Christa's Celebration de la Chic

Fashion is the unbarring of your soul to complete strangers. A mere flip flop can reveal an obsession with youth as a belt can reveal a subconscious need to reign in your inner fire. Clothes are a language and we define ourselves by what we own (or by what we don't own). How many times have you purchased something you won't really read/use/wear because you thought it would make you look/feel/be cooler? Case in point. Even a rebellion against fashion is still spoken by what you wear. You will never escape.

This season, style is all about layers. Today I dressed in 7 layers of awkward.

Layer 1: Foundation Garments, made by Underlying Insecurities

Layer 2: Camisole in Light Pink with Antique Lace Trim, made by Hide Yourself

Layer 3: Grey Blouse with Wooden Buttons, made by In My Head So I Can't Hear You

Layer 4: Jeans, made by Who Do You Think I Am

Layer 5: Extra Soft Socks of Angora Wool, made by Trying Too Hard

Layer 6: Brown Riding Boots, made by Pretending Not To Care

Layer 7: Earrings, made by Don't Look At Me

But more importantly, what are you listening to? Check out this shout-out to my brother's band. You should listen to them. It will make you cool.

I noticed at the library lately I have been running into a lot of people. Literally, bodies smashing together inconveniently as I try to accomplish the already impossible task of walking while holding things. "Oh Christa," I say to myself while rolling my eyes, "you are so clumsy!" Then this morning it happened again and I finally realized the reason: I have been walking out the entrance door rather than the exit door (This library, apparently, has two very separate, very well marked doors, one for entering and one for exiting). Got it. Not clumsy, stupid. Check.

I have been very stressed lately about getting financial aid in order for school, especially since I will be borrowing a preposterous amount of money. I have never done loans like this before and I hate doing things I don't know how to do (hearken back to Christa learning to drive, Christa learning physics, and Christa buying a car). But finally I broke down and asked some questions. You have to pity to Johns Hopkins financial aid office, because they probably have hundreds of type A, anxiety ridden, over-achievers calling them daily. The lady I spoke with exclaimed, "What did they send you students in the mail? Everyone is FREAKING OUT. Honey, you are doing a great job. Everything will be fine. We will wait for the money and you will be able to register for classes." A nice little pep talk, I thought. I have discovered that 75% of my anxiety is self-created. Not to belittle the power of this anxiety, because when it strikes it is like a lightening bolt to the brain that sucks all of the wind from your lungs and laughs as it begins to eat your heart while you watch helplessly. But...a little perspective goes a long, long way. Also, my mom was in town this weekend, a balm to my soul.

Have you ever worn a bonnet?

This was the query of a blog I read occasionally. I was saddened and mournful about the half-hearted comments of folks who vaguely recall a time in their lives where they may or may not have worn a bonnet. They say "well, I was a girl child once and I like to sit in grass, so I must have worn a bonnet at some point." Kids, if you wear a bonnet with pride, YOU DO NOT FORGET. Can I get an amen? I, naturally, commented in length. I have decided, for your reading pleasure, to create a bonnet time line of my life.

* Timeline Translation because for once "paint" has failed:

- Birth

- First Bonnet

- Walk toward my first bonnet

- First crib escape in bonnet

- Speak first word: bonnet

- Speak first phrase: Mother, where did thou place my bonnet, my head covering of choice?

- First reading of Little House on the Prairie

- Climb first tree in bonnet

- First annual Bonnet and Field Frolic

- Sew my first bonnet

- First wearing of bonnet in public aka not in a field or forest

- Finished writing "Bonnet: The Musical" which includes great hits such as "My bonnet lies over the ocean" and "I like big bonnets"

- I begin bonnet street evangelism

- First visit to the Amish; I weep for joy

- First realization that historical museums offer a bonnet-safe space

- Found B.W.B - bonnets without borders, a non-profit dedicated to bringing bonnets to those in need

- Design the first nursing bonnet

- Publish first issue of "The Bonnet Quarterly"

- Live the remainder of my life, in bonnet, on the commune, where children and flowers flourish

- Death, buried in bonnet

The most comforting fact I have ever learned: anxiety can cause dementia-like symptoms. This explains so much in my life.

Stewed

Hmmm...picture rotation problems...

but I wanted to show the flowchart that got Christina and I through dinnerpolooza yesterday. Eight hours of cooking produced brie in croute, french onion soup, garlic mashed potatoes, bouef bourguignon, green beans, buttered peas and for dessert: Queen of Sheba cake with almond cream and strawberries. It was so much fun to cook with such extravagance and then to share it all with friends. There were ten of us in all, with Christina's GIANT Le Crueset pan as the shining star. More pictures to follow.

Christa's Celebration de la Chic

I have decided to start a new blog segment titled: Christa's Celebration de la Chic. The purpose of this segment is let you all in on the little "how-to" secrets of how I pull of this state of eternal awesomeness.

To pull of this lifestyle, you MUST stay up late working on crafts, so to stay in a constant state of befuddlement. Then bite off more than you an chew. I am currently in the midst of cooking extravaganza and helping with two parties with people I love. And I have to do my homework. And sleep. And craft. Woe's me, what a life, what a life. But now to business.

First, I will teach you how to open a bottle of wine.

Step 1: Insert archaic and ineffective wine opener around cork. Pull with all your might, revealing only a 1/4 inch of the cork. You will not be able to remove the cork any further.

Step 2: Cut off the visible cork with a knife. Repeat step 1.

Step 3: Shake the bottle up and down in hopes of shifting the cork a little bit more.

Step 4: Curse silently and then audibly. Repeat step 2. Repeat step 1. Repeat step 2. Repeat step 1. Repeat step 2.

Your wine bottle is now open. Carefully remove any shards of glass you may have grated off of the lip of the bottle. Proceed with drinking/cooking/serving.

Here are other tips from my Saturday morning projects:

Key Lime Pie:

To speed up the baking process, use a pre-fab graham crust from the store.

