Hurrah for the simply glorious weather we've been having here. Hurrah for Erik coming tomorrow, hurrah for me e-mailing my regrets and skipping out of Writing for Your Life in favor of all the things I should really be doing, hurrah for pancakes next Friday and the honors banquet in April and folk dancing on my birthday and Basileia two weeks later and English-goodness-and-karate next semester. Hurrah for Kat-of-the-gorgeous-photography being one of my partners for the last Text and Image project.
Hurrah for a change on this blog, hurrah.
-Laurel
3.31.2006
3.27.2006
Transit gloria, that's for goshdarn sure
Um, so after my spectacular first crit last month, this time Haley and I learned that if you come in trailing blood, the sharks will go for the kill. I mentioned in the previous entry that we had a lot of problems--let me point out, by the way, that when I said last night that the layout was really bad, I was not slamming Haley: photos are her responsibility; layout is joint-responsibility, hers and mine.
Anyway, the problems actually ended up being far worse than just the unevenness of our pictures and text: InDesign really screwed up the color quality of Haley's images when she resized them, so badly that Roger actually had her put up the prints she'd scanned, so everyone could see that her actual pictures weren't at fault--this would be less of a problem in any other class, but as a photography student, Haley's grade rides on such things--and, which I didn't realize until someone pointed it out mid-crit, Haley's last-minute resizing of our margins (necessary for her pictures and not her fault), when I wasn't there (I left just before 1 to get some sleep, since I also had a paper to write for today), led to the program cutting pieces out of at least two of my paragraphs. Thank goodness I didn't read it before crit; we were the last group to go, and I would have spent the class horrified if I'd known, since by then there was no way to fix it.
Susan and Roger, the professors, were actually the nicest of anybody; peer-wise, we got pretty well mangled. Thirty-five minutes up there. I did manage to get through the actual crit without melting down crying, which was the only real upside to the whole thing.
The nicest comment came from Susan, who told us how obviously well Haley and I had worked as a team. She's perhaps the best project partner I've ever had, and the whole thing really made us friends. It was nice that that was obvious.
I have never put so much into a project and gotten so little out. Oh my gosh, what didn't we do for that wretched thing. Haley learned InDesign; I read photojournalism books; we sank hours and hours into everything. There's no formal revision and re-crit this time round, but Susan actually told us that we, and pretty much we alone, could do it anyway if we wanted--the merciful, but dreadful, private second chance. But I don't think we have the time, and anyway, textually it would need another interview with Margaret. Having done four of them already, I don't think I've got the heart for that. Honestly, I never did, which was half my problem; I don't know how to deal with a human subject that frightens me.
What on earth must everyone think of me? I implied criticism--and, horror and shame, some even considered it ridicule--toward a lady with a disease and a comeback story. But it wasn't that that I was criticizing, it was everything else she was. I couldn't let it be just a feel-good. I couldn't pretend it was simple. I know they would have liked it better if I'd drawn the questionable moral, the positive one that said that the contradictions she lives don't matter because she's learned how to be well. But I don't believe that; it was not that simple. So I left it as open as I knew how. Haley agreed with me, and she and I tried to explain all of that.
It doesn't matter now.
The afternoon went better; the paper for Recent American went well, and got finished on time despite my getting back to my room over half an hour late (crit always runs over, and then there was the taking down and aftermath). I got to know the book really well, which is always helpful discussion-wise. I've since gotten more sleep, which is always good. The rest of the week should be fairly light, though next week is already shaping up to chaos, and maybe I'll get some time to do nothing.
-Laurel
Anyway, the problems actually ended up being far worse than just the unevenness of our pictures and text: InDesign really screwed up the color quality of Haley's images when she resized them, so badly that Roger actually had her put up the prints she'd scanned, so everyone could see that her actual pictures weren't at fault--this would be less of a problem in any other class, but as a photography student, Haley's grade rides on such things--and, which I didn't realize until someone pointed it out mid-crit, Haley's last-minute resizing of our margins (necessary for her pictures and not her fault), when I wasn't there (I left just before 1 to get some sleep, since I also had a paper to write for today), led to the program cutting pieces out of at least two of my paragraphs. Thank goodness I didn't read it before crit; we were the last group to go, and I would have spent the class horrified if I'd known, since by then there was no way to fix it.
