Lovely, just lovely

I was really stressed this week trying to get things done and I couldn’t wait for the weekend, but in retrospect, it was a really good week. So, I’m going to give a little recap of my week by either what I learned in my classes (whoop-dee-do you’re thinking, but it is kind of interesting… I think).

1. Impressionism class: I don’t know what to do with my life, but I do know that I want to go to Europe. Everyday we look at paintings of Paris and all I want to do is to be walking down the Rue Clair eating a Nutella/banana crepe. Then I think about Vienna and waiting in line for standing room seats at the opera or walking down Kartnerstrasse stopping in H&M or Mango as I make my way down to Zanoni and Zanoni’s. And then I think about being in Poland and taking a little break for ice cream at Café Zetka.

These are from Poland. Top is from Krakow and the bottom from Gdansk.

2. Pearl of Great Price class: We discussed the purpose of questions in the scriptures and how they are for our own introspection. They help us to be accountable. I guess that’s why whenever someone asks me a question about something I should be doing and I haven’t been doing it I feel defensive. So when anyone asks me what I’m going to do when I graduate I get upset and slightly angry and then stressed.

3. Revelations class: I love this class. I think it’s fabulous. We have been talking about how there is a distinct plan that the world will follow and nothing will frustrate it. He uses the analogy (and I love analogies) of a composer and his symphony. The composer has just written notes on paper but to give it life he needs a conductor. Everything is written into the score, even discord and dissonance. But in order to give his symphony life he needs a conductor. In a way Christ is our conductor. Nothing will frustrate God because he’s already written it all in. I just thought it was cool.

4. Southern Baroque Art class: We’ve been learning about the Carracci family and especially Annibale (it’s pronounced Anee-ba-lay not Annabelle for something like that. That’s how I kept saying it). We were talking about the Farnese Gallery and how he was able to make it look like architecture. See, look how cool it is:

5. Bookbinding: I skipped it this week, but here is a picture of the book I made last week.

It's paste paper I made, sewn with white thread.

6. Calligraphy: I found a quote that I’m doing for my calligraphy project next week. It’s from Peter Pan (the play). I’m really excited about it. "When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies." While I practiced this week I watched North and South. It’s my new favorite movie. I loved it. And now I'm thinking about reading the book. Read this quote: "The clear conviction dawned upon her, shined bright upon her, that he did love her; that he had loved her; that he would love her." (Elizabeth Gaskell, N&S Chapter 25). I can't wait!

This Mr. Thorton with Miss Hale in the background.

There were also other good parts about the week. I wrote a paper, and got it done without staying up late or having to wake up early. I went to Pilates which is always fun despite the pain I'm in at the end. Dinner group went well on Monday. I made an egg bake and coffee cake. (I decided we'd have breakfast for dinner. And apparently that's what "Break the Fast" on Sunday is. Whoops. Well it's the Superbowl anyway. Not that I even know who's playing.) And best of all this week is I exercised reasonable self control in a lot of areas of my life and am still happy about it. (Cryptic. Yes. I don't want the whole four people who read my blog to know my deepest, darkest secrets!) And best of all, I'm going to see Thoroughly Modern Millie with Emma tonight and our tickets only cost $2 because Emma is a clever girl and in the Honors Program. Lucky me. Well until next time, you know you love me, xoxo.

Coconut

I love coconut. I like the flavor, I like the texture. Some people hate coconut. Yesterday was apparently National Pie Day. And I had aspirations to bake a pie. But after thinking about it for a little bit I opted instead to make a cake. My roommate suggested a coconut cake and I agreed that that would be a fantastic idea. I full intended to make that cake last night but when the suggestion of going to the volleyball game occurred, I decided to make that cake today. And I did. It's a three layer white cake with a delicious sour cream filling and a light whipped frosting. Paula Dean's cake looked like this:

It's perfectly level and looks delightfully delicious for coconut lovers like myself.

Unfortunately I decided to make one slight alteration with the final outcome of the cake. I like toasted coconut. But I didn't fully think out the repercussions that would cause for the presentation of the cake. Also my layers were not quite so level and they weren't even the same thickness. I swear I put the same amount of batter into each cake pan!

But after spending the afternoon to create my delicious Coconut Cake, I was thrilled with the taste of the cake.

If you are interested in making this cake (which I highly recommend) you can find it here.

Other than my cake extravaganza today I got up late, watched Bridget Jone's Diary on TBS while I ate breakfast, cleaned my room, did my part for our cleaning check, plucked my eyebrows, and searched for a quote for my Calligraphy project. It's been a successful day in my mind and will need to be supplemented slightly by a little homework and-- oh! My roommate is puppy sitting tonight for her brother and it just got here! Ha. There goes my night! Puppies! I love them! And coconut!