DON'T: Pre-cook crust as if you had made it from scratch, according to the directions. It will burn.

DO: Cover up the burnt crust with a thick layer of sweetened sour cream.

Sour Cream Pound Cake:

Add a little lemon zest to brighten the flavor and make this dessert a bit summery.

DON'T: Grate the part of the lemon with the sticker on it. This will add adhesive and plastic to your dessert.

DO: Carefully pick out the plastic bits to prevent poisoning of beloved guests.

Homemade summer dresses:

Whip up a quick dress to flounce about the fields and evoke images of Little House on the Prairie 70's summer style.

DON'T: Sew on back straps while they are twisted and not aligned*. Also, don't sew the back of the dress to the front.

DO: Re-do the straps, um, 6 times until they are correct.

*This step should only be attempted after straps are initially attached and worn out in public. You will find that you did such a poor job of fixing them to your dress that the slightest movement will cause them to release their tenuous hold and leave you vulnerable in your moment of need.

I tossed a lucky coin, that never came down

I blame my brother.

And my childhood dreams.

I love being on stage. I know, I know - you are shocked into silence by this daring confession. No, it wasn't my domination over all my friend's birthday parties, trying to choreograph our play time or the hundreds of plays I forced the Nam girls (bless them), siblings, family members, friends to act out with me, that brought this revelation to the forefront. It has been playing with my brother's band, finally (finally!!) being on a real stage that I discovered all my imaginings were rooted in reality, growing in the extroverted soil of my soul. I love to perform. Alas, it will end too soon but secretly I hope that while I am at nursing school Dan's band will skyrocket into stardom and I can tour with them, with my security career safely established. For now, I continue to scribble song lyrics no one will hear on scraps of paper no one will see (except my brother, he's a gem. I write brilliant lyrics but actually can't write a song. I am like a musical sous chef, the garnish to a songwriting souffle: I can adorn and assist but rarely comprise the true substance of a thing).

Next Charlotte Show: May 4th, Snug Harbor.

Peek of the Week

I have been wanting to do this a long time: participate in peek of the week. I have soooo many projects happening at a time but nary a camera in sight. This week, however, I managed to grab a few pictures (albeit poor pictures) of my latest project.

My dear friends Carman and Emmy are getting hitched. Emmy and Carman were fellow volunteers at La Puente back in the day and we all shared many an adventure and many a spaetzle together. There are so many wonderful things about these two people and simply not enough room to share it all, but to say they are

one of a kind. The wedding date is in August and the theme is rustic/barn/garden = awesome. Emmy asked me a few months ago if I thought I could replicate a vintage seed-packet for their invitations. I had never tried an art project (at least onet that people besides my mom and dad would see) of this type before and was a little nervous. But I am so pleased with how it turned out, if I do say so myself.

Today I have an unexpected day off. To make things even better, I actually woke up feeling refreshed. I also found the secret to fluffy, delicious whole wheat pancakes (3/4 cup whole wheat flour, 1 egg, 2 full teaspoons of baking powder, 2 Tablespoons of butter, 1/2 cup - ish rice milk until right texture, zest of 1/2 a lemon, a smattering of cardamom. The secret is less flour, more egg and more baking powder). Now I am sewing yellow flowers and planning a library trip. Maybe I will sit outside and read. Probably do some homework too.

Okay, we all know I am allergic to the world, something I keep trying to deny. But try as I might, I just can't ignore it any longer. But some new diet adjustments (ugh), acupuncture, and sleeping with socks on my hands (yes, like an infant) has finally made some improvements. Over the weekend, something triggered something and it looked like my hand had been burned. I was stumped. So I wrote an alternate version of reality. Ahem.

---

She had always had a spot on her right hand, a little patch of scaly skin. When she was younger, she remembered being surprised that everyone didn't have one. She would go from palm to palm looking for scales. That was before she learned to be embarrassed by it. Now she favored her left hand, keeping her right delicately hidden. Thankfully gloves were always in style and she was clever with her fingers, so she rarely need two hands for any task. Of course, everyone still knew she was different. Nobody forgot.

Things had remained the same for a long time. Except now, suddenly, they were different. The change happened when she was helping her mother at church. It was a Wednesday evening, right before the mid-week meeting. She was helping to prepare communion, a task that did require two hands and no gloves. At least, she always consoled herself, it could be done in private with just her mother present. As she pulled off her glove she let out a small gasp. "My word!" exclaimed her mother. The girl held out her hand, staring at is as if she had never seen it before. The one dry patch had spread all across her palm and up to the tip of each finger, a glaring red. She couldn't account for the change. She tested the movement of each of her fingers, which pulsed with their inner fire. "What did you do to yourself?" her mother growled, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the sink. The girl numbly allowed her hand to be drenched in cool water, but the pulsing remained. After a while her mother turned off the water and continued to stare at her hand. "Well, there is still work to be done and I can't have you helping with this..." She let her sentence hang in the open space. "Sit here until I return for you." The girl sank to a stool, now clutching her hand to her chest. It felt better there. The throbbing was less painful and more interesting.

She didn't know how much time had passed. The throbbing of her hand had entered her brain and lulled her into a daze. She stood and tried to shake it off, but to no avail. She went to the window and loosened the latch to open it, keeping her right hand tight against her. The air felt hot and dry, not offering an ounce of refreshment. She leaned further out onto the sill, hoping to catch any fragment of a breeze. Impulsively she held her pulsing hand out into the air, not caring who saw the glistening scales that had begun to form. She closed her eyes and she felt the heat embrace her hand and then the throbbing stopped. She opened her eyes and saw her hand was pressed up against the nose of ... a dragon. They gazed at each other for a moment as she noticed her hand matched the dragon's scales perfectly. Her foreign hand was finally resting someplace where it looked natural. As natural as it could look, touching a dragon that was cozied up to the church's back window.