Susan and Roger, the professors, were actually the nicest of anybody; peer-wise, we got pretty well mangled. Thirty-five minutes up there. I did manage to get through the actual crit without melting down crying, which was the only real upside to the whole thing.
The nicest comment came from Susan, who told us how obviously well Haley and I had worked as a team. She's perhaps the best project partner I've ever had, and the whole thing really made us friends. It was nice that that was obvious.
I have never put so much into a project and gotten so little out. Oh my gosh, what didn't we do for that wretched thing. Haley learned InDesign; I read photojournalism books; we sank hours and hours into everything. There's no formal revision and re-crit this time round, but Susan actually told us that we, and pretty much we alone, could do it anyway if we wanted--the merciful, but dreadful, private second chance. But I don't think we have the time, and anyway, textually it would need another interview with Margaret. Having done four of them already, I don't think I've got the heart for that. Honestly, I never did, which was half my problem; I don't know how to deal with a human subject that frightens me.
What on earth must everyone think of me? I implied criticism--and, horror and shame, some even considered it ridicule--toward a lady with a disease and a comeback story. But it wasn't that that I was criticizing, it was everything else she was. I couldn't let it be just a feel-good. I couldn't pretend it was simple. I know they would have liked it better if I'd drawn the questionable moral, the positive one that said that the contradictions she lives don't matter because she's learned how to be well. But I don't believe that; it was not that simple. So I left it as open as I knew how. Haley agreed with me, and she and I tried to explain all of that.
It doesn't matter now.
The afternoon went better; the paper for Recent American went well, and got finished on time despite my getting back to my room over half an hour late (crit always runs over, and then there was the taking down and aftermath). I got to know the book really well, which is always helpful discussion-wise. I've since gotten more sleep, which is always good. The rest of the week should be fairly light, though next week is already shaping up to chaos, and maybe I'll get some time to do nothing.
-Laurel
Well, this has been a mediocre day.
Have spent the last eleven hours working on my Text and Image project, some of it with Haley, some of it not. I was supposed to be writing my paper for Recent American by ten tonight (last night?) at the latest, but InDesign has proven to be a nightmare and I'm not going to get out of here until one. Crit is tomorrow and Haley and I are sunk, because, to be honest, the text is bad and the layout is worse.
So let me just say, wahhhhh.
-Laurel
So let me just say, wahhhhh.
-Laurel
3.25.2006
After the Ball (heehee)
Despite foolishly, in all the confusion, leaving my door unlocked for the entire time I was gone tonight(!), the IV semi-formal was amazing. No Tim, no Erik, but no tragedy. Though it would have been lovely to have either of them there (perhaps particularly Erik, since he would have danced with me if he'd been able to come).
If you wait long enough and enough people are doing it and at least a couple of them look as dorky as I imagine I do, I will actually freestyle-dance, it turns out. I know this principle has been illustrated before, but hey.
And I got a flower, because the BASIC boys were all kinds of classy and bought enough for every girl (that must've been so expensive...wow). So yay!
(Also yay: I actually knew most of the non-swing music, 'cause most of it was Newsboys or WoW 2001. Seriously, if you think there's a music genre you just can't stand, listen to Christian music in it and see if that helps.)
Was a good day workin' the honors table; the roommate crisis is over 'cause it turns out to be okay if I don't find one(!). Got my paper for Recent American pretty well outlined, though I still have to do the actual writing. Had a whole day of not eating in the dining halls (good from a treat standpoint; bad from a meal-swipe standpoint). Wore a soft, fuzzy dress and then, better still, got it dirty having lots and lots of fun.
"I say, consider this day seized!"
-Laurel
If you wait long enough and enough people are doing it and at least a couple of them look as dorky as I imagine I do, I will actually freestyle-dance, it turns out. I know this principle has been illustrated before, but hey.
