The Andrews Cookie-Making Dilemma

It's officially Friday, and that can mean a lot of things.

This week it means that I am trying to get as much work done as possible as early as possible, so I can bake some awesome treats for the Annual Andrews Family Reunion.

I was voluntold to make them, in case you were wondering.

If you don't know what voluntold means, you must not know an Andrews woman.

To give you an idea, the Mr.'s motto is that you "never cross an Andrews woman or tell them what to do". Unless you're an Andrews woman, that is.

I've trained him right.

Anywho, this whole figuring out what to bake for the Family Reunion has been stressful. So stressful, in fact, that I've even considered skipping out on it altogether because my creative baking ideas were seriously lacking.

I would have strongly considered it if it weren't for the fact that I'm pretty sure said-Andrews women would hunt me down with a pitchfork and force me out of my humble abode.

Especially since I've missed the past three years of Andrews fun.

So in the middle of trying to attend to my sick-y husband yesterday, crank out some work projects and wish I was the one laying on the couch instead of the Mr., I looked up as many dessert recipes on Pinterest as I could find.

There were a lot, by the way. Pinterest is, after all, anything if not plethoric.

{By the way, I totally just Googled "Is plethoric even a word?". It is... in case you were wondering.}

I found a lot of recipes that I wanted to try and a lot that I wanted to remake. However, the problem with me picking out recipes is that I tend to choose the most complicated recipes that are required to set for hours... or days.

Like this one:

Source: http://www.globalgourmet.com

So those were immediately tossed out of the idea bag.

After realizing that I am not Super Woman and cannot simultaneously get all dolled up, crank out work, and bake heavenly treats, I made the executive decision to just make cookies.

But not just any kind of cookies. These cookies:


Source: picky-palate.com

I'm pretty sure I gained five pounds just looking at them.

But that's ok because I totally need to gain five pounds so I can fit into these shorts at Banana Republic:

Source: bananarepublic.gap.com

I don't see any potential roadblocks to making these cookies. Well, unless you factor in the fact that HEB may not - in fact - carry the crucial cinnamon chips.

My grandma Susie, by the way, is convinced that HEB makes the decision to discontinue items solely based on her debit card purchases at said establishment. So if that's the case, they probably won't have said chips and my cookie making will be doomed to failure.

If that's the case, I'll just have to make these:

Source: http://www.doughmesstic.net

Because you've always got to have a good back-up plan.

A Nosebleed Kind of Life

Last Wednesday my sister and I went to the Taylor Swift concert in San Antonio, and it was epic.

Epic as in I'm trying to figure out how I can become a full-time singer and perform for thousands of LOUD and adoring fans.

I think the first requirement for this requires being able to actually sing, so I may be screwed. Although, if we were in the 90's I could totally get by with the help of a little auto-tuning and my totally awesome dance moves.

Say hellooo Britney Spears.

But I digress.

As I was saying, K-Beth and I had the awesome opportunity to experience T-Swift in real life. Well, as real life as you can get stuck in the nosebleed section. K's words...not mine.

View from the said "Nosebleed" section

I may have even been a little offended if it wasn't for the fact that it was true. What can I say? When you're 23, you don't have much money...or connections. It's all about the music anyway - right?

Ha.

Right.

Thankfully K-Beth is fairly easy to please. As long as we made it in time to see Ed Sheeran, she was a happy camper. She loves him so much she even bought these shorts that say "Sheeran" across the derriere.

Yeah, my mom gave me a look for that one. What can I say? I can't cramp the girl's style. If she wants to rock the word-butt shorts, more power to her.

I'm pretty sure I've been banned from ever taking her clothes shopping again, though.

Anyway, the point of this very random blog post is to say that watching Taylor Swift in concert had me questioning everything that is my life.

Particularly what I'm doing with it, and where I'm going. Because, let's face it, when you put T-Swift's accomplishments next to mine, her's come out a lot shinier and prettier.

I mean, the girl and I are the same age, and she's already accomplished more than I probably ever will in my entire lifetime.

