move around? For example, does one side ever get stuck overlapping on the other? Because I feel like mine does, which would explain the awkward uneven sticking out it tends to do. I know there’s a lot of cartilage in there, but it’s level of pliability is questionable. It has a job that needs doing. 

And, lastly:

  • What if the Internet breaks and all my writing disappears? Must check on writing.  Must print out hundreds of pages of nonsense too, just in case. 

 

EVA♥

It’s Just a Hat…

Hello everyone, 

Today, I wanted to share a bit of a personal story. Since last Tuesday, I feel like an awful lot of people have had a lot of things to say. My Facebook feed has been completely taken over by political statements, jokes, and links to opinion pieces. I didn’t want to write another one. I’ve had a very strong reaction to everything that’s been going on, and while I know I live a very privileged and safe life here in California, I couldn’t necessarily pin-point what exactly I was feeling and why. 

img_4848

It’s just a hat. 
Over the last 48 hours, the little voice in my head says that on repeat. It’s just a hat, it’s nothing to worry about. It’s an accessory, it shouldn’t matter so much, but it does…

 For those of you who don’t know me away from my little corner of the internet, there’s a bit of craziness in my family. And by craziness, I mean, we’re 100+ Afghan immigrants strong, with the exception of a few people (myself and my European-born mother included). Some fairly awful circumstances forced them out of their homeland, and now here they are, some 35 years later, calling California home.
 
When I was younger, no one knew where to find Afghanistan on a map. I would, quite literally, have to point it out to them. This quickly changed, and the world I found myself living in post 9/11 seemed decidedly divided. I stopped conversationally telling people where my family was from— I never knew what their reaction was going to be. As a teenager, my parents protected me from peoples’ more horrendous opinions of who we were. I went from my peers smiling and peering curiously at my naan sandwiches, to absorbing the awkward silences that followed the statement that I was, in fact, Middle Eastern.
 
 Last week, as I was dropping my parents off at the airport for a very well-timed vacation, I couldn’t ignore my anxiety. Irrationally, I worried that my father, a Muslim immigrant with an Arabic first name that no one could pronounce, and my mother, a resident alien since the 80’s, might not be able to get back home. I even joked about this with my coworkers in an attempt to mask a deep-seated fear. As they say, some things are only humorous because they point out evident truths: “It’s funny because it’s true!” I laughed because it was better than crying over something that felt like a very real possibility. I still couldn’t forget my father’s hushed tones on the phone late Tuesday night: “We are citizens. This is our home. He can’t legally keep us out.” Like so many people, I’m worried for my family, for those who didn’t speak English very well, dressed differently, and didn’t assimilate like they were “supposed” to. 
 
As I drove up to SFO’s international terminal, my parents and I debriefed their travel plans. I wanted to know when they had arrived safely, and asked them silly things like why their luggage was so heavy. My dad is always unabashedly himself, to a fault. He never hesitates to crack jokes, even in tense moments or situations. With all his stories and personality, my friends recently remarked that he reminded them of the Dos Equis “Most Interesting Man in the World.” Those who know my dad know his unwavering character and quirks. There are few things you’ll find him without. He’s always up to date on current events. He always has some sort of hard candy in his pockets, and he always wears his hat, a decidedly Afghan pakol— inside, outside, rain or shine. When my dad got out of the car on Wednesday, he was missing his hat. I didn’t think very much of it, at first, and he reassured me that he had packed it away safely in his carry on luggage. He suddenly looked smaller, not like himself. I tried to think not much of it when I spotted the book in his hands, written in Dari, on the history of Afghanistan in the 19th century. I also tried not to think too much of it when I took it from him, and packed that away too, like it was a matter of convenience, like I wasn’t nervous that people would see it. It was just a hat, it’s just a book. Just like a hijab is just a square of fabric. Something that’s, in actuality, just a square of fabric can’t be entirely responsible for starting a worldwide backlash against immigrants.

Today, I couldn’t help thinking of my dad without being deeply sad. He’s come thousands of miles, avoided several wars, and relocated his entire family. To this day, he still helps Afghan immigrants get settled in the United States. The people who are worried about their economy, about unknown “outsiders” coming in and threatening their sense of well-being don’t know people like my dad or my mom. Just as we don’t know them. That’s the fundamental disparity here. I certainly try to. I try to think about a place where people are so frightened of losing their jobs or not being able to provide for their families as the main motivation to look the other way when someone in power actively abuses women, minorities, and people in the LGBTQ community. The sad thing here is that so many people have come to this country to escape similar economic climates and discrimination going on in their own countries. We all fundamentally want the same things in life. 

