In My Head

Flighty Christa (FC): I love these cute and very cheap little houses in Columbia. I should move down here. Then I could also play in my brother's band all the time (because I love it) and I could have a cute little house all of my own.

Grounded Christa (GC): That's silly. You are going to nursing school.

FC: There is a school there.

GC: You would have to be a transfer student, it would take longer and cost more to complete your degree.

FC: Well, I could get a job as a CNA while I go to school, so that would help and the pace would be slower, so I could sleep more. AND THE BAND IS HERE.

GC: Right, you just got your CNA liscense in NC, not SC. And you can't plan your life around a band. End of discussion.

FC: Cute cheap houses, good thrift stores, and garden potential.

GC: High crime rate, low job rate, you're a fool.

FC: I like crafts.

GC: I know.

Has anyone seen the latest 30 rock? Does anyone read my blog? They were song fighting people, song fighting. Put that on my to do list.

I am going to fail my online classes, because I open my computer and suddenly I am watching my favorite TV shows. Odd, isn't it?

Its exhausting being me. I am a walking disaster. Today: I accidentally fed all my checks into the ATM at once instead of one at a time, thus my total deposit was 20 bucks instead of 180. Had to ask the bank people to open the ATM. Yep.

I have a new white cardigan that I LOVE. love. So I wear it as little as possible. Otherwise, I will destroy it. I will put it on just as I walk out the door and I am not allowed to eat in it or use ink pens. or pencils. or paint. And as soon as I get home I take it off and put on my "home cardigan" which has holes and is ugly and is indestructible.

Taken by storm

Random Thoughts This Morning:

I have neglected my online classes for 4 days and missed assignments. Oops.

My house is incredibly clean.

I was singing old MacDonald with the kiddo and I paused to let her fill in the animal when she shouted "Camel!" looking at me expectantly to provide the necessary sound. Uh, what does a camel say?

I started a new job and I am terrified. Working from home makes me feel like I always need to be working, but this position is dependent on other people.

I need printer paper and some coffee.

I am going to make egg rolls for dinner. Maybe. I love egg rolls.

I am ready for my next transition into nursing school. Online classes and working from home makes me 1. Feel like a recluse and 2. Feel oddly unanchored to a schedule. I have been doing these new things for less than a week, so I suppose I will adjust. I had a thought last night that I need to practice learning. Its easy to pretend to read and then cram right before a test, but where will that get me in the long run. I actually have to practice discipline, think about the material as I read it, digest it, think about it, enjoy it, learn it. I figure I better practice now with these psychologies before I get to the real stuff. I am feeling very lethargic in general, so I am hoping a second wind will come my way and provide needed inspiration for activity. Otherwise, I think I am heading to the library or some non-home place so that the things to do will actually get done.

I have this weird bump on the back of my head. I assume I hit my head somewhere but I can't recall where....so I have concluded that its a spider bite and I have spider eggs growing in the back of my head. If I play my cards right, I could give Medusa a run for her money.

Ack! Turn off the TV! (as a side note: duh.)

Today I entertained myself by narrating my day with cheesy news headlines, like "Christa's Brain: Your Source for Breaking News, Specifically In The Category Of Things That Amuse And Have No Pertinence To Real Life."

Here are the highlights:

Dangerous Entanglements: The Curse of Clothing Claustrophobia

It is a Glory Given to Her for a Covering: Hair Straighteners and the Gospel

(this one's for you Megan)

Sew Wrong: When Homemade Clothing Goes Bad

The NeverEnding Story: Christa Says Something Awkward

Running in the Rain: A Guide on What NOT To Do

I have a mini road trip this weekend -> Ch. Hill, Virginia Beach, DC, Baltimore, INTERVIEW, Ch. Hill, Charlotte, Admission?

I feel like my workouts would be made more effective with some interpretive dance and a ribbon wand. And spandex.

I confess, I do love me some Grey's Anatomy

Tonight I played the game “Let’s Make Leftovers Into Something Edible.”

This is what was in the fridge:

1 cup Quinoa

¼ cup Roasted Chicken

½ cup Cannelloni Beans

1 cooked sweet potato

Chicken Broth (I am trying to be a more economical cook, so I roasted a chicken this week, which I have eaten all week but also used to make my own broth. It was fun, especially the roasting. Roasted chicken is so pretty and makes me feel accomplished and old fashioned)

The key to this game is a well stocked pantry. I made a sweet potato stir fry that, if I do say so myself, was delectable.

Sauce:

3/4 cup chicken broth or water

3 1/2 tablespoons soy sauce

3 tablespoons sherry

1 1/2 tablespoons rice vinegar

1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil

1/4 teaspoon pepper

A spot of honey

Mix all these ingredients together.