So - in an effort to make myself feel better about my life and snap out of my mild Taylor Swift caused depression - I made a Top Ten list. A top ten list of things to do before I turn 25, specifically.

Because if I can't write songs with clever lyrics ("Casually cruel in the name of being honest"... that's a lyric that the word-girl in me has been jealous of since I heard it. Or read it. I don't remember which. All I know is that I wish I had written it.) or buy 25 houses by the age of 23, I might as well do something productive.

And interesting.

So here goes...

My Top Ten List of Things to Accomplish Before I'm 25.

{A list I'm sure T-Swift herself would be super jealous of... Just sayin'.)

1. Learn to drive on the highway without dying.
   You laugh, but it's totally true. I avoid the highway at all costs because as soon as I enter the on-ramp images of flippity flip cars and beer guzzling truck drivers enter my head. I'm not really sure why I picture truck drivers illegally drinking, but I do. So just go with it.
    
   My parents like to make fun of this little quirk of mine. They even joke that when I'm 50 I'll be calling my mom in the nursing home to drive me across town to go shopping. It would be funny if it wasn't semi-true.
   
   The nursing home part, I mean.
   
   Because remember, I'm conquering my fear of the on-ramp before I turn 25. Watch out truck drivers... I may just be running you off the road this time.
2. Conquer the art that seems to be pizza dough making.
   Not to sound all conceited or anything, but I am a pretty good cook. Give me a complicated recipe to try, and it'll turn out. But give me the challenge of making homemade pizza, and I fail.
   
   Always.
   
   It's like a rule of the universe.
   
   I used to blame it on the altitude in Colorado, but now that we've moved back to Texas I'm realizing that wasn't the case. I'm just really, really bad at making pizza dough. It either rises to Mars, burns on the edges, or decides not to bake in the middle.
   
   The Mr. always says it's good, but I think he's lying. Probably because he knows if he criticizes it, I'll have a minor breakdown and refuse to cook again.
   
   And then he'd be screwed.
3. Finish one of the many books I've been writing. I couldn't imagine my life without words. I have so many unfinished novels and book ideas that I don't even know where to begin. All I know is that publishing a book requires writing a book, so I better get on it sometime soon.
4. Take a photography class so I can take artsy pictures that all of my followers on Instagram will be jealous of.
   My camera skills are sub-par, to say the least. With the combination of my iPhone camera and my uncreative eye, my photos are boring. And plain. And practically put me to sleep.
5. Run a mile without passing out on the side of the road.
   This is a minor accomplishment in the grand scheme of life accomplishments, but I'm convinced that if I can ever get to the point of running a full mile without stopping, I can do anything.
   
   Granted, that would require having to actually workout and get sweaty, so we'll see how that one goes.
6. Go on a vacation to somewhere that isn't Texas or Colorado.
   The thing about loving Texas when you aren't living in Texas is that you want to take all of your trips to Texas. Now that we live here, however, I'm getting the vacation itch.
   
   I don't care where we go, as long as it's to somewhere we've never been before. Charleston, Savannah, Jamestown, the Florida Keys... they all sound like heaven. And if we can score a cottage on the beach, my life will be made.
   
   Forever.
7. Learn how to sew.
   I've been wishing that the Sewing Fairy would sweep down and grant me her skills for years now. Unfortunately, I have yet to wake up with the acquired skills.
   
   I'm trying to convince my mom to hold a class for me and K-Beth this summer, but we'll see. Apparently she's a very busy lady with very important things to do.
   
   Like hitting Banana Republic and J. Crew for their newest items before anybody else.
   
   At least I know where I got it from.
8. Pick up the violin again.
   When I was in middle school, I was forced to choose an elective class. The problem with elective classes is that if you have no exceptionally great creative talents, you're not going to want to do any of them.
   
   So I was put in Orchestra. With the craziest lady I've ever met.
   
   She seriously put Medusa to shame.
   
   I quit somewhere along the way... I'm not really sure why. It probably had something to do with boys were far more interesting than music in high school.
   
