Archive for tacos

What’s up? It’s Cinco de Mayo, a time for reflection and writing down life goals… What’s that you say? That’s New Years?! Well maybe in your world but around this Villa we don’t get motivated till May, possibly June. I was just sitting here enjoying some family fish tacos reminiscing about how much my life has changed in a year. Last year in the week of Cinco de Mayo I was a regular on the happy hour circuit, in fact I celebrated Cinco with an old friend, a new friend, and a new-ish beau.  

What. A. Mindfu*k. A. Year. Makes. 

It would take around 80 posts to go all the way down that rabbit hole and let’s be real I’m typing this on my phone as the taco coma hits but I would never have guessed that the only person on that list that I would still be in regular contact with would be the new friend. In fact I think about it oddly often in moments of pure delight. Will I even know these people next year? Will our friendships still be strong? Should I finally get a lob? Do I have cilantro in my teeth? Will they end up becoming best friends with a dude who sold me a fake bill of goods and destroyed the illusion on my birthday? You know, run of the mill questions like that. 

This year I celebrate at home, with the tinys and tacos and lots of laughing. I feel quite certain that the answers to the above questions with this group are yes, yes, no, yes, uh illegal. What can I say, they really like my hair long. 

So on this the eve of a new year in the Villa I resolve to let go (as much as I can) of what ifs and worries, I choose to embrace the mental funeral and know that no matter where I’m sitting next Cinco I will definitely have cilantro in my teeth. 


Do you remember when I used to babble here sporadically? Yeah me either.

Have you ever had writers block? Idea block, word block, cock block. They pretty much all feel the same.

I was laid off last week. Oy. Too much free time has lead me to start a bullet journal, go to the dentist, raise a plant named Stan, make beet hummus, take 6 barre classes and somehow still avoid 9 loads of my own laundry. It’s been a really exciting 10 days, 12 hours aannnnd 18 minutes.

So back to the cock block that is my “writing”. I have mentioned to a handful of people, in a very dramatic way, that I’m at a precipice in this giant life of mine. Do I continue down the path of living in jcrew clothes while eating takeout at my desk and wondering if someday I will crack and finally rob a taco truck? Or do I get real, dig in and become a writer, perhaps a teacher, definitely a certified badass who doesn’t have to steal tacos. One friend casually and by casually I mean quite pointedly observed that writers write and he hadn’t seen me write anything in a looooonnnngggg time.

He may have a point. (Insert hard side eye here)

There have been things to say big and small but by the time I stopped to write them down I had talked myself out of them being important enough. Instead I instagrammed them or texted them to a select few or worse started the first sentence and then contemplated who may or may not see what I had written and they may or may not like it and that may or may not land me in hot water.

Today somewhere between making an inappropriate swallowing joke at the dentist and buying my second bullet journal I decided to say fu*k it. If you don’t like what I have to say don’t read it, if you don’t like what I have to say and it’s about you, well perhaps you should have been nicer. If you love what I have to say and think I should have free tacos for life raise your hand or leave a comment below. I’m back family, rusty as fu*k but back.