Stayin' Alive...

(Doo, doo, doo! Ok. The Bees Gees?? Who thought of that? Hm.)
Hello Blog,

It's been a while, hasn't it?

I kept promising to come back and document all the adventures I've had at college thus far.
I had planned to write about Torrientation, and about locking myself out of my room on my first night.
I thought about introducing you to my dear bike, Shrimpy Prawn, and comparing my very first twelve-mile ride with Dante's journey into Hell. (It's getting better, I promise you. I think I'm climbing Mount Purgatory right now....)
I was going to show you pictures of my room, my bicycle, the trees on campus, and so forth, and tell you all about the strange things served in the Caf.

But I never did.

You know why?

Two Words: Music Performance.
Actually, more like seven words: I'm changing my major to Music Performance.

Am I crazy? Aren't there posts saved somewhere on this blog about how I decided to take a long hiatus from violin? Am I not the girl who hates performing and never practiced for more than an hour a day for the past twelve years? (And even that hour was like pulling teeth.)

Yes. Yes. Yes, and Yes.

I suppose it's natural to ask what changed. And I suppose I would have to reply that I don't entirely know. But I'm most definitely in the process of finding out, and when I do, you'll get to read all about it.

For the meanwhile, please keep me (and all other college kinfolk/chumlets) in your prayers, if you would be so kind. I think we're all reaching the time in the semester where we are undergoing the death, or darkness, that precedes the dawn. Three hours of practice never feels like enough. Rehearsing, writing, revising, reading, re-reading, etc. Nothing feels like "enough", whatever that "enough" is, and I am being confronted with my finiteness. Oh, I am so very human. I am not even immortal like the Greek gods described by Homer. I am mortal. I am an "eater of bread", and I need sustenance and sleep. More importantly, I need to learn how care for my soul as I struggle to become a whole soul.
It is frustrating, and I feel like I am a very dead seed that will never sprout. But maybe the only thing to do right now is to acknowledge all the frustration, discouragement, and fear that I feel. I'm scared about Don Rags, and I'm even more scared about juries. I am weary, and the thought of four or five more years of this makes me feel even wearier.

But I musn't grow gloomy. As the weather grows frigid and the trees lose all their leaves, all of creation hopes for the coming of Spring. I, too, shall hope for Spring. (I certainly hope for the warmth of Spring when I'm saying hullo to the bitterly cold air during my morning rides.) Yet I also must work on enjoying winter, and maybe even enjoying the process of "dying". I don't know whether death in itself is a good thing, but I am realizing how much I need grace, and how very little I am willing to accept grace.

All shall be most well. Four weeks until finals. We shall all take it one day at a time, right?
(How very cliché...Oh. Arg. Frustration again.)

I really do want to introduce you all to Shrimpy Prawn sometime....Maybe over the Thanksgiving Holiday.

I miss you all!

Er, Nevermind

Indecision has rendered me quite Hamlet again. After much waffling (not literally, I'm afraid), I have decided to keep this blog and use it for my embarrassing attempts at writing about subjects besides food and wooly creatures. (I suppose this comes after reading Jane Eyre and wanting so badly to dialogue with someone about it...)

Because I plan to make it a private blog, I was wondering if you good blogger-sphere folk would be kind enough to furnish me with your e-mail address so I can add you to the reading list. If you do not know my e-mail address, just leave a comment and I will send you a private message to obtain the said information.

:)

Thanks!

"'Cause we're moving into a new house...."

Dear Friends,

The time has come to switch blogs.
You can find me (and a variety of other creatures) here!

See you there! :)

-Paulie Blip.

(First person to tell me where the title quote is from ((without looking it up)) wins a cookie! Well, you can win a cookie even if you look it up. Actually, please just come over and eat cookies!)

To My Neighborhood Trader Joe's

Dear Trader Joe's,

Why are you so awesome?
It probably has to do with the fact that you sell me a bag of baby-spinach for $1.99 every week. Or maybe because I can find a quart of milk for a dollar? Or perhaps it's because you now stock both regular-rummy-vanilla and chocolate Canneles de Bordeaux?

(And who can forget the yogurt and hummus selections? There are just enough options to render me quite "Hamlet".)

Your array of chicken broth always makes my heart sing. (Actually, it makes me sing. And then I get stared at. And then I desperately attempt to look like I have just sneezed an incredible song-like sneeze. Yes, it would be very incredible.) Low-Sodium? Check. Organic and Gluten-free? Check, check. The-Regular-Discreetly-Named-WITH-SODIUM--style? Check, check, check!

And then there's your chocolate section......Let's not go there. Too much goodness in one aisle!

Oh and the cheese!
One of your very friendly employees introduced me to Saint André today and I think I have fallen quite madly in love. Who could resist such a wonderful triple-cream? (Actually, I was a bit skeptical when I first tasted it; but then I discovered that it is very similar to Brie, the god of all soft cheeses, and that made it quite all right.) Saint André triple-cream is taller than a Brie and has a very fun consistency: crumbly towards the middle and more spreadably soft nearer to the outer skin. (Perfect for those who enjoy the texture of goat cheese but not the flavor. Though I suppose I should learn to like the flavor of goat cheese...) It is an exceedingly rich cheese (75% milkfat?) that tastes oh-so-buttery and the tiniest bit tangy.
Mmm.
Trader Joe's, thank you for selling Saint Andrés triple-cream.
We enjoyed it with our Hobbity-supper this evening. (Crispy fried potato-bacon-thyme patties, anyone? Oh, and some of that spinach.)

Yes, Trader Joe's, I will admit that I often seek relief from end-of-the-term-stress by perusing your shelves and air-violining to whatever classical piece you have playing. (Great choice in music, by the way. Especially on a Saturday morning.) I probably frighten your Hawaiian-shirt-clad employees even though they are kind enough not to mention it.
Send them all a box of Joe's O's. (And a dollar to buy the accompanying milk.)

I will be seeing you again soon.
Very soon.

With much love,
-Miss P. McGillies

A Lentilian* Revelation

A delightful conversation with sweet Jane one morning at school:

Me: Jane, I love lentils!

Jane: Me too! They provide that wonderful something you always need.

Me: Nutrition?

Jane: No, yumminess!

:-)

I love you, Jane!

*Lentilian probably refers all things of the Lentil-nature...

Merry Christmastide!

From Jo-Jo and Lettie.