But now, all I can focus on is my dad’s favorite hat, and the day he felt it might be unwise to wear it. It’s just a hat, but to me it represented a fact that I’ve known all along: that it’s no longer acceptable to unapologetically be who you are. Ironically enough, I had recently been working on a post on about not apologizing for yourself (“I Ain’t Sorry”), and now, all I want to do is apologize for people. I want to apologize to everyone who’s felt marginalized or hurt by the changes in the country over the last few weeks, regardless of your personal politics. I want to apologize for the grief some people have been experiencing. I want to apologize to those people who have experienced enough fear that it shapes who they are and how they interact with others. I’m sorry, everyone. To me, it might not be just a hat, but I’m hoping that one day that’s all it will be.
EVA♥

Five Things

Hello all,

Happy Wednesday! I’m back this week with a long-overdue Five Things! This past few weeks have been a doozy, to say the least. (Yes, I used doozy. I do not regret my word choice.) Luckily, there’s always a bit of silver lining to life; there are always lovely things to observe and share, if you look close enough. This week, I’m sharing a few of these bright spots with you, dear reader. Onward, to Five Things!

img_5890

I recently was lucky enough to see Darren Criss in “Hedwig and the Angry Inch.” I can’t remember the last time I went to a musical, and I’ve decided that I need to do so more often! This show was particularly great: simple, slightly ridiculous, and splendid, all at once.

img_5883-1

If you follow me on Instagram (or take peeks at my feed down below), you might have noticed my latest “treat yourself” purchase from Tiffany. This little love bracelet only recently caught my eye. It’s a bit big on my wrist, but I refused to have it re-sized right when I purchased it. It was the kind of day where I needed a little something shiny and special to take home.

img_5922

As it turns out, my friend Stephanie and I are now Alameda famous! She spotted this photo of us in our town magazine. A few months back, we attended a really lovely benefit for Meals on Wheels at our local Rock Wall Wine Company. I had absolutely no qualms about supporting a great cause at one of my favorite spots on the island.

img_5942

I spotted this display while perusing through a local boutique the other day, and I couldn’t have picked items that seemed more…well, me. I actually own this particular Voluspa candle, but haven’t gotten around to lighting it yet. It’s seems almost too lovely! One day…

fullsizerender-16

I came across the above cartoon while exploring Instagram the other day, and it made me chuckle. In hard times, it definitely helps to laugh at oneself. I’m also incredibly reassured that shopping and alcohol seem to be the common cure for many issues. We are not alone, my friends.

EVA♥

“And then…” she said

Hello all,

Three years ago, I quit my corporate sales job and bought plane tickets to New Zealand. I walked through the office, turned in my badge, and danced next to my car before getting in. I gave myself permission to never look back.

slide_284089_2203190_free

I dreamed of a “Plan B,” a life completely different from the one I was living, different people, a different job, different guy, different home. What would that look like? Plan A wasn’t going so well for me, and sometimes all I felt I had left was Plan B. In an ironic twist of fate, here I am, looking back years later. On a Sunday, three years ago, I posted this blogAnd when I read it again, I get a little choked up. (I’ve been feeling a bit nostalgic lately, can you tell?)
I feel like no one ever really chooses to have their lives go the way they do, and, while we all have choices, there’s only so much you can control.  As one of my dear married friends once wisely told me, people in different stages of their lives just have a different set of problems. Doing things the way you’re “supposed” to doesn’t fix or change any of this. I’m going to admit that I find this to be a somewhat terrifying concept. It’s like the adult equivalent of finding out there is no Santa, no tooth fairy, or Easter bunny. “What do you mean I have almost no control over the things that happen in my life?! WHY?!” I’m convinced that everyone has this epiphany at some point or another. There’s almost a bit of beauty in that— you never know what kind of hand you’re going to be dealt.
As much as I once wanted it to be, my life is not an “and then…”  I’m grateful for it. I try to practice this gratitude every day. Some people in my life don’t understand what my life is, what I do, or why I do it. When they ask me these strangely personal, existential questions, I don’t really have answers for them. At the end of the day, all I know is that my life is exactly the way it should be, and I simply do the things I love doing. I’m lucky enough that I can. If one day, this changes, I can make my own “next steps.”
Until next time,
EVA♥

Time Capsule

Hello everyone!

