Monthly Archives: October 2008


Fall smells abound.

I baked 2 apple pies with the help of my dear friend and teacher tonight.  SO good.  And easy as pie?  Yep.  Pretty much says it all.  You start with ugggggly apples, peel them till they’re not ugly, slice them up a bit, stir in the proper ingredients and throw it in a pie crust to bake.  The pie crust consistency is a little tricky (but I had a pro teaching me), but it’s simple to roll out and such…one of many tricks I learned tonight is that you should roll out pie crusts on a flour sack dishtowel.  yep.  Think of the advantages such a flexible and non-sticky material might have on getting a crust into a pie plate/tin.  Genius.  Using the rolling pin in this endeavour is also beneficial.

A roommate of mine is baking seven layer bars.  MMMM.  So good.

And K just did laundry so our room smells like her fabric softener.  YES.

Tonight is a good night to be a nose.

and i’m going to bed.


This isnt Dead Red, but a spitting image

This isn't Dead Red, but a spitting image

I decided not to move my car last night (we have to switch sides of the street every other day) because I have practicum on Tuesdays and I usually leave before 8, the magical hour of illegal parking.

I got ready for today, even running a little late because I forgot to make a sandwich for my lunch.  I was surprisingly awake and with it–even managing to remember to pack a DVD a professor lent me for a class.  When I opened up my car and unlocked the doors so I could put my bag in the back, the locks hummed funny.  They didn’t do their normal, percussive “kachunk” sound.  Weird, I thought.  Uh oh.  I shut the door and climbed in, hoping that my car would start up despite the funny sound.

Not so much.

The most pathetic of noises came from my car when I turned the key in the ignition.  If my car could weep, I’m sure that’s the sound it would make.  Gut-wrenchingly pathetic.  It’s just a car, right?

I called K in panic.  MY CAR WON’T START! I blurted out, even repeating myself when the rush of words were unintelligible enough that she said ‘wha?’  I think the battery is dead.  The locks…they…the dome lights…what am I going to do?

“Take my car.”  She gave me permission to drive the car we had brought up here to school a few weeks ago–and what a blessing that we did if we were to end up with an out of comission car off campus.  I did.  I got in the car and started it up. “Oh no, we have to move the car before 8, Patty.”  Dread washed over me.  I could still get to practicum ontime, but not without the ticket I would’ve avoided by merely driving my car to school.  I turned around, called my practicum teacher to apologize for my absence, and started working to resolve the issue.

We tried calling Dad.  His phone’s off while he’s at a conference.  We looked for jumper cables.  They are undoubtedly in the new cars back home.  Not here.  K put a call for them on her facebook profile.

Then we called our uncle.  He said he’d be over (it’s a perfect day and I have nothing to do today) soon and that I should call the police and report my illegally parked car.  He called again when he was 10 minutes away and I went outside to meet him with k’s key for dead red (my car’s affectionately-dubbed name when it died on a snowy night our junior year).  In those ten minutes he didn’t come–he hasn’t driven through town on a weekday in a while, and he estimated the 10 minute drive to church on Sunday would be similar…but that’s okay!  The parking guy didn’t come in 10 minutes either.  He did come in 15 minutes though.  I saw him driving down the street blocks away.  This is it, I said out loud.  To no one.  I moved from standing on one end of the car (in a pile of leaves the neighbor who lives there raked on sunday–and conveniently dumped alongside my car.  what’s that about?) to a clearer spot by the hood.  When the city truck drove by, the driver pointed to my car as if to say, “is this yours?” to which I nodded “yes.”  And then he drove on down the street to give someone else a ticket. I deserved a ticket.  That was grace.

My uncle and grandma came shortly after and jump started the car.  It was really, really dead.  The headlights were no longer turning on, the dome lights were a faint glow.  After he started grandma’s car, it took him about 2.5 times to get dead red to start.  But it started.  He drove it to his house to work on, where I can pick it up tonight (and I need to remember to bring a check for a battery…I wonder if he can make good on the diehard warranty w/o a receipt?).