Of course, her mother returned precisely at this moment. The girl was sure her mother's scream would echo in the heavens forever. She looked at her mother and then back at the dragon. Without any hesitation, she tucked up her skirt and climbed out the window, never lessoning her grasp on her dragon. She slid her hand onto its neck and vaulted herself onto its back. Her mother ran to the window with a small cry. The girl smiled back at her wistfully and then buried her head into the dragon's neck as it took flight. Together they soared over the church steeple and into the hot blue sky, where the girl finally belonged.

---

Okay, this story has nothing at all to do with my reality but I enjoy thinking that maybe a dragon will show up to make my day just that much more interesting.

Still haven't left the house...

Half Day

My Fridays are ambiguous. Sometimes I have to be at work, sometimes not. Sometimes I pretend to work and sometimes I really do work. And sometimes I lay in bed as long as possible to avoid the work I know I need to do. That is today. I probably woke at 8 but lay in bed reading until 10 (finished my book; it was good). Then breakfast (porridge with blackberries - I am truly eliminating the bad from my diet in hopes my hands will heal. So far so good) out on the porch swing, a new book, reading emails, and now blogging to avoid leaving the house. Soon I will jump up in a flurry of activity and run like a mad women to begin what should have begun long ago. Then I have to do alllllll of my homework (read 5 chapters, take a test on those chapters, read another chapter, take a quiz, write a short paper about food and exercise, read 3 more chapters) that I have been avoiding and then I fall into Saturday, with a sigh of relief. This Saturday I have marked on my calender, indelibly, as a craft day. I must finish my watercolors for Emmy and Carmen's wedding and, hopefully, make some sense out of the fabric madness that has encompassed my bedroom floor. I feel like these will be the last days of serious crafting for me as I head to nursing school and want to finish baby gifts, random projects, and all birthday, Christmas, and wedding gifts before June. Right. That being said I have already double booked myself with some frisbee and a possible picnic. Conundrum. There could be worse fates for a Saturday.

Awkward

I am at Amelie's finishing a paper, late at night. The seat I selected is hidden behind a curtain. On the other side of the curtain is a sofa. On the sofa sit two young lovers, who do not realize how close I am to their whispering heads. I am trying not to eavesdrop, but their ridiculousness is invading my homework space. Please, get a room.

I love to read, probably more that anything else. I cannot leave a library without feeling wonderful. This spring I have had the great pleasure to read many books, squeezing a chapter into every spare minute. Sometimes I feel bad that I don't read more high-minded books, that, you know, teach you things. But I have decided to take my own advice and own it. I love novels. I love a good story and it doesn't matter what form it comes in, I will devour it. My current reading pile includes Piratica, Piratica II, Dragonhaven, Chalice, (yes, all YA Fantasy) and one adult book called Shadow Tag. I just returned another Madeline L'Engle book (I have read four or five in the last month) and North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell, which was a marvelous read. I have a girl crush on Elizabeth Gaskell. It's going to be a good Saturday.

"The Wee Wonderfuls."

"The Weed Wonderfuls?" The librarian queried, raising her eyebrows at me.

"No, Wee, Weeee!" I responded emphatically. Her eyebrows rose higher, which I actually didn't think was possible.

"Hmmm." She was clearly questioning my sanity and my taste in literature. I already had a hefty tome, The Forgotten Arts & Crafts, clutched in my hands (what a find!), which did not improve my credibility as a non-crazy reader. We finally tracked down this new book, which is a book on doll making. Not creepy dolls - sweet patchwork dolls and cats and bears that are so lovely. I have been itching for the week to be over so I can get to my sewing machine. Today I arrived home from my exhausting week and immediately traced out 11 pages of patterns until I ran out of tracing paper (I have two more patterns I want to trace!). Now I must put these things aside and clean my house, which is disgusting, and do my homework, which is neglected, and sleep, because I am very tired. But soon (!) I will get to my patterns. You all will receive dolls, bears, or cats (or pillows, I like to make pillows too) from me for all birthdays, celebrations, and housewarming gifts. I know you are excited.

I am also sporting a great left-arm driving sunburn because I have logged about 325 miles in my car this week, driving to every single school in Mecklenburg County. I don't want to talk about it.

my debut with the sea wolf mutiny

The Sea Wolf Mutiny at the Evening Muse, Charlotte, 11 pm

Cover is $5

More here

I AM SO EXCITED!

How you live your days is how you live your life

This is a totally satisfying practice suitable for such a rainy day. I keep adding to this list and I find it affirming when I put something on there twice by accident, thus revealing how much I want to accomplish said task. Some things are silly, others far-fetched but all I propose to accomplish. I find perusing this list to be very motivating.

This is what I have so far:

learn Spanish / learn German / keep a garden/ learn to can/ play the ukulele/ own a typewriter/ learn to rock climb/ learn to dance (swing, tango, waltz, tap, etc)/ hike the App. Trail/ live a year (or more) in another country/ wear a homemade clothing/ make a pair of shoes/ make my own cheese/ write a novel (or two)/ illustrate my children’s book/ write a cookbook/ run a marathon/ build my own house/ build a green house/ build a tree house/ live without driving a car for a year (or more)/ be good/ buy land of my own/ write a song/ build a bed/ build a bookshelf/ reupholster something/ grow my hair out really really long/ have children (lots)/ paint all my walls the color of my soul/ wear flowers in my hair/ canoe from somewhere inland to the ocean/ explore an island/ learn to kayak/ design my own fabric/ make a short or a documentary/ play the electric cello/ go to nursing school/ do doctors without borders/ be a real citizen aka vote in an election and understand everything I am voting on/ visit the white house/ visit the Smithsonian museums/ go to Egypt and see the pyramids/ go to China/ make my own bread/ own goats/ compost and maybe even have worms/ be fearless/ roller derby!/ make ugly cakes filled with love/ jump out of a cake/ be in a musical/ write a musical/ dance in a field while wearing a white dress/ make my own wedding dress (get married?)/ learn yoga/ journal/ stop eating sugar/ do street art/ stencil/ climb the Himalayas/ go to India/ go to New Zealand/ learn the healing properties of herbs and plants/ tutor reading/ memorize and play a cello piece I am scared of/ master scales

Observation

It seems physically impossible for me to leave the house. I keep sitting here, my things are by the door, but I never quite make it. I have convinced myself that everything I need to do can wait....this spells trouble.