Long ago California Summers

When I was little I loved going to visit Grandma and Grandpa. They lived in California and had lots of fruit trees in the back yard. Every morning we had fresh squeezed orange juice. I used to sit on their porch swing with a bowl and a bag of cherries. (The bowl was for the pits.) Grandpa used to play the boogie woogie and we would either dance or take turns sitting on his lap as he played the song and bounced his knees. In the mornings I went with Grandma and Grandpa's on their morning walks around the neighborhood. I remember there being lots of trees and it was shady but not cold. Some days we would go to the "Funny farm" (why we called it that I have no idea) but the "Funny farm" had cows and pigs and it smelled awful but I liked watching the animals. Their house was also fun because they had cable and we would watch the Disney channel (back in the days of the Mickey Mouse club) and Nickelodeon. There was also a small plastic kiddie pool in the back yard and we would run around in our bathing suits all day. There were usually lots of cousins around to play with. One of the best parts of staying with Grandma was climbing into bed with them in the mornings. And it was really cool because they had a water bed! Not just any old water bed, but one that was so high you had to climb stairs to get to it! I would snuggle in with them on Grandma's side as Grandpa tried to hide his messy "Harline hair". We would giggle and Grandma would try not to breath on me because she said she had bad breath.

This morning when I got up I got out of bed I stumbled into the bathroom looked in the mirror and was amazed at how relatively good I looked. I debated whether or not I should take a shower or attempt to just go like I was since I still had some of yesterday's make up on and my bangs were not greased down and I had some cute curls coming down out of my messy bun, and I only had work and one class and would be home relatively early. But then the thought of jumping in a warm shower overpowered my laziness and I started the water.

I jumped out of the shower shortly after a knock from my roommate indicating she wanted the bathroom, so I grabbed all the things I might possibly need out of the bathroom while she was in there. Blowdryer-check, hair cream-check, face lotion-check, round brush-check. In my room I plugged in my blowdryer and smelled something foul. I smelled my blowdryer, no, not that. I smelled the towel on my head, nope, just lovely shampoo-conditioner smell. I smelled a few more things but didn't smell it again so I went about my business. I was caught of guard when I smelled it again. It smelled vaguely familiar. I tried to pinpoint what the smell was coming from. And I couldn't quite figure out what it was that was so familiar. And then with a slightly exasperated exhale I smelled it again, and realized that that smell, that really bad smell, was my breath. I hoped I was wrong but breath tested it anyway. Running through my brain was a series of questions: Is that really coming from me? (Breath test again) Oh my gosh, it is! What, did I eat last night? (Grapenuts) Did I brush my teeth before I went to bed? (Debatable) I thought gosh, if I slept with my mouth open I bet my breath wouldn't smell so bad. The smell was slightly familiar, but distant. I tried to figure out what it was. What does this smell remind me of?

And then it hit me. I smelled like my Grandma. I have Grandma breath. I have adult breath. Where did breath like that originate? But as I extinguished the smell with my new peppermint flavored toothpaste, I thought of Grandma and the smell that will always remind me of summers spent as a little girl in California.

No title today

My heart is heavy. I am stressed, under-rested and apprehensive about what the future has for me. Although the prospect of graduation and being finished with school is exciting and obviously desirable, I wonder what will happen when I’m finished. I will need to get a job, internship, more schooling or whatever I do, something I want to do.

But on this day January 14, 2009 I haven’t a clue what I want to do. I want to work in a museum, but what if I don’t like it? I don’t have teaching credentials. I don’t know if I want to go to graduate school. I don’t really know what I’d go to grad school to study, and if I’d even be accepted.

I partly lament the fact that I never expected to be at this point in my life and single. It’s true, I’m not old. Twenty-four is not old. So why am I worried about that too? I know it will work out. Well, at least I have hope that it will.

I think I’m extra cranky about my future right now because something set me off and it always seems to be a downward spiral and it’s all expedited because I’m tired. This last weekend left me exhausted. I stayed up way too late Friday night and had to attend a bridal shower first thing in the morning, which was followed by an afternoon wedding reception for another friend. I saw a movie that night, went to bed late again and had an incredibly unrelaxing Sunday that was filled with meetings and the like. No homework was accomplished leaving me unprepared and nervous about classes this week as I try to balance the visit of my mom and sister for more lovely wedding celebrations of yet a third person.

My mind is crowded with things learned in my classes and other distractions to my sanity. We’re learning about the French Revolution in preparation to learn about the philosophies of the Impressionists, and it’s really depressing. Because of Napoleon and some of his ideas and policies, women in France didn’t have the right to vote until the 1940s and only in the 1970s were women finally allowed to have their own bank account and hold property. I learned the root of nepotism and how it is directly related to 17^th Century Catholicism in Italy and the power given to the Papal Nephew (the pope’s nephew), this lead to me thinking about the differences between my church and the Catholic church, and then to thinking about my mission. I saw The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and cannot get the story out of my head.