Here is how God has blessed me in this ordinary life disruption:

1.  I had something I could cancel to fix the problem (practicum).  Not ideal, but flexible.  No midterms :).

2. K was here to give me her key.

3.  My uncle and grandma live in town and were able to help me.

4.  The weather is perfect today.

5.  I can use the time to catch up on some work that’s stacking up.

6.  The ticket guy.  THANK YOU whoever you are!

7.  I don’t have any hard and fast plans for tonight (all my plans for this week’s evenings have been slightly reduced/changed)…and the slight plans I have are very, very close to my grandma and uncle’s house, so I might be able to do both.

8.  I didn’t cry.  I didn’t stress excessively–I had peace and a lot of help.

So I’m thankful.  And I’m going to use the time like I said I would :).


look to the horizon, or you’ll puke.

Today in church our pastor (in discussing 1Thessalonians) was talking about the hope we have as Christians.  The comparison between secular hope and Godly hope.  He used a good illustration.

Hope in secular things–material things, relationships, careers, health, the stock market, etc.–goes up and down like waves in the ocean.  If you’re on a ship and the storms of life cause those waves to get kinda drastic, looking down at them, focusing on what’s immediately around you…it makes you sick.  You throw up.

Hope that we have in Christ is like looking at the horizon.  Knowing that greater days are yet to come (and that’s when we die and our souls meet up with Jesus for the sweetest communion there ever was), and not faltering or wavering in the hope of the promise he has made us, we have a steadier outlook…not puking.

It was more eloquent the way he said it.  I just didn’t want to forget it altogether, because the idea can be applied to even less weighty things (not unlike don’t sweat the small stuff).  In the scheme of a semester in college, a couple weeks are really, really “bad”.  Lots of work, lots of pressure, lots of awake hours.  Having a poor performance in one assignment is perhaps permissable, but if it happens more than once, I get worried–worried sick.  Rather I could take it as a bigger semester-long perspective…some rough spots in the middle, but a lot of learning all the way around.

I’m not eloquent.

K and I were treated to lunch today.  That was a blessing and a surprise.  And I find that I am quite, quite without manners.  What does one say?  Even thank you sounded inadequate.  And then my thinking shifts to the gift my creator has given me.  He didn’t pay for my plate of linguine alla marinara–he paid for my life.  He paid for my sins and my shortcomings.  He has accepted me lovingly, freely, and warmly.  He has knocked on the door of my heart and waited for me.  What thanks could I convey?  This makes me realize that living the “good” life of the Christian (adhering to Old Testament statutes or otherwise) comes from a response to grace.  How can I live that good life without feeling like I’m earning my salvation or proving my allegience?  It’s a habit, you see.  So I must commit myself and my actions to the Lord without expecting notice or human approval.  My soul should delight in living for his Glory and that alone.

And so my challenge for the week…the rest of my life.

peace, catz.

the up and up

So I just got out of a test that I didn’t really study very well for…stupid preposition placement there.  I feel like it went okay, but I’ll probably get nailed because it was essay format…and writing (by hand) in logical sentences under a time limit is a straining accomplishment for me.  Ach, well.  On the bright side, I got three rubrics back from my HR TA (the one who is really tough), and I did remarkably well, especially compared to my previous grades.  For instance, the co-lead discussion I did a few weeks ago (and felt that I bombed particularly) was fantastic.  She took off one point.  No sweat, amiga!  The one from Monday (which went very well, I might add) also lost just one point.  And she really liked some of my online discussion posts.

Hot time in the ol’ time tonight, huh.

Yesterday I was down in the dumps big time.  My clarinet professor has been a bit elusive (for understandable reasons, I suppose, but aggravating nonetheless), so finally getting a coaching with her and the pianist who’s collaborating with me this morning was very, very sweet.  We actually got a lot done, which doesn’t often happen in said coachings.  I imagine when we get to the Brahms it’ll go back to crazy, but for now, we’re good.

And my recital date is probably going to be pushed back by another week.  My pianist has entered a national competition, and if she advances, the finals are Dec. 6, so we’ll go a little later.  I’m relieved, to be honest.  Practicing during t-giving break is always strenuous (because I’d much rather chill, so any practicing I do is rather labored), so i’m happy that I’ll at least have the additional week to recover the time away from my pianist and professor.

On Monday I made a reference to Billy Madison (yes, the Adam Sandler film) in the aforementioned co-lead, and it scored me some approval points.  She said on the rubric “relevant” in regards to it.  So, lesson learned:  pop culture consumed years ago may prove to be worth something…eventually :).