I'm awake

For the first time in like, what, 5? 6 weeks? I feel awake. Something in the pollen has shifted, Praise the Lord! So what am I doing today? Getting my crap in order, my sad, neglected, ignored crap. I am going down the list because I am awake and ready for nursing school. Can you hear me screaming? Oh, right, that's just in my head. I am a little worried about how all of this is going to come together, but come together it will. I have a list.

Recent Events:

- Christina got wed, completed with girly sleepovers, tree climbing, singing "Going to the Chapel", and blissful send-offs.

- I am reading every book Madeline L'Engle ever wrote.

- Dan's band is playing in Charlotte! April 1st, Evening Muse. I will be playing too! Come hear us kids!

I am having one of those days where my ability to make light of every situation and laugh at myself is failing. With each opening flower bud and each ray of sunshine, my state of health decreases. As the wicked witch of the west was destroyed by water, so I am being destroyed by spring.

Things I have done during the day seem like a dream when I remember them. And my real dreams mix up all of the things of my day in a wild and disturbing manner that I don't wish to recollect or relive. What could be so disturbing. I will introduce you to some of the cast of my dream last night: larvae. Need I say more?

Things are pretty.

Okay, so I just attempted my first Etsy treasury, mainly because I loved Jessa's onesie creation (see the first item). This was exhausting. I am sure I can find better ways to spend my time, but in the end I am quite pleased with the collection and aesthetic balance. Hooray for Mondays!

I don't want to jinx it, but I think my cough is almost gone. I have used only one cough drop today and have spent only 17.23 minutes in the act of coughing. I am afraid to do anything other than sleep and drink tea, for fear I will throw my body back into immune system havoc!

What is most ironic, I thought to myself as I stared through the locked door of my car at the car keys on the seat, is that 10 minutes ago I said aloud, What would make this day suck is if I lock my keys in my car. And then I did it, thus sealing the fate of my afternoon. Things that happened while locked out of my car:

- I played chicken with a hawk. I kid you not. This giant bird swoops down from the sky right toward me and I just stare at it. I am wondering, is it aiming for me or am I just in its way? Can it not see me? Where is this giant bird headed? And then, when I could see its talons, I ducked. Now I know I have a tendency towards hyperbole, but I am so telling the truth. Hawk Bird Vs. Christa. Hawk Bird won. I knew this once I found myself cowering under my bumper.

- A woman asked where I was from in Colorado and somehow, in our 6.15 minute conversation, I told her my entire life story. Not sure how that happened.

- I calculated how many times I locked myself out of places in the last 12 months: car - 5, apartment - 2, house I am babysitting at with kids inside - 1. I think I need to go to locksmith school.

- My ears are ringing. Because I have an ear infection, like a three year old. The doctor told me that my lasting illness is actually allergies. And then I got an ear infection. I am so so so tired.

- Locksmith shows up and tells me his life story, with dramatic hand gestures, while I look at my watch because its time to pick up the baby from Spanish. Apparently a psychic, who he opened (unlocked) a door for, was phone stalking him. And, you know, he likes thick girls but not THICK girls (this is the first thing he tells me. my question: who are you and why aren't you opening my car?) so, he is going to have her number blocked. And she won't stop calling him (I have to pick up a toddler in 3 minutes). Finally I tell him I have to go pick up my little girl (the church is in walking distance) and I go get Emmy and we have a lovely walk while he finishes breaking into my car. Which, if you ever wondered, Subarus are hard to break into.

A hint of greater things.

Listening to my bro and his fellow band member, Bobby, play some music on this here podcast.

Driving home I see those flooded fields How can people not know what beauty this is I've taken it for granted my whole life Since the day I was born

This Valentines week I couldn't help but think how lucky and loved I am. I am so blessed with lovely, lovely people in my life. I have entered a season of such contentment and peace in knowing who I am and a little bit of where I am going. This is the great thing about growing up, for all of its bumps and falls. Sometimes I am so filled with joy, for no outwardly obvious reason, that I feel that rainbows will shoot from my fingertips. By asking the questions I have avoided out of fear, I have found sweet answers and affirmations that shatter the lies that I let live in my heart.

This week deserves celebration for the great folks that were born into it, Tiffany and my bro, Dan. Birthdays can sometimes have a tinny quality to them, echoing as we try to fill them with all the things we want to share and show people, the things we want to say, and the longing to feel our worth. But I hope these dear friends feel the weight of their importance to the people around them, in a it's-a-wonderful-life-other-wordly-experience way, if necessary. I have the hook up with some angels if ya'll need some Clarence love (that's his name right? the angel that needs to earn his wings). I love you guys!

I've been accepted to Johns Hopkins, she said in a whisper that couldn't contain her hope, excitement, and glee.

I make a lot of mistakes. Lots. In the past each one would be seared into my memory and I would relive them, painstaking detail by painstaking detail. That time I broke something. Or that time I said something embarrassing. Or my entire year of 6th grade. Then I learned to laugh at myself. It takes a little practice, but now I am really good at it. Really good. So now I am learning to handle my EPIC mistakes with grace. The ones where lots of people know you messed up, not just the lady you spilled coffee on. The one where you organized an event, invited 100 people, and then put the wrong address on the flier and didn't realize it until your boss calls you, lost and 30 minutes late to the function he is hosting. Right. Epic. But guess what. I slept really well and only spent 1 hour of my day groaning (I knew I needed to stop when the little girl I babysit started mimicking my guttural and heart wrenching "Oh my goooooossh" moans that would spontaneously spew forth). And now I am preparing to go into the office and face my consequences (which I am sure include a bucket of hot oil, maybe some tar and feathers). Things I will do: apologize, not make that mistake again, see what I can do to fix things, resign if necessary (the knowledge I could quit at any time makes everything in life more bearable). Things I will NOT do: Talk meanly to myself in my head.

