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January 18, 2014

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I promise I was home at a reasonable hour.

(My roommates all just go to bed at unreasonably early hours.)

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Study Time

This blog post is brought to you by the letter "P" (Procrastinating, Papers, People, and Posts) and the number 10, (10-page-paper, 10 hours to complete it in, 10 other things to do besides my paper, including cleaning checks). Last time I had a health test to study for I followed my normal routine for this class. I went to my friend's (aka: Study Boy) apartment. It's a mutually beneficial friendship. I save him a seat in class, he takes pictures of the slideshows. We pull out the study guide and he sits on one couch and looks at his slideshow pictures from class and I sit on the other couch and use the book to find the answers. (Why yes, I do find more answers). His buddies (aka: the peanut gallery) came over after we had gotten through most of the reproductive systems part. But the topic of Pregnancy came up, and I learned that my best "childbearing years" are dwindling quickly! I panicked! "Somebody better come and put a ring on it!"

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Sometimes I like to make cookies as a part of regular life. Not because we're quarantining, but because it's normal. And this COVID-19 quarantine, I assure you, really doesn't make much of an impact in my life. But today. I tried making cookies with Charlotte today. I really did. I asked if she would like to, she understood, we got ourselves set up, put our matching aprons on, and melted the butter. (because we were doing the Alton Brown recipe.) Then I discovered that we were out of brown sugar. But she was already measuring out 1/4 Cup of salt... So I found a small chocolate chip cookie packet that we had gotten as a gift at Christmas. It required butter and water. So we made it. And she was all about eating the dough. And we added chocolate chips. And ate some of those too. And it looked really soft. So I added flour. And we baked them. And they turned out Flat. And awful looking. Like they had twice as much butter as the bag called fo

wishful thinking

sometimes I wish I was creative. I have creative spurts every once in a while. I usually don't know what to do with them. Then they usually just go to my stomach after I've turned them into brownies. Which isn't so good for my metabolism, I'm sure. . . Anyway, tonight in particular, I was wishing I could be creative with words and evoking emotion through poetry and song lyrics. The reason was because I needed to get some creative energy flowing and the only way I had to do that was by writing the lyrics to any and every song that came into my head. This process was interrupted by the customers coming through my checkstand, and my various conversations with ScottE., the closest checker. But man alive! So many people make a living being creative and writing music and songs and words. Telling their stories that people understand- I listen to the music because I like it because its like the person who is singing understands me. They have been through it all before. They te

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