And I got a flower, because the BASIC boys were all kinds of classy and bought enough for every girl (that must've been so expensive...wow). So yay!
(Also yay: I actually knew most of the non-swing music, 'cause most of it was Newsboys or WoW 2001. Seriously, if you think there's a music genre you just can't stand, listen to Christian music in it and see if that helps.)
Was a good day workin' the honors table; the roommate crisis is over 'cause it turns out to be okay if I don't find one(!). Got my paper for Recent American pretty well outlined, though I still have to do the actual writing. Had a whole day of not eating in the dining halls (good from a treat standpoint; bad from a meal-swipe standpoint). Wore a soft, fuzzy dress and then, better still, got it dirty having lots and lots of fun.
"I say, consider this day seized!"
-Laurel
My PR-oriented dad would be proud. Or maybe jealous.
So I disagree with their argument that going to a mediocre college is worse than not going, but the rest of this is pretty darn good...not to mention that it's oddly reminiscent of the "End of the World" flash video, with which I'd estimate at least a good 30% familiarity among the high school population.
http://admissions.kettering.edu/schooldaze/
Incidentally, I have shortish hair now. Those with Facebook should check out my post-Locks-of-Love pic. Yayyy for bringing sunshine into alopecia ariata (turns out the wigs don't go to kids with cancer). And as an added bonus, I've gotten so many positive reviews of my hair that I'm starting to wonder whether anyone liked it long. ::giggles::
Today: workin' the honors table in my own little exercise in PR; doing some of my paper for Recent American (I hope!); going to the IV semi-formal. Sandy says that the count is such that people are allowed to come to the dance last-minute; if I can't get Tim to come, then gosh darn it I am calling Erik and asking him.
-Laurel
http://admissions.kettering.edu/schooldaze/
Incidentally, I have shortish hair now. Those with Facebook should check out my post-Locks-of-Love pic. Yayyy for bringing sunshine into alopecia ariata (turns out the wigs don't go to kids with cancer). And as an added bonus, I've gotten so many positive reviews of my hair that I'm starting to wonder whether anyone liked it long. ::giggles::
Today: workin' the honors table in my own little exercise in PR; doing some of my paper for Recent American (I hope!); going to the IV semi-formal. Sandy says that the count is such that people are allowed to come to the dance last-minute; if I can't get Tim to come, then gosh darn it I am calling Erik and asking him.
-Laurel
3.24.2006
For your retroactive amusement
Found, while cleaning out a drawer, a slip of paper from the DC trip this summer with the following jokes on it, which I will attempt to explain at least a little:
-"Call Me Madame President": I think this must've been on someone's shirt; I recorded it because somehow Tim ended up being called "Madame President" for APO (I think because he succeeded Kristin).
-"Quebec: Providing Emotions Since 1534": On a pro-tourism poster in the subway. That is, it was Quebec's actual tourism motto for a while. Think of that.
-"Moby Dick House of Kebab": One of the restaurants in Georgetown. The name was funny enough to write down.
-"King of Falafel and Cheesesteak": See above. I mean, anywhere else, if you were naming a restaurant, you'd call it Falafel King or something. But KoFaC? Maybe they were trying to avoid a lawsuit from Burger King.
That's really all I have. I can throw the paper out now that I've fulfilled its purpose, since I'm pretty sure I intended for those to end up here anyway.
-Laurel
-"Call Me Madame President": I think this must've been on someone's shirt; I recorded it because somehow Tim ended up being called "Madame President" for APO (I think because he succeeded Kristin).
-"Quebec: Providing Emotions Since 1534": On a pro-tourism poster in the subway. That is, it was Quebec's actual tourism motto for a while. Think of that.
-"Moby Dick House of Kebab": One of the restaurants in Georgetown. The name was funny enough to write down.
-"King of Falafel and Cheesesteak": See above. I mean, anywhere else, if you were naming a restaurant, you'd call it Falafel King or something. But KoFaC? Maybe they were trying to avoid a lawsuit from Burger King.
