and tell me you wouldn’t be uber excited about this Thursday’s chapel speaker.
Cullinary escapades, or how not to bake a cake September 24, 2008
Skipping both my classes this afternoon left me with plenty of time to get bored. Often this is not a good thing. Often this is quite a messy thing. Often this leaves me with a smoky kitchen to air out quickly before the roommates get home.
First I listened to some podcasts and daydreamed about moving to Mozambique. Then I worked on a collage/painting I’ve been trying to finish for a while (six months). I was pretty proud of myself for coming up with a technique of dipping paper into melted wax so it became see-through and then gluing it to the canvas. This left quite a bit of wax on the counter, stovetop, and on my roommate’s cheese grater. No worries, mate, I thought to myself in an Australian accent, as I often do when I’m trying to keep it cool and not panic.
Then I got bored again, so I dug through the cupboard and found a box of Angel food cake mix. I love to bake and I like to surprise people, so this seemed the perfect opportunity to wow my roomies with my mad kitchen skills.
I dumped the mix and water in a mixing bowl and remembered that we do not own a mixer. G’day. No worries, mate, no worries. Just throw some shrimp on the barbie. So I mixed it by hand and it began to foam up beautifully. Then I remembered something crucial that my high school home-ec teacher Mrs. Northcutt told our Food and Nutrition class when we were on the cake chapter: Angel food cakes are totally different from any other cakes. They require patience, a low altitude, and a bundt pan.
Shoot, I thought as I realized that I do not have items 1 and 3. The accent kicked in again. Good onya, mate. Looks like you’re up a gum tree now. It’s gonna take a lot of yakka to clear up this mess. I silenced the inner Aussie and improvised by using two shallow cake pans with small glass bowls of water in the middle of each. All went well for the first ten minutes the cakes were in the oven. Then the sizzling and smoking began. Nothing dashes one’s hopes as quickly as the sight of gloppy gooey cake batter spilling overflowing onto the floor of the oven. I’ll spare you the rest of the details. I’m going for a Kip now. Hoo-roo.
A word of advice September 15, 2008
If you’re ever walking home from your Writing Articles for the Media class and you happen to pass by a man wearing a nun’s habit, a green mask, and only one sock, don’t be alarmed. I wasn’t. Just smile and wave.
Tuwawi, umilik! Illerasukpok otok ernesukpok! September 5, 2008
Or as we say in English, “Quick, bearded one! Bashful basking seal is about to give birth!”
Now, practice this phrase so you’ll be prepared for your pop quiz in Canadian Inuit.
This month marks Millie’s and my four-year anniversary. I remember well that day my junior year when we brought her home from the used car lot. Her licorice-red exterior, the black bedliner, the cute little cab perfect for two (or one with an overflowing laundry hamper) all seemed to whisper, “Come here, Anna! Let’s be friends! Think of all the adventures we’ll go on, the garbage we’ll haul, the furniture we’ll move! Who needs air-conditioning when you’ve got the back windows all the way open! We can even sing along to your “Celtic Wonder” cassette tape at some very high decibels! I won’t tell!”
How could I resist? Especially in light of the fact that for the first month of 11th grade I drove a $300 silverish-blue 1987 Crysler New Yorker named Hal who leaked oil and was constantly (and quite monotonely) telling me, “Please fasten your seatbelt. Thank you. Please add gasoline. Oil level is low.” (He also had difficulty going in reverse. Or going anywhere if it meant travelling at over 45 mph. Poor fellow, I almost killed him the first and only time I took him on the interstate).
Yes, Millie and I are just two free souls on this road called Life. One of us needs some more washer fluid.
Who’da thunk… September 4, 2008
That my two favorite classes thus far would be my 7:45 a.m. grammar class and Earth and Space science? Soitenly not me.
Dear estranged readers… September 1, 2008
Let’s be friends again. These nasty things called “classes” and “work” and “lack of internet” and “lack of neighbors to steal internet from” have kept us apart for too long. Never again.
Excuse me while I dash off to Non-fiction Writing and then a 2 hour science lab. It’s sure to be quite scintillating.