Tell me. I need to be told.
Julia. You’re not the only one who is 26 and still doesn’t have it all figured out. “It” is not easily figurable. “It” doesn’t have to be “it” forever. “It” is a pain in the booty. I need this to be told to me daily….nay, minute-ly. Teeeeeell me.
Hey Julia, you know that skirt you’ve been wearing since 2000? It’s 12 years old. It may feel new to you, because it hasn’t been stained, ripped or stolen, but it has gone through 7 moves with you; it’s sick of traveling. And it’s 12 years old. Get. A. New. One. You should tell me this.
Hmm…you should probably prune the garden. If you don’t, there will be tears. When left ignored, some things attract colonies of you-don’t-want-that-crawling-on-your-food. Don’t ignore leafy greens…or anything for that matter. Say these words to me, it’s fine.
It okay, you can tell me that just because Spice Girls’ Wannabe is stuck in my head does not mean it needs to be sung out loud. Please remind me. Tell me twice. Unless it’s Halloween or International 90s Day, in which case, you should be singing too.
I need to be told a lot of things, sometimes with a loud voice and big eyes, sometimes more than once. Sometimes recipes require more than one go-round. Like coconut pancakes. The finickiest pancake on the planet. They’re full of protein, naturally gluten-free and they have wonderful flavor…but they are finicky and I never seem to make them the same way twice. Nevertheless, they’re worth the hassle and they’re excellent for a slow Saturday morning. You can make them while you’re being told not to sing Spice Girls.