That's really all I have. I can throw the paper out now that I've fulfilled its purpose, since I'm pretty sure I intended for those to end up here anyway.
-Laurel
3.22.2006
For your amusement
The roommate search is still going down the sink, but in the meantime:
This is from the site accioBRAIN!, which I still have bookmarked from when Aneya sent it to me this summer, and came captioned "SPEW does not approve." It's clearly from this past December, but I still laughed aloud. Enjoy.
-Laurel
This is from the site accioBRAIN!, which I still have bookmarked from when Aneya sent it to me this summer, and came captioned "SPEW does not approve." It's clearly from this past December, but I still laughed aloud. Enjoy.
-Laurel
3.19.2006
A wah-let (that is, small "wah")
You would think, wouldn't you, that knowing as many females as I do this year (for once in my goshdarn college life), ONE of them would fulfill both of the following requirements:
a) being in honors
b) wanting/being able to room with me in the honors house next year, now that my roommate is apparently not returning next fall.
You would be wrong. As, apparently, was I.
-Laurel
a) being in honors
b) wanting/being able to room with me in the honors house next year, now that my roommate is apparently not returning next fall.
You would be wrong. As, apparently, was I.
-Laurel
Blast from the hometown past
For your enjoyment, ladies and gentlemen of the Chicken Barbecue of 2002 (and whoever-else is reading), the often-shameless, ever-enjoyable...
"Manly Men," by Kurt Knecht
We are men! And we like to sing,
In big block chords and close harmony.
Our songs all sound the same,
And most of them are really lame.
But though we may not always inspire,
At least we're not a women’s choir.
First tenors have the highest voice,
For most of us it's not by choice.
Singing still at twenty-three,
Like we missed our puberty.
When our pitch turns sour,
We just sing a little louder.
Tight underwear's the key
To singing a high C.
Second tenors are not geeks,
We're just first tenors with poor techniques,
But should you love us any less
Just because we crack when we try to sing an F?
We don't sing too high, and we don't sing too low,
And we're not as arrogant as the first tenors we know.
We just want you to love us like the rest
Of the "Pips" and "Garfunkels" who are second-best.
Baritones are by far the sexiest!
Feast your ears upon our vocal studliness.
We will sing when we're just forty-five
With vibratos five miles wide!
If God came down and took
Our brains away,
We'd be sopranos, anyway.
We are tired of root progressions,
Walking bass lines, record sessions
Where all we sing is that stupid "dip dip dip dip dah."
We try so hard with all our mights
To sing so low, we shake the lights.
We wish we had voices like
James Earl Jones or Barry White,
But we're just human, our throats are hurting
And our low singing sounds more like burping,
But we're the basses, we keep singing,
'Cause...
We are men! And we like to sing,
In big block chords and close harmony.
Our songs all sound the same,
Like bad rewrites of "There is Nothing Like a Dame"!
But though our repertoire consists of
Drinking songs, and sailor songs, and barbershop quartets,
We thank God every day,
From our head down to our toes,
That we are not sopranos or altos.
Amen [lower parts: "or tenors"]!
And the best part? There's a free mp3 of it on Kurt Knecht's website. Go get it or comment here and I'll send it to you. :-D
(A warning, though, to D'Artagnan: Tim is considering putting this on for the honors banquet. If you don't want to be recruited, run.)
-Laurel
"Manly Men," by Kurt Knecht
We are men! And we like to sing,
In big block chords and close harmony.
Our songs all sound the same,
And most of them are really lame.
But though we may not always inspire,
At least we're not a women’s choir.
First tenors have the highest voice,
For most of us it's not by choice.
Singing still at twenty-three,
Like we missed our puberty.
When our pitch turns sour,
We just sing a little louder.
Tight underwear's the key
To singing a high C.
Second tenors are not geeks,
We're just first tenors with poor techniques,
But should you love us any less
Just because we crack when we try to sing an F?
We don't sing too high, and we don't sing too low,
And we're not as arrogant as the first tenors we know.
We just want you to love us like the rest
Of the "Pips" and "Garfunkels" who are second-best.