I need to learn to separate myself better, but I cannot imagine having the stress and the sadness that would come from having a completely perfectly working mind but not being able to move at all except for one eye. I’m going to a wedding reception tonight. I opted out of going to the sealing this afternoon. I’m glad I’m not going. I have so much to do this week. I have two hours of calligraphy practice. I told Cami her Christmas present journal would be done today. It’s not, and it won’t be. I still haven’t finished the Visiting Teaching assignments and it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I need to read for Southern Baroque Art so that I can be prepared for our quiz. I also need to buy supplies for Calligraphy. And overall, all I want to do is go to bed with a big bowl of ice cream and let my heavy heart relax.

But the best news of all is that it’s a three-day weekend and I’m going to take full advantage of it in my pajamas.

Socks and Shoes

I don't really like socks. I don't like how my feet can't breath. Winter stifles the life out of my feet and all that seems left is the slight stench of decay and despair. I have to wear socks because otherwise my feet will get cold and my shoes might get smelly. Because I don't like socks that much I don't have very many. I go home every break and have to raid my mom's drawer for socks to wear to the gym because I inevitably forgot to bring some home, or the only ones I did bring home have hearts or polka dots or stripes on them. I especially hate wearing socks to bed. They severely interfere with my sleeping causing me to increasingly get "stuck" in the covers. But my room is cold, really cold, so I have to sleep in full sleeping regalia, and it's really uncomfortable. I now sleep under two fleece blankets and two feather blankets, I have leggings that keep my legs warm and a long sleeved shirt for my upper body and arms to stay cozy, and socks. Stupid socks. One of the worst parts about being a Sister Missionary is that you have to wear nylons all the time. Even when it's hot outside. Of course I only wore knee highs in the summer, but it was still relatively unbearable in the record breaking hot summer of 2006. So I hate socks.

Actually I don't really like shoes either, they equally restrict the freedom of my toes. I can't do barefeet, but I can do cute t-strap flat sandals, or simple flip flops, or strappy flats. But, I don't have a wide enough range of winter suited shoes. True I have tons of shoes that cover the floor of my closet and the shoe hanger on the back of my door is half empty because the shoes that go in there are the ones I wear most frequently so they're strewn about my room, but they're church shoes (heels) or sandals, and I just don't have good winter shoes. True I inherited two pairs of boots from Missionary Jess and have a pair of black heeled boots and a pair of jean boots with little baby chicks on the side, and a pair that I got for Christmas, but I can't wear any of those because of various reasons including: no high heels to school; would look cuter with jeans tucked in but I don't have skinny jeans; too similarly matched to my pants; don't want to ruin them in the snow; don't fit comfortably over my spectacularly muscled calves. So why don't I just get more shoes that are "winter shoes"? Because they just aren't that cute.

But what really got me on this topic of socks and shoes is the fact that I'm wearing two different socks today. One is pink and the other is white with pink and red hearts. Because of the cut of my shoes and pants, both socks are visible when sitting. Mismatched socks are not bad, they're not a crime. And actually if you wear mismatched socks, you'll never worry about matching the socks when they come out of the dryer. (I hate doing that.) And one of the coolest people I know wears mismatched socks all the time. So, the fact that I hate socks, and then with me wearing mismatched ones makes me laugh and I've been half giggly and half self conscious about them all day.

I can't drive

I’m not very good at driving in snow. There isn’t a lot of snow in Oregon, and when we do have it the city is basically shut down. So the snow that has been falling for the last two days solid in Provo has severely inhibited my driving. Yesterday I got nervous to drive to Smiths but I made it home safely. I slipped multiple times just walking to and from school today, so today when I had to drive to Bookbinding I worried that I would have some car problem. (You know, because I’m paranoid and slightly pessimistic.) As I drove back from dinner tonight I lamented the fact that I probably wouldn’t get a parking spot in one of the covered spots. Well, it turned out my fears were justified and there were no spots underneath. The parking spots in the back are really small and it’s usually necessary to do some maneuvering to park straight, but when I tried to do that I couldn’t move at all. I looked up and saw some guy cleaning the snow off his car. I got out of the car and apologetically said something lame like, “Hi, sorry, um, I don’t really know how to drive in snow well and I’m stuck.” The guy, who’s pretty attractive by the way, comes over to push my car. When we got my car moving, he told me it would probably be smarter for me to park where the ground is more level (meaning the back of the parking lot). Somehow, miraculously, I got my car stuck again as I tried to park in another spot. By then, my attractive helper has been joined by a girl, who calls him Babe. I sat in the car laughing thinking of the awkwardness of the situation and wondering if I should get out of the car and ask for help again. Of course he’s not only being attractive but very helpful and came over to my car asking if I need help again before I even got out of the car. He pushed my car out again and then asked if it would be ok if he drove my car. Obviously since I can’t drive in the snow I jumped out of the car letting him get in and re-park the car for me. How embarrassing. I tend to think of myself as pretty strong and independent and I had to have a guy come and park my car tonight because I couldn’t do it. Wow. Never again.