not willingly rocking a mohawk

I knew that when I got pregnant my hair would stop falling out and get all thick and luxurious. And it did and it was a-mazing! I've never had thick shiny hair and for 9 months I did. I'm not saying it was an equal trade for all the puking I did, but it was nice.

Of course, then I had the kid and everyone told me "Just you wait, your hair is going to fall out in clumps!" Thanks friends! I was sleep deprived and terrified I would wake up one morning looking like jparks. I would sit with Truman for our 2am feedings and think about how any second I would hear a little poof and watch all my hair flutter away from my head.

But then nothing happened. And a few more months past and still nothing. Then one day I was in the shower and I looked down at the drain to see that it was so covered in hair, water was actually having trouble draining. Just like that, everyone's predictions came true and my hair was falling out by the fistful. I went to my previously made hair appointment and my hair dresser actually laughed at how much hair I had loss. "You've got a receeding hair line!" she joked, but then promised me that it would mostly grow back.

Fast forward four months and this is the shitty situation I have going on on my head:


Right down the whole length of my part I have a frizzy mohawk. Along my forehead hairline I have baby bangs and little fuzzy patches at each temple. It is not pretty. Last night I caught jparks staring at it instead of looking at me while we were talking. It truly sucks.

Whenever I complain about something pregnancy related jparks likes to ask me "Was Truman not worth it?" This usually shuts me right up because unfortunately, yes he was worth it. But dammit, did having him have to screw with my hair?

frank!

Well after all that back and forth over moving to Austin I have made up my mind. I am moving to Austin and I plan to live in the back room of Frank. And if they won't let me live there, then I'll live in the pay parking lot next door. It's affordable, $6 per day so only $186 for a month's rent. What a bargain!

But let's back up. What's Frank? It's a proud purveyor of pork and its tasty friends.


Translated it means they serve artisan hot dogs, fancy drinks, and are my kind of people. God bless the Waverlies for telling me about Frank.

I started with a summer soda which was served in a mason jar. I think I'm correct when I say that anything served in a mason jar tastes better. Also, I plan on going home and breaking all my barware and replacing it with mason jars. Once I do that you're all invited to come over for summer sodas.


After boudin fritters and green chile chorizo cheese fries appetizers I had a Carolina Pork It, which is a Vienna beef sausage, stuffed with cheese, wrapped in BACON and deep fried, grilled coleslaw, and house made green chile pimento cheese. It was as good as it sounds and I ate it in about three huge bites.


You would think all of that would stuff me, but I still made room for the Frankencookie.


I know savory and sweet desserts aren't for everyone but holy hell, this one did it for me. It's warm house made chocolate chip, pecan, walnut, cranberry and bacon cookie, scoop of Amy’s coffee ice cream, and candied bacon crumbles. It really was the perfect ending for the meal.

The weather here has been beautiful and the property is actually affordable but it's Frank that won me over. So yeah, it appears I'll be moving to Austin.

if only I could make up my mind

Earlier this year I mentioned that jparks and I were toying with the idea of moving to Austin and now I find myself in Austin, scouring real estate listings real estate listings mapping out open houses. Someone send help in the form of vodka, but preferably not sparkling pink, made for 16 year old girls vodka.

For the past few months I've been wrestling with if we should stay in California and continue to live in a tiny, very crowded house or move to Austin, where the houses are bigger, but life becomes an unknown. It should be noted that I'm a little afraid of the unknown and I hate our tiny, very crowded house so the right decision is totally not obvious. Also, I loathe making big decisions. Add it all together and it equals me with an stress ulcer. Fun!

To back up a bit, about a month ago we booked a trip to Austin when we were not sure that moving here was really an option. In that time we realized moving was a very real option and we decided to get some real estate investigating done on said trip. But! But! I'm trying to do all my own research on housing without talking to a real estate agent and without really knowing the area because I don't want to get a third party professional involved. I call it the shoe salesman situation. When in a shoe store, if I sort of kinda like a pair of shoes and the salesperson brings them out, chances are I'll buy them because he went through the trouble of finding them, I've gone through the trouble of trying them on, and they've gone through the trouble of being pretty cute. This is why I don't screw around with shoe stores and stick to zappos. I just know that we'll be browsing open houses and BAM! I'll find a house I sort of like and the agent will start talking and next thing you know I'll be the proud owner of a pretty cute house in Austin.

So we're doing it on our own, which does mean a lot more work for me and this does lower our chances of moving since I am pretty lazy. In fact "I'm lazy" should go in the con column for Austin because ugh, this really is snowballing into a lot of work. Why can't I just do a real estate search for "homes near Rudy's Breakfast Tacos"? Or "homes in the part of Austin that is livable, won't drive me crazy, and won't make me regret moving" because I don't know where that section of town is and finding it just seems like it might take longer than the week I'm here. Added bonus if this perfect fantasy neighborhood is in a good school district because oh yeah, I have that kind of thing to worry about too.

Maybe a tiny, very crowded in California isn't so bad after all.

April showers bring crap

I'm starting to suspect that April is here to kick my ass this year. I don't really understand why, I've never been mean to April, never talked bad about it. It's April! The time of spring and nice weather! It's not supposed to be a time when I walk around mad and only moments away from slugging an old lady. I should be happily stuffing my face with chocolate bunnies, which actually may explain the first situation.

I was at the gym today when a nice grandmotherly type woman approached me in the locker room and said "Passover is good for you dear. You could use less carbohydrates since those put weight on you." What in the world do you say this this? I am usually able to fire up a snarky response but this time I just stood there sort of open mouthed. Did I just get called fat by a sweet looking old lady? Yes I did. Fuck. At least you know I got on the treadmill and ran the hell out of a 5k after that.

And because gym crazies travel in pairs there was another lady just sprawled out on the floor of the locker room totally naked. People kept approaching her to ask if she needed medical help and her response was "No, I'm just relaxing." I'm willing to accept that people want to relax naked in the sauna and steam room. I'm willing to accept that people want to lotion themselves and blow dry their hair while naked. I am not willing to accept that someone will lie down on the floor naked to relax. In fact, I will not accept that someone will lie down on the floor of the locker room, in clothing, to relax. Save this kind of weird behavior for your own homes.

But the real reason I think April is here to kick my ass happened hours before either of those two events. I have a thing for large coffee cups, normal sized ones just aren't enough for me, especially first thing in the morning. So I loaded up my plenta sized cup this morning and headed to the living room where I proceeded to drop the cup with flair. I say flair because it managed to do a twist on the way down, making sure coffee went in every direction possible. Don't believe me? Check out my ceiling:


Well fuck, I spilled coffee on my ceiling. That takes real talent. Besides the ceiling it covered two couches, two pairs of shoes, Tru's new play area, the coffeetable, an exersaucer, and most of the floor. I honestly considered torching the place because lighting a match was just so much easier than cleaning. In the end I used a crapton of bath towels to sop it up and now the house smells like coffee so at least I'll be saving money on scented candles for awhile.

So yeah, we're on day 2 of April and already I am so done. And apparently I'm too fat to comfort myself with good food, so I'll be over here in the corner sucking down carrot sticks until May.