The ironic thing is yesterday morning, before the revelation of my flier debacle, I was so sure of myself and like, dude, I am so on top of things today. My list was checked off, the work was done, things were good. Bum, bum, buuuuuuuummmmmm. Cue the flier and the laugh track.

I can steal this minute and this minute and this minute and no one will know that I took them all for myself, because I didn't want to share. These minutes are for sitting, thinking, watching the sun, and feeling safe. And I am keeping them.

DIY

How to freak out your online discussion group: Talk about new mother's eating their placentas. No one will respond to my post. I dominate! My virtual classmates cower in the presence of my boldness and are left virtually speechless. Bwahahahaha! Put that in your psychological development pipe and smoke it.

Addendum

This week I also got to experience behind the scenes school stuff. This sends a thrill through me similar to the joy produced by walking in churches barefoot after hours or hearing my shoes echo as I walk down shiny hallways. There is a location, called School Supply, where all the mail for all the schools is sorted. Each school has its own slot and I got to sort out hundreds of packages into those slots. Thrilling! This is also where all the buses sleep and lie in wait for each school day.

The good Lord gave me peaches and the good Lord gave me bread

Today has not gone as planned.

1. I slept an extra hour (Inside my head: GO! GO! GO! GO! Outside my head: Mesljdospahdnononowakeupyetsldjkd)

2. Got Lost in Huntersville. Well, I knew where I was but not where the school I needed to find was. I have had savant-like navigational success this week (with some assistance from me dad), using a map like I was born with one in hand. GPS, not needed thanks, I am going to triangulate this old school style. Using a road trip phrase gleaned from Ethan, my map buddy, I was going to "feel my way" to all my locations. This worked for the past 20 schools. Not this morning. 2 Hours of random driving, witnessing car accidents, and getting stuck behind funeral processions, I decided to cut my losses and head to task two of the day: photo copies at the office.

3. No One Was at the Office. And the door was locked. And I can't get my parking ticket validated. So I leave, losing two dollars for a 10 minute stop, 45 minutes of driving, and no photo copies.

4. At Panera. Getting directions and drinking coffee I shouldn't drink and eating a free bagel I shouldn't eat (That's right girls, my confession). Recently swearing, AGAIN, to give up wheat lasted, oh, four days. My bagel was delicious. Why give up wheat, you ask? Well. My wellness plan for fighting illness this week (I have been sick all week, in addition to other chaos. The toddler I watch says, Christa I have something for you. I reach out my hand, what? Something from my nose, she replies, as she wipes a booger in my hand. Ah. Thank you.) included huge amounts of vegetable and fruit juice. I feel much better AND my eczema on my hand, which has been lingering forever, is clearing up magically. Coincidence? I think not. Dear Panera, stop giving me free food. Dear Self, grow a pair.

5. Today I want to stretch out in the sun (or in my bed), read books and let my mind empty of snot and thoughts (haha, that was going to be more poetic but I couldn't avoid adding the snot. Such a good word and very similar to our new positive adjective, SMAOT - which is hot and smart combined. The A is silent).

6. Before this week I had never used Vics Vapor Rub. And its magical. It always kind of freaked me out, but as I was rummaging through cabinets looking for anything cold relief oriented, I found the little blue jar. I'm telling you, magic. If you are feeling the smallest bit poorish, wrap up in blankets in your bed, smear this on your chest while snuggling a heating pad. Miraculous sleep will result.

7. The Last Thing Impeding Productivity: I am blogging at Panera. Must Go Back To Work.

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.

Tomorrow I have to make a video of why I will be a good nurse, why I would be good at Georgetown, and why, why, why. I also have to go get a driver's license. booooooo! The DMV is the devil! I plan to get up very, very early, to beat the crowds.

I am watching Garden State and I forgot how much I love it. Danny is coming up to spend New Years with me and I love that my dear brother is in such close proximity. Brothers are paradoxical; the two immediate thoughts that come into mind when regarding my dear ones are "I love you" and "Don't touch me."

I read "Iodine" by Haven Kimmel today and it was stunning and staggering. One of those books you want to understand, savor each word, and weep for the weight of it. I have a pile of books from the library and I want to breathe them all in. When I was younger, I used to wish that I could just place a finger on a book and gain total comprehension of it, no time wasted with the turning of pages.

I may have a job by Monday. This is the first of my major new years resolutions: employment.

Transition(ing)

I have landed, somewhat breathlessly, and am passing the ten minutes I have before I arrive a half hour early for my interview. You know how I do. I am tempted to walk from the Panera where I am perched, because I am nauseated at the sight of my car. And I keep hitting my head on things. I don't know what has happened to my depth perception, but my apparent lack of awareness that I even have a head has left me with several throbbing goose eggs. While I still claim that I possess a unique brand of grace, it is a grace not recognized by the world or gravity. I am unpacked. The whole process took two hours, which is lovely. I plan to take a nap as soon as possible. Moving into a room recently occupied by my brother was like an anthropological dig; I kept unearthing curious things that had no home, and as far as I could see, no purpose. Dan, I collected them all and put them in a drawer, so while I saw no purpose for them, they are there for you to redeem. For a price. Also, thanks for cleaning the bathroom. In conclusion, less is more, when traveling and re-inventing oneself.

I also plan to create Christa's Car Boot Camp, which will include the following skills and tips:

1. Always have a headlamp
2. How to change tires in a variety of simulated situations, including "The Village"
3. Don't watch crime shows, they just lead to overactive imaginations
4. How to defend yourself with a tire iron
5. How to pack your car: A guide to reaching essentials at essential moments
6. Books on tape are a saving grace
7. Things to never eat: chicken nuggets
8. Tell your bank you are traveling across the country
9. Tell your mom you are traveling across the country
10.How to survive driving, the modern day purgatorial experience.