Baritones are by far the sexiest!
Feast your ears upon our vocal studliness.
We will sing when we're just forty-five
With vibratos five miles wide!
If God came down and took
Our brains away,
We'd be sopranos, anyway.
We are tired of root progressions,
Walking bass lines, record sessions
Where all we sing is that stupid "dip dip dip dip dah."
We try so hard with all our mights
To sing so low, we shake the lights.
We wish we had voices like
James Earl Jones or Barry White,
But we're just human, our throats are hurting
And our low singing sounds more like burping,
But we're the basses, we keep singing,
'Cause...
We are men! And we like to sing,
In big block chords and close harmony.
Our songs all sound the same,
Like bad rewrites of "There is Nothing Like a Dame"!
But though our repertoire consists of
Drinking songs, and sailor songs, and barbershop quartets,
We thank God every day,
From our head down to our toes,
That we are not sopranos or altos.
Amen [lower parts: "or tenors"]!
And the best part? There's a free mp3 of it on Kurt Knecht's website. Go get it or comment here and I'll send it to you. :-D
(A warning, though, to D'Artagnan: Tim is considering putting this on for the honors banquet. If you don't want to be recruited, run.)
-Laurel
3.16.2006
Humor(?) break
Tim and I were talking about how soon graduation is (for him, anyway).
Me [teasing]: "So what are you going to do with the rest of your life?"
Tim [apparently exhausted by thesis work, classes, etc.]: "There's going to be a rest of my life?"
Me: "Well, I assume you won't die as they hand you the diploma..."
[Tim laughs.]
Tim: "That'd be...my parents would be like, 'Man! All those bills! Couldn't he have croaked a year earlier?'"
::snorts:: Awful. But funny.
::sudden thought:: Dang! I missed the Ides of March again! Ah, well. On the other hand, I have some chapstick around, so celebrating this should be no problem.
-Laurel
Me [teasing]: "So what are you going to do with the rest of your life?"
Tim [apparently exhausted by thesis work, classes, etc.]: "There's going to be a rest of my life?"
Me: "Well, I assume you won't die as they hand you the diploma..."
[Tim laughs.]
Tim: "That'd be...my parents would be like, 'Man! All those bills! Couldn't he have croaked a year earlier?'"
::snorts:: Awful. But funny.
::sudden thought:: Dang! I missed the Ides of March again! Ah, well. On the other hand, I have some chapstick around, so celebrating this should be no problem.
-Laurel
3.15.2006
::again playing Newsboys's "The Tide"::
This entry's gotten redone like three times, and every time it says less. All I really have to say right now, ultimately, is that my life feels really big and complex still, and though I'm meeting with a lot of success, I'm also meeting with a lot of questions. It's not like last year, which was all angst; I'm less afraid of screwing up my life and simply suffering from a lack of surety and patience. I figure I'll eventually get to where things're clear and right, or as much so as they're ever about to be, but I'm feeling a little stranded in the meantime.
It's amazing, though, how much I feel like I've come back to myself in getting more deliberately back into my faith. Like, I know smart people have already said things about that and it's one of those principles where either you're skeptical or you want to go um, duh. But I mean it; it's like last year I was dealing with somebody else. And I didn't even not believe; it's just that I was, to some degree deliberately, unimmersed, holding faith at a sort of arm's-length, trying too hard to control who I was being made into. It turns out, of course, that it's hard to really be happy that way. Like everyone insists, the more you give of yourself, the realer you get it back, and the more you focus on heaven, the more the earth falls into place. Even, it turns out, when you don't exactly know who you're supposed to be.
And, because the above paragraph is to some degree loaded, a long aside: the kind of representative soundbites of Christianity that typically make the news are really skewed to one side of the religio-political spectrum or the other. I'm less wary of the media than almost anyone I know, but even I think they'd serve us better to look for what's most profoundly out there, instead of who's shouting the loudest. Hear me: the most dedicated Christian people I know are not figures to fear. They are real, balanced, and super-smart, and while you may not agree with every opinion they hold (hey, often enough they don't agree with each other, either), they're the kind of people you trust with your life and your mind and your friendship and then some. They don't call you evil for not agreeing with them, if you don't. Immersing yourself in faith alongside people like these is a wonderful thing to have happen to you. And I think that's where I've landed.