   Oh, the error of my ways.
9. Do something that matters.
   I'm not really sure what this entails quite yet. All I know is that at the end of my life, I want to have made a difference. And by 25, I hope to make some kind of small difference in the world.
10. Buy a house to call home.
    Ok - so it won't be me buying the house. It'll totally be Josh because he's the one that makes all of the money.
    
    Yay him.
    
    I've already started looking. There's something about being able to hear everything in the apartment above you to motivate you to look for a more permanent establishment where you can run the disposal at 10:00 without fear of getting a letter from your apartment agency.
    
    Not that that's happened.
    
    Yet.
    
    If we do end up buying a house before we turn 25, I have a few specifications. Like that it must be this one. Because I am in love with it.



Photo from Realtor.com

The Weekend I Decided I'm Never Having Children

My Memorial Day weekend was so jam-packed full of fun and exciting events that I just know you are going to be super jealous.

Because who wouldn't want to sit on the couch all holiday weekend with absolutely nothing to do?

Definitely not me... I'm all about activities that can put your brain into a minor coma.

Josh was out of town this weekend for his mom's 50th, so to say my weekend was more boring than usual is an understatement. With the exception of mooching a movie and dinner off  of my parents for two nights in a row, I stayed inside the entire weekend (and Monday because Josh works for the only Chicken Coop in town that didn't close early).

So my holiday weekend consisted of catching up on some work, reading a few books, and taking care of our dogs. Which to most people would mean putting some food in a bowl and making sure they go out three times a day.

But no. We have to have two of the most high maintenance dogs in the history of the entire world.

I'm sure of it.

The fact that I did not give away one of our dogs this weekend is a testament of my love for my husband only. Because if it was just me, the Holy Terror would now be living in a home that doesn't mind waiting on a dog hand and foot (or paw and paw).

Because this weekend - of all weekends - Dunkin decided to have a major case of the D's. If you don't know what that is, use your imagination.

So between running the dog outside every 30 minutes (in the pouring rain, mind you) and giving him a bath every other time, my patience was running a little thin and my compassion meter a little low.

I may or may not have told him just exactly what I thought of the situation and demanded that he "hold it" until I felt like going outside.

In a really sweet and compassionate tone, of course.

{Just in case you were wondering, that didn't work. Reasoning with a dog is apparently just a testament to my growing insanity as a person.}

I think it was when Dunkin decided to start throwing up hydrocholoric acid in addition to everything else that I finally lost it. If he had been sick, I may have had an ounce of compassion.

But he wasn't sick. That's just normal, everyday, tempermental Dunkin for you.

Like I said, he's the most high maintenance dog in the history of the world. I've pretty much given up on the hope of ever getting to go on a vacation any time in the next ten years because there's no way I would submit anyone to his level of crazy when we (or just Josh) are gone.

Really, it's quite depressing.

Anyway, as I worked to do everything within my power not to knock on my neighbor's door and ask her if she wanted a free dog, I informed Josh that I am never, ever, ever having children if it's anything like taking care of Dunkin.

Thankfully Josh knows to just let me vent and get all my crazy ideas out there, so he said what any smart husband would say - "Ok".

Because he knows that in ten years I will totally change my mind. But until then, I will enjoy living my life child-free.

Well, as much as that is possible with the Holy Terror living under our roof.

 

This is how he acts when Josh comes home.

 

Yep. I'm pretty sure he hates me.

Facing Fears...One Snake at a Time

One thing I learned about the Mr. very early on is that he is terrified (and I mean absolutely terrified) of snakes. So terrified, in fact, that during one of our first outings together he took off running up Horsetooth Mountain because he saw one heading toward the hiking trail.

Leaving me behind to wonder what the heck he was running from.

Yes, he left a real heroic impression with that move. Thankfully I am neither terrified nor freaked out by snakes so I was totally okay with fending for myself. Now moths on the other hand....