The Sea Wolf Mutiny Records "The Last Season" by The Sea Wolf Mutiny — Kickstarter

My brother's glorious band, The Sea Wolf Mutiny, is raising money to record their album! You can click on the link above to hear their music, see them, give them your money, etc. etc. You are pre-purchasing an album, so money well spent. Help them reach their goal!

The guy next to me in Panera just said "I don't mean to cut my own thumbs off but...."

I think that is the worse expression I have ever heard in my entire life. Sir, please put down the metaphorical knife. Besides, once you cut off one thumb, I imagine it would be difficult, nay, impossible to cut off the other. So, sir, your turn of phrase is illogical in addition to being disgusting. Please stop talking.

Soup Day

There is something so nice about being at home, even if I am glued to the computer working on my project (most of the time).

It is really fallish out and the weather is now biting in the morning, the not-so-friendly temperatures ever dipping lower. The sun sets at 6:30, I have on several layers, and the smell of the wood stove burning hot makes everything better.

Yesterday I accidentally stabbed my biology teacher with a scalpel, much to my horror. I made her pumpkin muffins, so hopefully all is forgiven.

Today my CSA pick up was a delicious reminder that there is a beautiful plan in place. My items were as follows: Roma tomatoes, two mini eggplants, a daikon radish, one small cabbage, one even smaller onion, kale, something unknown, spaghetti squash, and a bag of green peppers. What do you see amidst all these ingredients? Cabbage soup of course! Here is the beauty part: The earth gives us these foods during this particular season and these foods are the perfect foods for fighting off the colds and sniffles that are the unfortunate hallmark of said season. Even diakon radish, which is a little bitter for my liking, is nourishing and perfectly hidden in my soup.
It makes me very happy.

Brown paper packages tied up with string.

New Things That I Love:

Noodletools: This website will automatically create you MLA or APA citations, making works cited no work at all. Brilliant and my life has changed for the better.

Grilled cheese with avocado: Okay, not really new, but good enough to include on any list. Also try it with a french inspired fried egg on top = magical.

Gloves and Dial Soap: I cleaned up a lot of poo this week. I like gloves.

Not failing midterms I didn't study enough for: such a relief.

Goofing off the computer lab at community college: It's quiet, everyone thinks you are working, and you have written half of your paper, so you feel a little justified in taking a break to write a blog post.

Weddings that reunite old friends: Okay, also not new. But this weekend was filled with delightful times with Alamosa alumni. Much story telling and laughing so hard that my face hurt. Dance parties in cars, naps in parks, tea houses, climbing trees, and love love love! Shawna slaved in the basement creating a quilt for the couple, I played cello in a skirt a leeeettle too short, the sun shined, and pacts were made for yearly reunions, hopefully on Halloweens, so we can continue to revel in costumes, rose petal gangs, and puppy dogs.

Boyfriends: Nice in too many ways to count.

Riding elevators when late to class: so swift and then you arrive just as the teacher is beginning.

Eating yogurt with a fork, spilling it on my microbiology book, and then licking it off: Ironic, no?

Jessa, Don't Look

Christa, a story.

Chapter 1: Christa's interview at gap.

It began well. I was well spoken and confident, giving many antidotes of my excellent customer service skills, making good eye contact, and smiling. It was a relatively short interview and as I was leaving, I glanced down and realized the top button of my dress (my non-gap dress) was undone. This crucial missing button left me in a state slightly scandalous and thus elucidated the interviewer's query if I had any concerns about the dress code. I have not heard back from them about the position.

Chapter 2: Homework.

There is too much of it.

Chapter 3: Roller Derby.

If there is anything I want to be when I grow up, its a roller derby girl. The speed, the drama, the fish net stockings - it all calls to some bad ass, pin-up-wanna-be part of my soul. At the Denver Roller Doll bouts there is a couch, black leather, called the couch of doom. This couch is perched right at the edge of the rink, giving you a perfect view of the action, also a large probability of being physically hurt as a chick comes ramming into you at full speed. But so worth it. To win a spot on the couch, you must win the a costume contest, getting the most cheers from the crowd. Joe (my roller derby friend) and I determined we must win this competition. We arrive at the bout last night in full costume: gorilla suits. Him: cape and gold pants, Me: mini skirt, wife beater with my gorilla derby name (banana splitz), and bandanna. People stared. (Its also important to note that my parents also attended this bout and were good enough to stand next to me even as folks stared). We enter the stadium and headed toward the couch, but upon our arrival we see people already in it! And not in costume! This one evening, apparently, for the first time ever, the couch of doom was given away by raffle. Sad and dejected, Joe and I dragged our long gorilla arms into the stands, where we sat in gorilla suits for the whole game, staring longingly at the couch of doom. I made two children cry, so convincing were our costumes.

Chapter 4: Sleep.

I need more of it.

Chapter 5: Church.

I am not there. I thought service started at 9:30 but it starts at 9:00. I am late, as usual. On normal days, this would not bother me and I would enter late, boldly yet quietly. But today I can't quite make myself go, as I would have to talk to people and sit. And really, today I just want to be alone.

Is it fate or my own idiocy that has thwarted the submission of my first application to the program I had decided was the perfect fit for myself and all of my nursing dreams? Hard to say. It's still a little too painful to go into all the hideous details of the application-that-wasn't, but I have a new plan, which is in effect, reducing my class load and giving me a better chance to earn some money while in school. So that is good. I guess.

Moving this week back to the mountain house!

Went camping with Jo-Nathan and his super fun extended family this week. We went on an amazing hike, played lots of games, laughed a lot, saw bears and moose (three moose sightings, one bear, though we heard many more bears through tent walls, yikes!), played with cute huskies, and converted some poor, helpless cousins to the world of nertz - Huzzah! It was the perfect post-school get away.

In other crucially important news:
I went to the doctor and had all my hypochondriac fears quieted (I don't have cancer or diabetes. yay.) and found out that I am an inch taller than I ever thought, a towering 5 ft and 8 in. I still think I am due two more inches, maybe I am still growing!

