Second try

Its been about 1.5 months since my (Jess') last writing. And first writing. I am pleased to announce that I am in fact, still sitting at Starbucks—though I'm now in the Arlington one—and I also still have no idea what to write about. I thought improvement was inevitable with age. Maybe I should wait longer?

Another thing that has remained constant in my life: roaches. I called my mom to complain about this very thing the other day, to which she reminded me that roaches are a fact of life in Texas. In fact, I should be grateful that they are only the size of small beetles and not huge, mice-sized cretins. Although true, I still don't like them. When my sisters, Nick, and my mom came to visit in July, I furiously cleaned the house before and during their stay, desperate to keep the little buggers at bay. I woke up before anyone else to make coffee and squish the retreating roaches before anyone else saw. This was effective until Nick discovered one in the bathroom... and then I sent Ryan in to kill it. Now that he's proven his agility and fearlessness against them, I graciously let him slay roaches by calling for him every time I see one.

It's not that I don't keep the house clean—I'm constantly taking out the trash, wiping down the counters, rinsing dishes to put in the dishwasher, mopping the kitchen floor, and spraying pink grapefruit cleaning solution on every hard surface I find. In fact, if you were to walk in our apartment right now, it would be spotless... except for the occasional roach scurrying back to it's hiding place. Until today, I had no idea what I was doing wrong.

This afternoon, I came to the conclusion that the roaches were not taking me seriously. After all, how could they if I was allowing their little nests to survive? So I went to Target, bought 24 little poison boxes to hide around Latte Love, and waged all-out war. Apparently, the poison smells just like food (I'll admit, it does smell like garlic butter... but a sick, twisted garlic butter), which the roach eats and then carries back to the nest to share with the others. I guess there's tons of this poison too, because I only have to replace the traps every six months. After I placed the first eight little boxes I just stood there and stared at one—hoping a roach would hurry out, eat the poison and then flip over dead in front of me. No such luck. Maybe they knew I was watching? Or maybe it's just too morbid to want to watch something die (even if it is just a roach). Anyways, I gave up after about 65 seconds and moved on to bigger and better things... like putting away the rest of the groceries.

*Side note* Ryan just passed by on his way to show something to a customer and asked what I was writing about. I told him "Roaches" and involuntarily shuddered. His response was "Really?" as his smile turned into more of a concerned grimace. This has given me new insight—maybe I shouldn't write about things that disgust me, as it might disgust you too. Hmmmmm.

Ok, happier things. I am going home to make cake-pops for church tomorrow. The sugar content might be the only happy thing about it though... I'm making them because our executive Pastor and his wife are leaving to Oklahoma. We'll miss them, but at least we'll bid them adieu with delicious balls of cakey goodness. I've never made cake-pops before, but I've heard there's a first time for everything. Except for diets... they never work long enough to constitute a "time".

I hope there's a dead roach when I get home.

-Jess