When I finally caught up to him and learned that he had seen a snake, I had to hold back my laughter. I mean, the man was obviously traumatized so I couldn't even make a joke about it.

I quickly learned that any snake sighting in our future would result in the Mr. suddenly and without warning running in the opposite direction.

Even if we're almost home, and I'm on the verge of an asthma attack.

Apparently in the situation of a snake, it's totally okay to walk your wheezing-almost-dead wife back around the entire block to avoid the snake in the creek next to the sidewalk.

Makes sense to me.

So anyway, to say that the Mr.'s snake fears are borderline insane is an understatement. Which is why I had to pray that NO ONE ELSE would fill his head with horror stories of snakes in Texas. Before we moved, he was told story after story of snakes in houses, snakes in yards, snakes in boots, snakes in planes...

And all I wanted was for people to keep their big mouths shut because 1.) we were moving to Texas and no one was stopping us...not even the King Cobra and 2.) I had maybe seen one snake in my entire life living in Texas and found these stories absolutely ridiculous.

So, after reassuring the Mr. of the fact that we would be living in a developed area where snakes would not abound, we arrived in San Antonio.

We're sitting at the kitchen table on that first afternoon in Texas, minding our own business, when my sister walks in and calmly says, "I almost stepped on a snake."

As she proceeds to walk upstairs like nothing at all happened.

So we all rush out the front door (the Mr. was more like cowering by the front door) and sure enough there is a huge snake slithering through the front yard and wrapping itself around a tree.

While Mom and the Mr. are standing there trying to figure out what to do and discussing how freaked out they are, I'm silenting lamenting over leaving Texas so soon.

Because I know the Mr. is about to pack up all of our stuff and get back on the road.

Which would be a problem because he'd have to drag me kicking and screaming all the way back to the mountains.

The snake stayed around for a couple days, lifting it's head from the hole in the tree to say hello and slithering around the yard occasionally looking for food.

Food in the form of a little white dog.

Named Princess.

Which also freaked out the Mr.

I think he was seriously entertaining the idea of putting her in a diaper and not letting her outside until the snake was dead. Fortunately, Miss Priss did not have to tolerate the trappings of the old. I took her out as usual and determined that if she did - in fact - get eaten by the snake, at least she went down with a bang.

Or a really big swallow.

We haven't seen the snake for at least a week, so it's safe to say that it's moved on to terrorize some other poor unfortunate soul. In the meantime, I'm praying that our apartment (that is only a couple of blocks over from my parents') is snake-less.

Because in that case, we're either moving back to Colorado or getting a very big gun.

Sir Snake in the Yard

Can We All Just Go Back to Kindergarten?

I think I've decided that I'm going back to elementary school.

For life.

I seriously envy the day when my only problems and concerns involved trying to wrap my head around the 15 different kinds of blue in the Crayola box and remembering not to pick my boogers in public.

Because the latter will cause lots of teasing and basically be the end to your elementary school life.

Not that I know this from personal experience. I was just a witness to this very phenomenon and heard the kid ended up somewhere in Alaska. Apparently that's where they send the booger pickers.

For real, though. Life was easy back then. Our only jobs were to go to school, do our homework, and be nice to the curly headed annoyance that sat next to you all year.

Piece of cake.

What they failed to tell us was this:

If I had known this little fact, I would have intentionally failed every grade.

Like, five times.

The truth is, sometimes being a grown up stinks. Sometimes there are problems too big to wrap my head around. Sometimes there are situations that are completely out of my control and no matter how hard I try to manipulate them, they remain out of my control. Sometimes life takes its course and you have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Because you can't go back. You can only go forward. Step by step by step.

Moving has been like that. Along the way, we've run through some wide open doors of opportunity and faced a few scary beasts of adversity. We've worried about our finances. We've had everything that could break or cost us money do just that. We've faced our fears about the unknown and stepped into the water with trepidation.

There are still uncertainties. There are still moments when we both think, "Should we have done this?... Did we just make the biggest mistake of our lives?"

