schoooool's out for the summer.

The school year's almost over!! Hurrrrrahhh!!! Really, I'll miss the children, and...sorry, I can't continue in this vein, too much suppressed laughter. It's just ridiculous. Will I miss the children? Eh, I'll probably miss the cute ones, but I don't think I'm allowed to say that, being politically correct and all. Will I miss having to repeat myself over and over and over again, until about half the class understands half of what I'm saying? Will I miss the occasional projectile vomitting? Will I miss the temper tantrums? Will I miss forcing children to eat vegetables, one spoonful at a time? If you answered no to any of those questions, congratulations, we can hang out sometime and not do those things. I mean, I'll miss the little children telling me that I'm beautiful. Working in a preschool is the place to be for a self-esteem boost, I'll tell you that much. The affectionate ones, when they don't have milk or snot all over their face, can make you day. And sometimes it's really nice when you hear them speak in English, and you realize that you taught them something. Even if it's just the word "tomato." Give yourself a pat on the back. Is it worth all the vomitting and the weird smells and the pulling out of your own hair? Ehhh...the jury's still out on that one.

all about my mother

There's a moment in every girl's life when she realizes that she is becoming her mother. My moment came this weekend. Standing in the supermarket, holding a pound of butter in my hands, I thought, Hmmm...but is this enough butter? Granted, I was making cupcakes and brownies, but still, what 22 year old girl is buying a pound of butter and wondering if it's not enough? I'm only one girl! I can't even finish a liter of milk in a week (That's right...a LITER. Or dare I say, a litre...dramatic gasp). As soon as the thought past through my head, I started to laugh. Mostly because I thought of my mom around Christmas and how our household singlehandedly sustains the dairy industry. I remember my mom asking me to pick up half a pound of butter at the supermarket, because she was sure that we didn't have enough in the fridge. When I got home, there was nowhere to put the butter I had bought because our fridge was full of...BUTTER! This is not an exagerration. This is a true story, one you should be cautious about trying at home, especially if you have to wear a bathing suit in the near future, or ever. Did any of the butter go bad? Of course not. There were cookies, cakes, bread... Anything and everything that can be made with butter was made, no calories were spared. Shockingly, none of us are grossly obese. One can dream, I suppose. But back to my moment. Not only am I stockpiling butter like my mom, but I'm also making her recipes. And they are deliciousss. Confirmed by my roommate's workplace. And my workplace. And my French class. And my other roommate. And the empty tupperware containers with chocolate cake crumbs...Burp.

stuff breaks

Although I've been living on my own since I was eighteen, I've never really had to fix anything. There was always the NYU Fixer-Upper crew. When you had a problem, you registered it with them, and that was that. Well. The good life is over, and now I've got to fix stuff on my own. So far, things have stayed broken. But that's going to change! (I use the exclamation mark to energize myself). First, there was the broken outlet. Somehow, in my sleep, I ripped my outlet out of the wall. I mean, it is right next to my bed. I don't remember how I did it. All I know is, I woke up and there were wires...things were a bit disatrous, but no one was electrocuted. It still worked though...needless to say, I used it. And that outlet pretty much stayed out of the wall. I considered the duct tape option, but then I just learned to live with the status quo. Until Lidia's friend Carol visited. Lidia mentioned that I was in danger of frying the wiring of the entire building, and Carol got right to work. Qualification: Good at putting IKEA furniture together. With some scissors and a knife, my outlet was back in its rightful place. A real McGyver. But now, within a week of paradise of everything working, I totally broke my blinds. They aren't the normal American kind. They go up into the wall, and there's a cord that goes in there too. For all I know, there are little gnomes in there pulling and pushing my blinds up and down. However, if that is the case, the little guys have gone on strike. My behavior had nothing to do with it. I was always nice to them. But who did what to whom is irrelevant. The point is that I can't sleep past sunrise. I'm tired, I'm cranky, and I am committed to fixing these blinds. How am I going to fix them? Two solutions: 1) Actually attempting to unscrew things. When that ends in me breaking my thumb...2) Baking. Baking is always a solution. Why? "Can you help me fix my blinds? I just don't know what to do..." (smile, hand on waist) "Brownies?" Yay feminism!