I am exhausted, debating treating myself to a cinematic treat but more likely will just go to bed early.

This week I have to:
move
go to fall CNA orientation
make three gladiator costumes
organize my life
get new tires and a headlight
sleep
dog sit
remember what day it is
get vaccinations and proof of vaccinations
sign up for the GRE
buy plane tickets to fun destinations
contemplate my existence
run so I don't disgrace my gladiator costume
go shopping with Laura
see Jessa (its been ages!!)
spend more time outside
take my mom out for a vegan milkshake for her birthday

Home.

No wonder there are so many churches in the south; as soon as you step outside, you experience immediate baptism by immersion, ushered into the church of the hot and sweaty. We are a glowing, moist congregation.

I wrote a love poem about a chair in atlanta:

Where You Once Were

vinyl and thigh must, at time of parting,
detach with a lingering grasp;
the separation is announced
with reluctant sighs

an impression, a well of past recline,
pools with the hot tears of a love lost.
both participants, animate and inanimate,
are marked by what has passed.

stagnant winds and heavy air, too,
preserve the memory.
until a new form is discovered,
where you once were will remain.

I have just rolled in to my apartment, dropped my suitcases, whipped up a cup of tea and now, a breath and then...homework.

burning!

I am in Atlanta, where it is sweltering. I went on a run this morning to capitalize on the low altitude only to find I am allergic to trees and its a sauna outside. A delicious sauna. Megan is babysitting and she gave me a map and a list of coffee shops to explore. My favorite thus far is javamonkey, with its dark interiors, easy wifi acess, and extensive tea list. Too bad I missed the part where they tell me how to use my little tea pot. The result: scalding tea all over my lap, table, and hands. Ouch. I figured out the tea pot, though. Apparently, you set it on top of your cup once its done brewing and it empties into your cup through the bottom. Brilliant, once you know not to touch the bottom of the tea pot. Check. Also, I am eating a cinnamon buttermilk muffin. I like it.


The playlist is largely Justin Timberlake, which is another contributing factor to my enjoyment of this establishment (you know you love him; he's gonna have you nak'd by the end of this song).

Get out of the city and into the sunshine.

Some pictures, including but not limited to: pie, fourth of july indoor picnic, cute kids in a furniture fence, my summer CSA produce (veggies galore!!), and a pretty mystery plant...does anyone know what it is? It came in my CSA bucket but I am dumbfounded.

July may just kill me. I have a crazy full schedule, wrapping up a whirlwind summer semester, and a lovely full social schedule. School applications are due, Amy is coming, Laura is home, a weekend trip to Atlanta and Asheville, final exams and projects! But it is all wonderful.

Final day at Whole Health: Friday the 13th. That's funny.

New top school: Georgetown! Could DC be my new home for the next four years?

Highlight of the day: CSA box came with rhubarb and I made a fantastic rhubarb jam, which I served with a ricotta pound cake at my chemistry study group. It was delicious and I can't wait to have it for breakfast. (Mmmm cake and jam for breakfast!)

Summer is buzzing by like a fly on a ... well, like a fly flying by. I guess.

Went on a hike, got a blister, walked the last 6 miles in my socks. Awesome.

School is great. Crazy, but great. Its the first time in a long time that I actually feel really good at something.

I am watching a Lady Gaga interview on Fuse (yes, yes I am) and I am kind of obsessed with her because she is ridiculous. She takes herself SO SERIOUSLY. I am like, dude, I think you are wearing part of an old bike or maybe its a trombone around your neck as jewelry, how can I listen to you say phrases like, "The music belongs with the people." Really, with the people? Good to know.

Other favorite phrases:
I have not yet defined my aesthetic.
Was I tormented in HS? Yes.
I'm a closer.
To me, music is a spiritual experience.
Its the yang to the yin of fame.
My little monsters (fans), I know what they need (referring to giving them pieces of her old wigs).
My show is like an exorcism.

I mean, it all sounds a little cliche for someone trying to be so original. Nothing personal, Lady Gaga, you just make me laugh.

"I don't know what happened in your life that caused you to develop a sense of humor as a coping mechanism, maybe it was a leg brace or corrective boot in your childhood, but anyway I am glad you are on my team."

-30 Rock

Yeah, that's me. Leg brace, kickball season, 4th grade. Let the riotous laughter begin.

Shirley Maclaine in Steel Magnolias is the most amazing thing ever.



Ever.

"In a spirit of mutinous resistance, she climbed the steep, grassy slope to the bridge, and when she stood on the driveway, she decided she would stay there and wait until something significant happened to her. This was the challenge she was putting to existence - she would not stir, not for dinner, not even for her mother calling her in. She would simply wait on the bridge, calm and obstinate, until events, real events, not her own fantasies, rose to her challenge, and dispelled her insignificance."

- Atonement

Last night I dreamed I was in the 1800s at a large party for Harriet Beecher Stowe, who I was, apparently, obsessed with. To show my affection, I made her a cake, a spicy Stowe cake. I can't recall all the details but the event was some sort of conference where I really had no place being. I slipped up to Stowe, told her how wonderful I thought she was and that if she had time, I had made her a cake. It wasn't until the end of the night that she declared she wanted some cake, so I whisked up the stairs (in my ball gown complete with hoop skirt), cut her a generous slice of cake, and topped it with Devonshire cream. And then, with everyone watching, she took a heaping bite...and loved it. Naturally. Thus we were declared friends forever.

My glasses spontaneously broke. There is one stem missing but thankfully I can still balance them on my nose with the other stem...Awkward but effective.

Another funny bonfire moment: At some point into the night, a boy jumped over the fire, which was startling because he ran right by us and then just leapt. A few minutes later, this little Asian girl asked me to move over and then she ran to leap over the fire. I gasped, and then screamed, "But you're short!!" as she leapt, because really, there was no physical way she would make it over. And she didn't. Thankfully she was quick on her feet and was able to keep her momentum moving forward and thus fell out of the fire. But kind of funny that I didn't choose to say, you know, Be Careful! or Jump High! Nope, You are Short was my warning.