I'm going to call it an early night (it's actually about quarter after nine, not six-something as it says below; I've been working on this entry for, like, ever, and the timestamp-change option's being weird). Um, so home friends should come and visit me, in that I have an absolutely horrifying number of extra meals. Or school friends should mooch heavily off of me. Whatever.
-Laurel
It's amazing, though, how much I feel like I've come back to myself in getting more deliberately back into my faith. Like, I know smart people have already said things about that and it's one of those principles where either you're skeptical or you want to go um, duh. But I mean it; it's like last year I was dealing with somebody else. And I didn't even not believe; it's just that I was, to some degree deliberately, unimmersed, holding faith at a sort of arm's-length, trying too hard to control who I was being made into. It turns out, of course, that it's hard to really be happy that way. Like everyone insists, the more you give of yourself, the realer you get it back, and the more you focus on heaven, the more the earth falls into place. Even, it turns out, when you don't exactly know who you're supposed to be.
And, because the above paragraph is to some degree loaded, a long aside: the kind of representative soundbites of Christianity that typically make the news are really skewed to one side of the religio-political spectrum or the other. I'm less wary of the media than almost anyone I know, but even I think they'd serve us better to look for what's most profoundly out there, instead of who's shouting the loudest. Hear me: the most dedicated Christian people I know are not figures to fear. They are real, balanced, and super-smart, and while you may not agree with every opinion they hold (hey, often enough they don't agree with each other, either), they're the kind of people you trust with your life and your mind and your friendship and then some. They don't call you evil for not agreeing with them, if you don't. Immersing yourself in faith alongside people like these is a wonderful thing to have happen to you. And I think that's where I've landed.
I'm going to call it an early night (it's actually about quarter after nine, not six-something as it says below; I've been working on this entry for, like, ever, and the timestamp-change option's being weird). Um, so home friends should come and visit me, in that I have an absolutely horrifying number of extra meals. Or school friends should mooch heavily off of me. Whatever.
-Laurel
3.14.2006
Nerd's log, supplemental
The psychology classes, on the other hand, are in my opinion overwhelmingly lame. So, heck, I only need eight credits left for the minor and can easily finish it in the spring next year (I'll only need psych electives; Cognitive this semester finishes out my requireds). I shall fill my days with English goodness and karate(!!!!), which looks to have come back, and my fall semester shall be academically joyous.
Cheerio; off to get ready to go into town for my Text and Image project.
-Laurel
Cheerio; off to get ready to go into town for my Text and Image project.
-Laurel
going to bed early = getting up early
Ah! the sheer nerdy joy of the fall course catalog being up for school! and the sadness of the graduation of about half the people who're nerdy about it with me!
But at least Matt and Kathy can be nerdy with me now, heehee. Matt and I ought to try to have an English class together; that'd be fun. ...And, dang, are the English classes good for next semester! ::squee!::
Happy Pi Day/birthday of Einstein and other smart people. :-P
-Laurel
But at least Matt and Kathy can be nerdy with me now, heehee. Matt and I ought to try to have an English class together; that'd be fun. ...And, dang, are the English classes good for next semester! ::squee!::
Happy Pi Day/birthday of Einstein and other smart people. :-P
-Laurel
3.12.2006
3.11.2006
De Madrid
Um, so we got waylaid in Madrid, hopefully just ´til tomorrow.
I´m not going to explain it all, but the short version thus: there are only about four flights per day from Spain to the US, all in the morning, and US-Air´s is the last one. We were signed up with them, and through various complications, mostly not our fault, we missed theirs. Since they decided it wasn´t their fault we missed it, they wouldn´t help us any more than to put us on standby for tomorrow´s flight, which´s full, but people should drop out of it.
So here we are at a nice Madrid hotel, the only one we know of, and in about eight hours we should have some idea of whether we´re getting home tomorrow.