Sauté 1 ½ Tablespoons garlic, 1 Tablespoon ginger, and 1 chopped onion in a little oil. Add chopped sweet potato once the onion is browned. Then add the beans, chicken, and quinoa. Add sauce and cook until heated. If need be, dissolved 1 ½ Tablespoons of cornstarch in 2 Tablespoons of water and add to sauté pan to thicken the sauce. Serve steaming hot. Any other vegetables could be added as well, aka anything in the fridge that needs to be consumed.

Ironically, I had new leftovers from my leftovers, BUT less than before (because I ate some...duh).

Yang is back!

Can't give up actin' tough, its all that I'm made of.

Tonight, while in the grocery store, I was passing a man who hit a shelf with his own cart. I immediately apologized, as if I thought my clumsiness was infectious and this poor gentleman was within the contagion zone. I made the situation more weird by then saying, "I don't know what I'm apologizing for. Drive safe." The man just looked at me confused. Walk along, nothing to see here children.

There were 4 vultures by the side of the road, right after the ice storm, all feeding on a single squirrel. Who ever sees vultures in real life? I feel like this does not bode well.

It is 9:00 pm and I am in bed. This is a perfect evening.

Firsts

I have been thinking about first impressions, in life and in books...the first line of a novel is the hook which decides if one continues to read or not (really the first paragraph...but its more dramatic to see what a single line can offer). I, thus, provide you with a random sampling of first lines from my limited library. You will see that Jane Austen cheats with punctuation. I separated out novels and short stories to see if short stories try harder, as they have a smaller amount of time to progress their plot. You decide.

Novels:

When I was little I would think of ways to kill my daddy. Ellen Foster

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. The Hunger Games

"Tom!" No answer. "Tom!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer

To begin with the old rigmarole of childhood. Wives and Daughters

I never had sex with my father but I would have, if he had agreed. Iodine

She scowled at her glass of orange juice. The Blue Sword

It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Matilda

Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch-hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs, changed naturally into pity and contempt, as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century - and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed - this was the page at which the favourite volume always opened: Elliot of Kellynch-Hall. Persuasion

I seemed to be standing in a busy queue by the side of a long, mean street. The Great Divorce

Charles Howard had the feel of a gigantic onrushing machine: You had to either climb on or leap out of the way. Seabiscuit

Short Stories:

"Unsolved Mysteries." Raymond West blew out a cloud of smoke and repeated the words with a kid on deliberate self-conscious pleasure. Miss Marple

The Superior Wallcoverings Wildcats were playing in the Little League championship game, and I wanted them to lose. The Smile on Happy Chang's Face

Your Father picks you up from prison in a stolen Dodge Neon, with an 8-ball of coke in the glove compartment and a hooker named Mandy in the back seat. Until Gwen

Anda didn't really start to play the game until she got herself a girl-shaped avatar. Anda's Game.

He did not have friends. Simple Exercises for the Beginning Student

They caught him after he had killed the second man. Old Boys, Old Girls

He had a weird growth along his dorsal fin and that gape-mouthed grimace you see in older fish. The Secret Goldfish

When I was sixteen I was high most of the time. Natasha

In a lovely urban coincidence, the last two houses on our block were both occupied by widows who had lost their husbands in Eastern European pogroms. Bohemians

Today I have been experimenting with watercolors, as I am using them in my design for Carman and Emmy's wedding. I've had moderate success, sketching and painting vegetables. Tomatoes have been my favorite, bright red with a kiss of yellow in the corner. The living room floor is also scattered with various sewing projects, a very inspiring scene. I think I need some new paint brushes; I did some research and I need a #8 round red sable. Doesn't that sound nice, almost like a friendly horse. Red sable. Of course, in reality, sable is a type of marten, which reminds me of a marmot, all of which have little to do with painting.

Currently, I am waiting until it is late enough that I can go to bed. Tomorrow I must study for my CNA test. I am nervous but I hope it ends well. Doesn't it make you nervous, when some event is stalking your future? The only thing that plagues me is taking blood pressure. I am not bad at it, but I have not taken one for a while and have no sphygmomanometer to practice with. Alas. Hopefully I will only have to measure someone's weight or measure urine output.

I have no camera, so I cannot show any pictures of my progress on any of the pictures, you will have to use your imagination.

New favorite blog for inspirational crafting and pretty things, Design*Sponge.

Today, hands freezing, I waited outside of the DMV until there was enough room in the lobby to let me in. I got in the front door, waited in the first line, waited in the second line, and then failed my test. So I get to go back tomorrow. I have to take a driving test as well, since I lost my CO license, which isn't showing up in the computer, because, you know, this is NC. After the three hour ordeal, culminating in my, let's say it again, failure (it was a spine tingling finish: I had missed five questions (you miss six and you fail) and I was pondering the answer to the last question, which was asking what percentage of deaths on the road were a result of alcohol. I went back and forth, hovering over each answer with the mouse, until finally clicking. I clicked wrong.), I went home and made myself a delicious lunch (chicken apple sausage, homemade apple sauce, and kale). Then I spent the afternoon with Christina, bride-to be, working on center pieces.