What I've learned through this move (and what I'm still learning as we continue to make this transition) is that things don't always go as planned. Things break. Situations don't work out like we thought they would. Challenges arise that demand our time and attention. Doubt creeps in and attempts to set up permanent residence in our minds.

Life isn't perfect. It's messy and complicated and you can't write the script to it. You can't manipulate it into your expectations. You just have to live it - one day at a time - and trust that God is walking with you even through the yucky stuff.

Because sometimes you have to go there before you can get to the good stuff.

{I like to think of it as God testing our Herculean strength. Although He may have forgotten that muscles tend to deteriorate when they are living a life of comfort. So right now, we're probably peaking at the strength of a 90 year old.}

I've doubted a lot through this process. I've thought about going back more times than I can count. And now that we're here, that hasn't changed. Life was good. Life was comfortable. Life was easy. It wasn't drenched in uncertainty. It wasn't walking the tight rope of "what if". It wasn't depending on anything but our own strength.

Which is probably why we needed to move. It was time to step out of the box and lean on something other than ourselves.

I look at my youngest brother (also known as Little Josh...since we have like 5,000 Josh-es running around here) and think about how easy his life is right now. I think about how his biggest problem (at the moment) is figuring out how to build a cardboard car so he can ride it down the driveway on his skateboard.

Racing Jack (my other brother), might I add. Who has a real car. Which Josh wants to race. Down the driveway.

{Actually, when I think about it, this could be a potentially very BIG problem.}

When I think about it though, I wouldn't trade my life with Little J's. Not in a heartbeat.

Because the struggle of "growing up" is what shapes us. I am not who I was yesterday because of what I'm going through today.

And that makes it worth it.

Despite the allure of eating paste in the classroom and living with my parents for the rest of my life.

{Which, when I think about it, is probably the reason I wanted to grow up in the first place.}

Clear Blue Skies and Alabis

Well, we're here.

In the grand ole state of Texas. Full of lots of clear blue skies (at the moment), heat, humidity, and snakes (more on this later).

After being on the road for two days, we were SO ready to see "civilization" again (as Josh calls it).

For real, though. There is absolutely nothing between Colorado Springs and San Antonio.

Unless you count cattle, farm land, and pick-up trucks... because there are a lot of those along the way.

The drive wasn't really that bad, despite the lack of Chick-Fil-A's and acceptable bathrooms. In fact, it was pretty enjoyable. The first day Josh and I switched off driving; the second day I decided to not even pretend to be the nice, considerate wife. I just let him drive the whole way.

If you think about though, it really was a pretty considerate move since he probably didn't want to be lost in the middle of nowhere-land, Texas. Even with a GPS, I'm no good at directions.

We passed the time doing intelligent things, like playing Mad Libs...

And listening to this kind of music....

While dancing like this...

Luckily there was no one on the road to point and laugh at us. I have an image to uphold, after all. One that is slightly less crazy and more sane.

Ha. Yeah right.

The only part of the trip that I was apprehensive about was our hotel. Since I'm blind at night and Josh will fall asleep at the wheel, we decided to break up the drive into two days. Meaning we'd have to stay at a hotel one night.

In west Texas (as in the direction...not the place).

That may mean nothing to you, so let me explain. The last time we stayed in Amarillo, our hotel room (which in normal cities is a nice hotel... just sayin') had mermaid wallpaper.

Mermaid.

Yep.

Amarillo has officially lost my respect.

So suffice it to say that my mission on this trip was to book an Alexis Approved Hotel room. Which was a hard task in and of itself...but throwing in a dog? It's pretty hard.

Do you know what kind of hotels allow dogs? You really don't want to know. They're the kind of hotels that would make me choose going camping over staying in them.

And I really, really do not like camping.

We found one, though, in the middle of Nowhere, Texas (or Canyon if you want to be specific). I had my doubts before we arrived, but it ended up being Alexis Approved after all.

Thank the Good Lord and princess' life because if it wasn't, we'd be minus one dog today.

I really love Princess, but I have to say I love clean hotel rooms more.