I feel like it completely dates me, but I recall setting up my Facebook account for the first time using my very new @Umail.UCSB.edu email address. It was the equivalent of an online high school alumni group with basic features, photos, and messaging. Fast-forward several years and Facebook has somehow grown into a multi-billion dollar industry. I would never have even imagined that my job would one day revolve around Facebook. It’s a very odd thing to think about. Speaking of odd things…
Has anyone ever searched “On This Day” on their Facebook recently? You might also know it as the little “memory” window that shows up on your newsfeed first thing on any given day, a social media time-capsule of sorts.  This morning, I was reminded that a year ago today I was given a whole new (retainer-free!) smile.
screen-shot-2016-10-13-at-10-39-52-am
Quite the thing to commemorate! (You can find the post here, if you’re curious about my crazy tooth story.) On the complete opposite end of the spectrum apparently 10 years ago on Facebook I was….
screen-shot-2016-10-13-at-10-40-48-am
What the heck kind of nonsense is this Facebook? 10 years ago, as a sophomore in college, my status was apparently “at home?” Did Facebook even have a status back then? What is that!? I’m still very perplexed by this, and irked that part of me might never know what 19 year old Eva was thinking.
A less perplexing memory came from the year before last, where I was in the midst of a blogging kick, aka “Blogtober,” and finding myself with a little extra time on my hands. Making my very favorite soup is still my favorite way to celebrate the change in weather.
screen-shot-2016-10-13-at-10-40-07-am
Of course, we all have those very deep, quote-filled Facebook moments to look back on. Before Watch Me Juggle, I enjoyed posting the occasional Khalil Gibran or Rumi quote on my page. Seeing this one in particular brought all kinds of memories back…
screen-shot-2016-10-13-at-10-40-37-am
A strange thing happens when you get older that no one ever tells you about. Without school to keep tabs on your life’s progress, everything sort of blends together. The last five years, in particular, feel like an odd blur. While I still live in the same apartment, I’ve worked a variety of jobs, and had people come and go in my life. I’m certainly glad things turned out the way they did.

(She’s back! Juggling away, as always)

Watchmejuggle

EVA ♥

That’s Not How This Works

Hello everyone!

giphy

Today, I have a little Watch-Me-Juggle-style rant for you, dear readers. All of this dawned on me the other day, when I realized I was channeling the lady above. Has everyone seen that Esurance commercial? It depicts an older lady posting her vacation photos to her “wall”— literally the wall of her living room, and verbally “unfriending” her friends.

Over the last month or so, I’ve been repeating the above phrase. While it’s sometimes in awe, sometimes in irritation, I really can’t bottle it in anymore. So, I give you:

“That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works!”

Drivers who drive on the shoulder of the freeway to avoid traffic. I’ve become that person who will edge over to block you. You’re not allowed to make up your own lanes, and cut in front of people in traffic. You’re just not.

 

Manspreading, mansplaining, manterrupting. I do not have time for this. Sit in your seat like an adult and talk to me like an adult, or I will be forced to plop my purse in your lap in protest.

 

Assuming that everyone on Facebook shares your opinions. Please share every offensive thing that comes to mind and don’t think about how it affects people.

 

Refusing to eat the crust of the delicious, fancy bread they serve you at restaurants, just eating the insides, and leaving the rest like bones on your plate. I’m sorry to say I’ve seen this happen. Why?!

 

Those people who refuse to learn new things and prefer to depend on others. My mother used to tell me that learning is a never-ending process that lasts a lifetime. It’s true! (Or should be.)

 

Kids that don’t know how to push buttons. What are you doing with your childhood? Mine pretty much revolved around the moments where adults let me push buttons. Please don’t pet the phone like it’s a touch screen, it makes me sad.

 

Don’t put paper/metal products in the microwave. Sure, I’m guilty of this, but the few times I’ve started small fires in the kitchen, I wish this little old lady had been there to tell me that “that’s not how this works.”

 

Don’t drink those foofy milkshake drinks from your local Starbucks and call it coffee. It is an abomination. Also, it’s dessert, let’s be real.

 

Rant over. That’s all for now, but I’m sure I’ll wake up in the middle of the night having thought of more things to add. That’s really not how that should work. Oh well..

Cheers!

EVA♥