Hung out with some Mormons tonight...got hit on by a Mormon boy. I felt kind of bad for the bait and switch (sorry kid, I'm protestant). He insisted I take his number. Turns out the whole event is was basically a giant singles/mating ritual. Good times.

Average time to walk to school: 15 minutes
Average time to read a chapter: 2.5 hours
Average time to do Chem Homework: 2.5 hours
Average time to do lab preparation: 3 hours
Average time to fall asleep: 3 femtoseconds

So week two of school has revealed a truth that we all know: I don't have a slow speed. As I look toward what the summer has in store for me and I see that I have to schedule a week long seminar class into the break in between the summer and fall semester, I realize that I will not have a true break until Christmas...heavens!

I think I attract interesting people or, maybe, I just see everyone as interesting. My Chem professor is a strange bird and yesterday he distributed a poem he wrote about chemistry. (Our extra credit on our exam is to learn the chemical formulas of the substances he mentions in the poem). Amazing! I totally had a Jim moment where I was looking for the camera to see if this was really happening. He read it aloud to us and we responded with a round of applause (brown-nose). It just makes me laugh so hard. I bet he will appreciate my lymerics.

Destiny

I am trying to come to grips with the fact that growing-up does not mean you ever know what you are doing. I treated myself to a movie yesterday - The Prince of Persia. It is my favorite kind of movie - light, action filled, with elements of the fantastic. And threaded with the theme of destiny.

I know I make fun of myself for being clumsy. I mean, I am a pretty easy target. But there are times when the epic inevitability of my clumsiness is just too much to take. Escaping my house after a less than productive afternoon, I walked to the grocery store, which is just a mile or so away from my house. As I bagged my groceries in the bags I brought (one made by Ms. Verch - thank ya ma'am!), I thought to myself, hmmm, I will carry my eggs by hand, so as not to break them. Unfortunately, one the way back home I straight out fell. Don't know what happened, there was nothing on the ground, I just fell. So there I was, on the side of the road, eggs cracked and broken, knees cut and bleeding. I walked home leaving a trail of blood and egg yolk, like some sort of twisted Hansel and Gretel.

Geek Out

It is time for me to embrace my inner geek. Little did I know a return to school would release my pent-up OCD; organizing notes, color-coded flash cards, knowing all the answers = yours rockin' truly. Yeah, I have already been made fun of in class for being type A. Just because I was the only one who did homework for the first lab when it wasn't required. I am thorough, ok!?! I watched Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, and felt affirmed that it was okay to be crazy and a geek. So that girl walking down the street with her ipod, fanny pack, and a stack of index cards bigger than your head? Yeah, that's me.

I just realized that when my landlord called me asking if I heard any parties over the weekend, he was asking if I had any parties over the weekend. Which is ludicrous. I do watch BBC movies late at night, is that crazy enough for you? Apparently the people below us moved out and broke their lease because of my raucous habits, aka cello playing, sewing frenzies, and old movies. Really kids? Have you met me? I am an old woman.

In other bad news, my lab practicals in Anatomy are spelling dependent, meaning I have to be able to spell. Which makes sense, but does not bode well. And tomorrow I find out the score of my Chem placement exam, which won't drop me from Chem but the prof might suggest that I step down to a lower level. Fat chance, lets just hope I got 1/3 of the questions right.

Day Two of School: Everything is okay. Except I have a lot of studying to do. LOTS.

Okay, but really. Today was the first day of Chemistry and the prof is amazing. He is from the Dominican Republic, has a great accent, and a great sense of humor. I will never be able to fully explain his awesomeness, but I will give you the best quotes from the lecture:


"I am like a diver, I can smell a rotten problem. I go straight in the ocean to kill the octopus."
"I am not here to destroy your dreams, I am here to add gas to your wings. I am a poet."
"I am like a hawk!"
"You don't care about magic?"
"Rum is the spirit of life."
"Even Marijuana growers use the scientific method to make the pot stronger. That is what I call American ingenuity!"
"You think Chemistry is dry? Bullshit."

I didn't even take notes on Chemistry, I just wrote down his jokes or his attempted jokes. I think there is still something of a language barrier. Instead of "I wasn't born yesterday," he said "I didn't wake up this morning." Ha.

LAST DAY!

Lessons from the farm:

Christa! Don't forget your gloves!

Christa! Don't forget your hat!

Christa! Don't forget your water!

Christa! Don't forget your suncreen!

I am exhausted from four hours of weeding, scratched from nettles and raspberry bushes and sore from digging holes, and my ankles (only my ankles) are sunburned. How did that happen?

I made up this lymric while I was weeding:

I am tired of weeding this thistle
Though it gives me time to whistle
It would go by fast
If we used a blast
Why don't we weed with a missle?

I love the farm.

I thought this was creepy.

But then I saw this and this.

I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair...

Today I, yet again, washed my hair with something that is not shampoo. I think it was my body wash since I would have noticed the little exfoliaters from my face wash. What a mystery.

The times, they are a changing...

Yep, that's right. I have put in my notice, switched from a year's notice to three weeks. Three weeks! That gives me three weeks to secure loans, a part time job, register, buy books and a calculator. OMG! We just went into super drive and will not stop for the next two, three, or five years. But the end goal I have in view is being able to make a living, buy land, move to the country, build gardens, own goats, help people, travel, and, eventually, find rest.

And do you know what stress makes me do? Bake. I have been a veritable machine, motivated by nerves and a desire to get rid of all the potential edible temptations in my house. Bread, cinnamon rolls, soup, and a gorgeous dark chocolate tart have all been churned out of the oven in the last 48 hours.

You all have to check out Jessa's "the-gal-who-I-introduced-to-sewing-and-then-she-vastly-surpassed-me-in-skill-and-creativity" new blog and etsy web site. More importantly, you need to check out the precious purses she just crafted. For reals.

It is late, I should not be up but I am.