Trying to get a hold of my dad and brother again (no emergency, just to talk), since they actually managed to call the hotel some hours ago, I´ve temporarily broken my AIM-fast, and am at this moment talking to Kristin because it just feels so darn good. Good thing I didn´t do it specifically for Lent. My dad and brother aren´t even online. It´s not like I couldn´t go without it, but it´s like, okay, there´s no sense in being overly frum about this (now we´re doing Jewish law!), even if it feels religious anyway, because I´m like 29593985394590 miles from home and what a time we´ve had.
But I´ve about used up the half-hour that patrons are requested to limit themselves to, so this´s it for now. Cheerio, and hope to report next from the States.
-Laurel
I´m not going to explain it all, but the short version thus: there are only about four flights per day from Spain to the US, all in the morning, and US-Air´s is the last one. We were signed up with them, and through various complications, mostly not our fault, we missed theirs. Since they decided it wasn´t their fault we missed it, they wouldn´t help us any more than to put us on standby for tomorrow´s flight, which´s full, but people should drop out of it.
So here we are at a nice Madrid hotel, the only one we know of, and in about eight hours we should have some idea of whether we´re getting home tomorrow.
Trying to get a hold of my dad and brother again (no emergency, just to talk), since they actually managed to call the hotel some hours ago, I´ve temporarily broken my AIM-fast, and am at this moment talking to Kristin because it just feels so darn good. Good thing I didn´t do it specifically for Lent. My dad and brother aren´t even online. It´s not like I couldn´t go without it, but it´s like, okay, there´s no sense in being overly frum about this (now we´re doing Jewish law!), even if it feels religious anyway, because I´m like 29593985394590 miles from home and what a time we´ve had.
But I´ve about used up the half-hour that patrons are requested to limit themselves to, so this´s it for now. Cheerio, and hope to report next from the States.
-Laurel
3.09.2006
De Granada, revisitada
This is exactly what my family is like: we went to Spain and threw a party.
Lily Jo´d been telling us that we had to meet her school friends, and somewhere along the line, my mom or Aunt Cath had the idea to throw a tapas party in our hotel room. So yesterday we went to a supermercado and bought like 43 euros´worth of food (everything was cheap, too; would´ve been so much more in the States). Oh my gosh: two things of bakery bread, seven pastries (actually, those came from a pastry shop we went to earlier), a thing of Brie, half a kilo of queso manchego, a box of crackers, half a kilo of strawberries, two oranges, two bunches of grapes, an eight-pack (apparently it didn´t come in six-packs, but was super-cheap) of Fanta Limón (which is as good as Nicole and AJ always said it was), and four bottles of wine, which we could actually have gotten cheaper than about $5 a bottle American, but we decided to go for the ¨mid-price¨ type stuff, ha. We bought cups, plates, napkins, doilies-for-crying-out-loud (well, they came with that set of plates, but they totally picked the plates on the basis of the doilies). I was like, ¨should we get some toothpicks to put the tapas on?¨, and this is what my mother said: ¨No, that´s going too far.¨ I was like, oh! Doilies, not too far; toothpicks, too far! How could I not have known? ::giggles::
The moms had a blast arranging everything on the tables and nightstands and all that´--it´s a decent-size room, considering there´re four of us in it, ´cause Lily´s staying with us while we´re around (our hotel´s closer to her school than her host house)--and Lil went to the Plaza Nueva to pick everyone up.
Ten people were there, including the four of us, and to my shock, every single scrap of food was eaten and we could have done with more; the moms didn´t get much. And then everyone but Mom and me actually went out again for more wine and more tapas, though it was 11 pm. It was pretty funny.
I drank Fanta and ate lots of bread and crackers and brie and grapes. We taught them sign language eventually; they were all friendly.
Tomorrow I go to class with Lily Jo, actually. Today the moms and I were supposed to go to the Alhambra, but there´s some random security thing going on and we have to come back tomorrow. So instead we went to the Plaza Bib-Rambla, which it turns out we´ve been to before (we find this out after we pay the taxi guy for something we could´ve walked to), and got some churros y chocolate, which, while not everything I´d dreamed, were not bad. Not at all sweet, which sounds different from the ones Mrs. Baier always used to talk about.