I’m out.  It’s gorgeous outside today (funny how the weather is a metaphor for my mood in the last two days…).  peace.


I have a lot to do.  I take every opportunity to lay it on thick and let people know how much I have to do.  It doesn’t sound like very much fun getting to know me in that respect.  What a downer…here’s a girl who actually made time to talk to me, but she’d rather be catching up in her behind-ness.

whoa.  Recharge was awesome this weekend.  It was as though I had never left, and it was such a refresher.  I admit I was a teensy bit wiped on Saturday, but it wasn’t anything a pop (bought with a check because my cash was in the car…far, far away from the camp store) couldn’t fix.  That’s good!  I had Junior High girls, and I loved it.  I am afraid the email list isn’t going to make it to me…I should’ve written down some email addresses.  The girls have no way of writing to me, though I promised to write back to them.  It’s something little I can do as their college friend.  Even a couple lines is better than nothing.

In band I am part of a chamber group that is playing Gordon Jacob’s Old Wine in New Bottles.  It’s a cute little piece.  And the best part–it’s not so quirky that I’m nervous about getting my part right.  I’ll never forget my first experience playing in a chamber ensemble…I wasn’t even principal but the part was atrocious.  And last year I was principal, but it wasn’t that fantastic of a piece.  Perhaps it was, but honestly I don’t remember.  The conductors who work with us (students) are typically not clarinetists, so they often just tell us to play quieter.  And it’s really funny.  According to these folks, all registers of the clarinet project well.  They’ll say while rehearsing:  “I know this is a bad register for you that really projects well, but I need less clarinet.”  Usually it’s referring to the throat tones…which don’t project.  Playing them quieter only makes their intonation more problematic.  And p.s.:  the clarinets only sound as loud as they do because you’re right in front of them.  Stand back and the blend will improve a lot.  It’s not as though we are actually playing forte ever…alas.

I put chili powder in my hot chocolate and it was amazing.  A little warmer, if that makes sense.  Not spicy though…I mean, it was a spice, but not burn your mouth hot.  But it was hot because the water was hot.  Ha.  Try it a little at a time.  It’s good.  It was an idea from Chocolat.  And a good one.

I’m going to brush the pearly whites and go to bed.  Long day in practicum tomorrow (hooray!).  peace.

honest, clueless citizen

I was walking to class today, looking at the ground (which I have come into the habit of doing lately) when I spied a manly wallet open on the ground.  Dang, I thought.  I found a wallet.  I can’t leave it here because someone else might not do the right thing.  I don’t like to take it because the person might know the folks at the house he dropped it in front of…or someone could have stolen it and dropped it there…and I was off to practice anyway…running late.  The long and short of it is that I picked it up with my gloved hand (nice how that works out on a cold morning) and turned the corner, heading towards city hall.  As I walked I couldn’t help but think:  wow.  I thought of it in terms of a crime or a Bones episode.  What if they thought I was supsicious or had taken something from the wallet?  I didn’t.  I did peek inside to see who it belonged to.  A guy who lives in the dorms…pretty sure he’ll miss it.  So hopefully the police (who were not so eager to help) will track him down and return his stuffed, falling apart wallet.

Cool.  I’m headed back to camp for a weekend, and it’s going to be sweet like sugar.


you know what?

I watched a bit of the DVD that came with k’s shane & shane CD from the concert we went to the other night…and I learned some things about the geetar.  I hope to be applying these things and some otra leccions to my own playing.

And I was a teacher today.  You want an ego booster?  Stand in front of a classroom of adoring elementary students.  Stinkers…yeah…well.  They are surprisingly no match to the elation I felt by being loved, even just a tiny bit, by my new students.  And another surprise:  I wasn’t all that tired, though I was with them for five hours.  Wanna know my secret?  CAMP.  Day camp, more specifically.  The 9-2 action of day camp more than prepared me for this experience.  Hotcha.

Disclaimer:  when I say I was in front of them for five hours, I was participating with them more than teaching them.  I give all credit to my cooperating teacher for her devotion and planning.

And can I just add one more thing?  Jumproping is coming back, baby.  Oh. yeah.  I was never the queen, but I spent a lot of time doing it, and it was in one of the lesson plans today.  HOT.