Thursday, November 29, 2007

juxtaposition

I remember when I learned what that word meant. Sophomore year, English class. Our teacher Ms. Butler (who once burned her arm very badly because she tried to iron her shirt while it was on her) asked if anyone knew what it meant. One girl thought she did, and raised her hand. I honestly don't remember her answer (she's the same girl who, when reading a headline about JFK Jr asked 'Who's JFK Jr?' and when her mother answered 'The president's son' she replied with 'I didn't know Bill Clinton had a son!', and she was serious) but it was not right. Not close. So Ms. Butler asked where she got that misinformation from. She replied, "It's in the J catalog" - if you even have to ask what the J catalog is, then perhaps the whole point of this story is lost on you. But, suffice it to say, I really only remember the meaning of this word because some uninformed small private all-girls school girl got her vocabulary from the J catalog.
jux·ta·po·si·tion (jkst-p-zshn)n.
the act of placing or positioning items in the image area side by side or next to one another to illustrate some comparison.
And some days, there are perfect real world examples of this. Like today. When I drove 5 miles out of my way to get some groceries at one store that is significantly cheaper than the one at my corner, I stood and debated over a $1.93 spool of ribbon, and whether I should wait until the 50 cent yogurt goes back on sale for 45 cents, I came home to a letter from Continental Airlines, that I had enough miles to enjoy their elite services on my next flight. So I can take my 45 cent yogurts (because I decided to wait) and I can sit in the swanky Continental airlines suite. Ah, to be a 27-year-old grad student!

T-giving

it's a week since then, and all the leftovers are gone. That's a lie. I've got pumpkin bread and zucchini bread in the freezer, and I've got cranberry sauce and apple sauce still. But, that's it.

All I have the energy to write about it is:
It was good, and yummy, and over!

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

turkey update

8:50am still not shrimp, beginning to thaw!

7:15pm still not shrimp, thawing nicely!

Thursday 9:00am still not shrimp, and squishy and thawed...YAY!

Monday, November 19, 2007

seen. (wanted).

a thanksgiving nightmare

It's the week I've been waiting for - this year I'm cooking Thanksgiving dinner (for somewhere between 5 and 7 people). And while this poses a few logistical problems (I've only got place settings for 4, my table only seats 2, and I'm not sure there is enough counter space to even spread out all the food) I couldn't be more excited. In fact, I've already baked the pumpkin bread and the zucchini bread - they are in the freezer now. I bought the turkey a week ago, and I had a practice run roasting a chicken. So, we're set to go.

Until my nightmare on Saturday night.
It just so happened that I acquired two turkeys. The one I bought and the one my advisor had given to me. They were both in my freezer, and on defrosting day I decided to pull one out and save one for later. On Thanksgiving, with dinner set at 2pm, I was a little stressed and running late, preparing to put the bird in the oven at 1:30pm. I was a thoughtful hostess and sent out a widespread text message to my guests, 'Running a little late over here...' I tore the packaging off of the bird, only to find that the turkey was not actually a turkey. It was, in fact, a bunch of shrimp constructed to look like a turkey. I freaked out. I couldn't serve a shrimp-turkey. So I quickly pulled out the "spare" turkey to check it out. It did not appear to be a shrimp-turkey, so I grabbed the phone and quickly called the Turkey Hotline.

'Turkey Hotline, what is your emergency?'
'HELP! I need to defrost and cook a 12 pound turkey in under 30 minutes!'
'Ok ma'am, calm down. We're sending help immediately.'

Help never came, Thanksgiving was ruined, and I was running around doing that weird dream crying thing where there were no actual tears falling...

And then I woke up. Panicked. I was fully aware it was Sunday, and I was fully aware of what Sunday meant:
This is the note that has been hanging on my fridge basically since I bought the turkey. I had to write it down, because I was stuck in this perpetual loop. Every three hours or so I would recalculating when to thaw the turkey, scared that I would forget. I needed a break from that, hence - the note. I jumped out of bed at 6am, and ran to the freezer. I looked all over the packaging, and I didn't see any indication that it was a shrimp-turkey and not a real turkey, none. So I transferred it to the fridge to begin the thaw.

Turkey update: As of today, Monday morning. It still seems very, VERY frozen. Not 1/3 less frozen than it was. Not 4lbs less frozen than it was. Maybe it's not a shrimp-turkey, but maybe it's a super-unthawable-turkey.

Fridge update:

Monday, November 12, 2007

my life as a grad student.

I had an exam on Thursday. I'd love to be one of those people who can say "oh, I didn't have to study..." But, I'm not. I did have to study. And it was tough. I procrastinated in every way possible. Until, it came right down to the 11th hour and I could procrastinate no more. And then, then I studied. I paced around my apartment reading notes, and text books, and powerpoint slides, and note cards. I studied, and thought, and reasoned, and understood (ish). And slept (not much). The exam came and went, and it was pretty much as expected. And then I sat around at school from 11am (when the test ended) until 3pm (when I had a class). What I really wanted to do was go home. I needed sleep. I needed to decompress. But, I'm a nerd at heart, and I could not miss class. So I stuck around.

It's been pretty quiet lately, all classes have been canceled because of a conference that's pretty important and most people have been attending. Thursday was our first day back to this one class. I headed over to class at 3pm. There were only two people in the room (a computer lab) so I said "We have class right?" They said yes! So I sat at my computer and waited. waited.

I signed online to chat with some friends. But I was concerned, no one else was there. I waited. One other girl walked in. She sat, and looked all around. She looked at the clock a few times. Then she pulled out her text book and put on her iPod. My "chatting" turned into "ranting", and the 10-minute-rule came and went. After sufficiently complaining to 3 friends online, and my mother via email, I decided that 15 minutes was long enough to wait. At 3:15, when there was still no sign of a professor, TA, or other classmates, I quietly picked up my books and left.

I made it 4 steps out of the room before I remembered that class starts at 3:30pm, and has all semester.

After class, I hopped on the bus immediately. I was going straight home - the couch and a beer were waiting. I got off the bus stop, and my 1/2 mile walk brings me right passed the grocery store. I needed aluminum foil and dish soap, so I went in to get it. I found the aluminum foil and dish soap. I also saw a roasting pan that I need for Thanksgiving, as well as this covered glass pyrex dish I needed. Then I remembered I was out of conditioner. Also, toilet paper - I grabbed the pack of 12. I also grabbed paper towels (8 rolls) and some hand soap. I mean, I needed them all. So I push my cart up to the check-out, and as I unload things I remember to say the thing I reminded myself of when I walked in the store:

"I don't need a bag"

Crap, I don't need a bag because I'll just throw this aluminum foil and dish soap in my school bag and continue my walk home. I think this through slowly as I stare at three pans, two large things of paper products, four different kinds of soap, and aluminum foil on the belt. I never really finished my sentence, it came out more like:

"I don't need.....uhhh....well....hm."
pause
"Actually, I can't buy all of this stuff!"
blank stare
"I forgot that I walked here"
still blank
"So, ya, sorry. Just the aluminum foil and the dish soap. I can't carry the rest!"
"OH! And I don't need a bag, thank you!"

I mean, the woman laughed and pretended to understand. But I was familiar with the awkwardness to hide the nervous 'This lady is so crazy I'm actually scared for her well-being' sentiment that I am sure was going through her head.

I appreciate the concern, it was touch and go. But, the couch and the beer did the job!

Friday, November 09, 2007

definition of lazy

I could have turned around to grab a coaster off of the coffee table for my cold bottle of Carlsberg beer...I craftily pulled out an extra index card instead.

(see also, definition of ghetto)