I don't know how much time I have exactly, and I don't want to start and get halfway through last Thursday, so bear with me as I cycle backwards through the last few days. If you like, you can imagine me walking, talking and cooking backwards. I hope the effect is amusing and not merely disorienting.
Half an hour ago I registered for my spring classes. This morning, I turned in a two-page paper for Spanish about what I want to be when I grow up. I didn't feel like getting terribly insecure and indecisive about it, so I just said I want to be a farmer. A simple idea, but it still took me from 11-2, and then editing from 8-9, to express ... if I'd been more awake when I'd done it, I probably wouldn't have kept passing out with my face on my keyboard.
Last night, I cleaned the kitchen for a couple of hours -- the theme was Lullaby Sleepytime Commando, and midway through the first hour, Erica's cinnamon sweet-bread came out and was incredibly delicious. We put Pandora on a lullaby station and tried not to fall asleep while eating warm bread, drinking tea, and incidentally scouring the kitchen from top to bottom. Mmm ...
Before that, I'd meant to leave ECO right away, but stayed to wash dishes instead. Earlier, Krissy and I had cooked: chunky potato soup and, for dessert, sweet potato casserole topped with marshmallows. We also served salad and challah bread, both stolen from Stevie. (I figure if I only eat there about a third of the times I'm allowed to, I can take three times the food.) The soup was excellent -- it's a good thing Krissy knows how to cook! -- but the casserole is a favorite every time.
Sunday afternoon was the time I set aside for doing my Spanish redaccion, but it's a good thing I looked in my planner, because I had another (paragraph-long) assignment for my seminar due Sunday night. So I finished that instead. I had just seen off Dad, with whom I spent a lovely weekend. I think I have a bit of time so I'll tell that to you forwards.
Friday night was not busy, exactly -- Brenna and I went to a lecture by a Nobel-prize winning economist, but I was so sleepy that I had to ask Brenna afterwards how the lecture had been. We met Sam on the way back to Keep, then gathered up Whit and Peter, and got to the Observatory just a few minutes too late to go to the public viewing. It's a good thing I had winterproofed myself,* because we went to Arb instead, and lay down in the silence between the creek and the trees and looked at the sky.
Our collective reverie was interrupted by another, apparently less-sober group of students crashing about in the brush, so we amused ourselves by shouting about the body. As in, "Dig harder, it's only three feet deep!" and "But I don't want to keep digging, I'm coooooold. Let's just cover the body with rocks and go home."
... Anyway.
We went back to Keep and watched Fargo, which was horrible, and went to bed.
The next morning I awoke earlier than I thought I would, so, logically, immediately went back to sleep and slept later than I had meant to. I called Dad as soon as I was up and found he was on his way. More about his visit in the next entry!
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* winterproof: to swaddle oneself in the contents of one's Winter Box,** including (but not limited to) puffy coat, gigantic gloves, two layers of pants, snow-boots, and scarf.
** Winter Box: a box containing materials necessary for winterproofing, sent from Connecticut just in time for the beginning of the winter chills.
Okay, so as I commented on your Saturday blog, you mention Daddy's visit but then don't get back to it. I've heard his version--do you have a version? That sounds funny. Also, did the less sober group seem to be alarmed at all by a sober group of kids burying a body? Or is that an Oberlin thing too--respecting differences, including people who like to bury others under rocks and dirt. ? cool.
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