We were making some branchy, twiggy things that will glisten on the tables, after some DIY crafting. We headed out to her farm yard, armed with saws and clippers, and entered the cow pasture (which is quite large and is home to 4 cows) where some of the most twiggy trees are. At the first tree the cows came to visit, led by Curly, a large brown cow. He was quite friendly and wanted his head scratched. This is the type of cow behavior I can handle: head scratching. However, by the third branch, he started charging at us. Christina and I quickly changed plans, abandoning the collection process and trying to make our way back to the fence. Our procedure was to move from tree to tree, cowering at the base where he couldn't get us. I was terrified. This giant cow kept running full force in our direction, only turning at the last minute. He was smart enough, thank goodness, not to run straight into the trees. We had already three giant branches in our arsenal, which we used to keep Curly at bay and worked our way toward the fence, until our trees ran out. There was a huge part of the pasture without any trees that we had to cross to get the fence. And without trees to protect us, we would be taken out quickly. I thought to myself, "I am too young to die this way." The cow was making larger circles, but kept coming back, while Christina and I circled one tree as he attacked, trying not to hit each other with our giant sticks and saws. There were only two options: wait indefinitely for a Beekman family member to come rescue us or launch ourselves across the open space. Finally, Curly made a circle wide enough that we saw our chance to run across the space and throw ourselves over the fence before he could make it back to eat us. It was quite thrilling and I was glad when it was over. I told Christina that I no longer wanted to participate in any pre-wedding activities involving farm animals or running with half a tree in my grasp. I also got cow poop on my hand. That Curly, he is a mean one.

For dinner, I had walnut crusted salmon, garlic zucchini, and creamy potato soup. I wanted a hamburger, in honor of Curly.

A rhyming year.

Danny, dear fellow, came up for the holiday. After a smash-bashing dinner with our Uncle (which included the best, no really, the best hamburger I have ever eaten in my entire life) at Big Daddy's, we watched silly movies, such as Salt and the Other Guys. I think we stayed up til 12, but hard to say, as I was so, so tired. The sound of fireworks served as my lullaby as I drifted out of 2010. We were going to go hiking this morning, but Dan is still abed and it looks cloudy and cold out. We will have to find another adventure.

I baked brownies this morning for the Farson New Year's Day Bash. It was a recipe found through my mom, Walnut Lover's Brownies, a Betty Crocker recipe. Sooooo delicious. I thought to myself, "What an easy and yummy recipe to make, that won't require too much effort but will continue to bolster my reputation as the best of cooks." So, with ease and grace, I began to mix and measure. "Hmmmm," I said to myself. "I better double the recipe because everyone will just gobble these delectable bites up!" I added more butter, more sugar, and more walnuts, while the refrain "I am a wonderful cook, I am a wonderful cook, I am a wonderful cook" trickled through my brain. While stirring the topping, my favorite spoon snapped in half, which I mourned briefly, failing to recognize what doom the break augured. I foolishly continued on. The brownies themselves are rich and fudgey, requiring only chocolate, butter, sugar, flour, and eggs. I had just melted the butter and chocolate when I went for the sugar, only to realize I was two whole cups short! "Egads!" I whispered intensely, because Danny was still slumbering peacefully, with no knowledge of the epic storm cloud of disaster forming in the kitchen. "What to do!?!" With just a moments hesitation and no forethought, I began pouring anything sweet into the bowl. I substituted the four cups of white sugar with 1 1/2 cups white sugar, 1/2 cup brown sugar, and 1/2 a teddy bear of honey. "That should do it..." I decided to move forward to the eggs, trusting that all will be well. One, two, three, four, five, six eggs. "Aack! I am two eggs short! With no applesauce or bananas to be found!" I looked frantically between the egg carton and the bowl, hoping that a New Year's Day Miracle would occur, not unlike the Water Glass Miracle Of Christmas Eve. I counted the de-shelled yolks again. "Phew, there are seven. Okay, just one egg short shouldn't be a problem." I moved steadily toward the last step, and poured in all the flour, adding an extra-ish bit to cover the lost egg. "For structure," I nodded approvingly at the flour bin. As I poured the concoction into the pan, it clung to the sides of the bowl, ever reluctant to move, like an primordial amoeba refusing to slither onto the shore despite the promise of its evolution into man. "Get into the pan, yea foul brownie beast!" I commanded. Tamed, the batter did as bidden. I courageously topped the batter with the walnuts and sent the whole lot into the oven. Where it sits, while I wait to see what will emerge.

Twenty-seven in Two Thousand and Eleven. A rhyming year. A good sign.