Oddest thing about Spain, perhaps: all the American music. They play more of it than Spanish music. Right now the internet cafe is playing ¨Two Princes,¨ of all songs (not that I´m complaining).
And, yes, I just realized that I´m actually using ümlauts for quotation marks.
Okay, gotta go.
Lily Jo´d been telling us that we had to meet her school friends, and somewhere along the line, my mom or Aunt Cath had the idea to throw a tapas party in our hotel room. So yesterday we went to a supermercado and bought like 43 euros´worth of food (everything was cheap, too; would´ve been so much more in the States). Oh my gosh: two things of bakery bread, seven pastries (actually, those came from a pastry shop we went to earlier), a thing of Brie, half a kilo of queso manchego, a box of crackers, half a kilo of strawberries, two oranges, two bunches of grapes, an eight-pack (apparently it didn´t come in six-packs, but was super-cheap) of Fanta Limón (which is as good as Nicole and AJ always said it was), and four bottles of wine, which we could actually have gotten cheaper than about $5 a bottle American, but we decided to go for the ¨mid-price¨ type stuff, ha. We bought cups, plates, napkins, doilies-for-crying-out-loud (well, they came with that set of plates, but they totally picked the plates on the basis of the doilies). I was like, ¨should we get some toothpicks to put the tapas on?¨, and this is what my mother said: ¨No, that´s going too far.¨ I was like, oh! Doilies, not too far; toothpicks, too far! How could I not have known? ::giggles::
The moms had a blast arranging everything on the tables and nightstands and all that´--it´s a decent-size room, considering there´re four of us in it, ´cause Lily´s staying with us while we´re around (our hotel´s closer to her school than her host house)--and Lil went to the Plaza Nueva to pick everyone up.
Ten people were there, including the four of us, and to my shock, every single scrap of food was eaten and we could have done with more; the moms didn´t get much. And then everyone but Mom and me actually went out again for more wine and more tapas, though it was 11 pm. It was pretty funny.
I drank Fanta and ate lots of bread and crackers and brie and grapes. We taught them sign language eventually; they were all friendly.
Tomorrow I go to class with Lily Jo, actually. Today the moms and I were supposed to go to the Alhambra, but there´s some random security thing going on and we have to come back tomorrow. So instead we went to the Plaza Bib-Rambla, which it turns out we´ve been to before (we find this out after we pay the taxi guy for something we could´ve walked to), and got some churros y chocolate, which, while not everything I´d dreamed, were not bad. Not at all sweet, which sounds different from the ones Mrs. Baier always used to talk about.
Oddest thing about Spain, perhaps: all the American music. They play more of it than Spanish music. Right now the internet cafe is playing ¨Two Princes,¨ of all songs (not that I´m complaining).
And, yes, I just realized that I´m actually using ümlauts for quotation marks.
Okay, gotta go.
3.07.2006
De Granada
I´m here and I´m alive, but without much internet time at this moment, so maybe a bit more later.
-Laurel
-Laurel
3.02.2006
Day 2 off of AIM and going strong...
...wait'll I get to Day 15 or so, ha.
Anyway, the purpose of this post: I forgot, like a dork, to write down who wanted a postcard while I'm in Spain. Granted that 'Nanda and Aneya do; I remember them. Emily, but she doesn't read this.
Anyone else, you have 'til early Saturday afternoon to make your desire known (or reknown; sorry), 'cause our plane takes off early Saturday evening. E-mail, comment here, whatever.
-Laurel
Anyway, the purpose of this post: I forgot, like a dork, to write down who wanted a postcard while I'm in Spain. Granted that 'Nanda and Aneya do; I remember them. Emily, but she doesn't read this.
Anyone else, you have 'til early Saturday afternoon to make your desire known (or reknown; sorry), 'cause our plane takes off early Saturday evening. E-mail, comment here, whatever.
-Laurel