Out of Great Misery, A Miracle

One of my favorite things to eat in the whole world is my parents' "Bread Soufflé" (not the most appealing name, but that's immaterial). I prefer to call it a cheddar soufflé, because that describes the flavor, not the part where the whole recipe is cheating. Instead of doing all the work for a soufflé, which, I guess, might not actually rise, you cut up (generally sandwich, preferably staleish) bread into squares, mix it with grated cheddar in a baking dish, then soak the whole thing in a milky-egg mixture and bake. Delicious.

I got home yesterday, from day fifteen of my nineteen-day work-every-day stretch, and the only thing I wanted to eat was this soufflé. But it takes an hour to bake. I was hungry and tired. So I spent an hour on the computer, and I was still hungry, and still tired, and no soufflé.

Then it came to me. A thought I'm sure I've had once or twice before. The miracle.

French-toast grilled cheese. (Sadly, not actually an original idea. I checked afterward.)

And some bacon, because—why not? And apple cider, because 'tis still the season.

How did I accomplish this feat? Egg and milk in a shallow bowl like usual, minus vanilla or cinnamon or anything like that. Soak the bread, not too much. Cook one side of one slice, take it out. Cook one side of the second slice, flip it over. Put the cheese on the cooked side, which is facing up. Place the first piece of bread, cooked side down, on the cheese. Cook, flip, cook, cut, watch the cheddar ooze out, enjoy.

Soufflé is better. The crispy edges and crispy cheese on top. The cheese mixed in with everything else. It might be good to sort of burn some grated cheddar onto the outsides of the sandwich, but then it could get messy. I wasn't feeling that adventuresome.

(How many times can you say 'soufflé' in a blog post without sounding completely ridiculous? For example: soufflé soufflé soufflé soufflé...)

Good News, This Time for Real

You can tell I have internet because I'm streaming 30 Rock from Netflix. What you can't tell from this screenshot is that the little spinning rainbow circle (called by Jared and probably the world the "wheel of death," if I remember correctly) was my cursor at that moment, and I had to restart Firefox. Internet can't fix an old computer. Slash I didn't pay for the fastest internet.

X = the Internet

I guess I jinxed it with my last post. I was too busy drinking "November Cider" and eating crème brûlée at Cafe Zola to install my internet. On Saturday, between IKEA and work and more boyfriend-birthday-events, I tried twice. On Sunday after work, twice more. On Monday evening, I called the help line. First a robot tried to help, then a human, and tonight I get a real human presence.

It's been a month and two days since my internet was supposed to be activated the first time.

I've come to realize I operate in a sort of flow-chart way. I need x settled before I can figure out y, and then hopefully z will follow. I also can't do a or b until x is taken care of. X has been "the internet" for a long time, so being disconnected from the world has stood in the way of a lot of things. Probably not all of them are logical, but oh well, it's how it works. (I'm in a freezing-cold-despite-space-heater plus boredom-induced workplace stupor right now, so I can't even remember most of the goals for which progress has been stalled these several months. Besides "can't write another blog post until my internet is set up.")

It's a really good way to not get anything done.

That's not true! So many gifts purchase/wrapped/delivered/coveted by me to the extent that you might not get yours John (sorry), so much delicious fatty food consumed, so many candles burned.

One of my current projects is being more of a girl. I may be copying Jane Marie's HOW TO BE A GIRL column, or just reading it on those days I bother to open the Hairpin on my office computer, but mainly this is a joke and I follow neither her nor anyone else. I just want better skin and maybe nicer makeup brushes, the latter of which I do learn about from the internet, and other things. Like candles!

My exploration into candles has been successful. Too bad I never have dinner parties or quiet get-togethers with more than two people where I could make use of my now-plentiful candle options.

I was getting into the holiday spirit. Except for those first three summer-stragglers. They're cubes, though, so they could stand in for presents. If I were crazy and had a Christmas-tree candle. (I'm not and I don't.)

Also, did you know that with block candles, you're supposed to cut off the excess wax when the wick sinks down more than some number of centimeters from the top? Who does that?

Good News

Good news indeed. I should be blogging from the comfort of my own home in a matter of days. Does that expression even make sense? A matter of days.

I've been hard at work spending all my money on the people I love. Christmas comes and another year goes by without my paying back any of my student loans, just racking up interest. But the sparkly things I've purchased! The holiday cookies I've already eaten! (Only two. In two days. 'Cause they are "decadently enrobed" in chocolate.)

Things I am going to do once I have internet:

1. Not use it for at least the first three hours it is available, because I will be working when the internet magically turns on a 8 pm on Friday.
2. Read the entire archives of The Hairpin's Ask a Clean Person series. Because I enjoy them.
3. Download the last few months of bank statements.
4. Read all those things I've been putting in a list of things to read when not busy doing other things (i.e. working, being at work, NaBloPoMo-ing or trying to). Nope. Probably never.
5. Write emails to my far-off friends, which is too hard to do when in a public place like work.
6. Then I will watch all the rest of 30 Rock on Netflix, all in one sitting, because I don't have to wait for DVD holds to come in at the library anymore.

It will be a good weekend full of headaches.

Success

Waking up.

Coming home.

I'd forgotten how magical winter light is with snow on the ground and up the sides of the trees.
* * *
With the first significant snowfall yesterday evening, I'm oh so ready for December. So many snow-smiles today.

But November, now: I did it! I didn't publicize it, but I was doing NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). I thought about trying my hand at NaNoWriMo again (Novel Writing), but I knew with every fiber of my being that it would not, could not go well. I barely managed a blog post a day, so forget seven pages of fiction.

I bent the rules early on. A post a day, before a midnight-deadline, was impossible. But thirty posts in thirty days is basically the same, and something I could manage. I backdated the late ones so that it would be obvious I had fulfilled my task—a post for every day, if not posted every day. If I'd had internet in my home, I might have kept the rules stricter, but sometimes there's just not enough energy left for a walk back to campus. With this post, I've hit the thirty-post mark. I've got the momentum back. I think, after all those false starts, I've brought the blog back.

Yay!

Crunching Through December

It's horrible-time in horrible-land.

Okay, fine, sentences with meaning. It's crunch time in university-land. Exams, term papers, other papers. Sometimes you get to turn in five in nine days, and also become a year older and not really celebrate! If you are my boyfriend.

It's crunch time in my land, too, but I am crunching toward December 1st, not crunching toward sometime closer to Christmas. Maybe this crunching thing doesn't work as an extended metaphor. I did finally buy some potato chips yesterday! With the end of November end my blogging obligations. (Blobligations? Bloglibations? Neither!) (That syntax back in the non-parenthetical preceding sentence would totally work in German, instead of sounding almost cool but actually just wrong like it does in English.)

This post is the last thing I have to write tonight before I can trudge home through the sludge to my bed. When November ends, NaBloPoMo ends, and I can write without guilt spurring me on, and spend less time commuting to internet (especially once December 9th rolls around and internet is activated in my home). But my boyfriend is busy. Very, importantly busy. So with my new-found time, I am going to make things. I will cook dinners—everyone has to eat, so he can multitask when he sees me. I will cook things I haven't cooked before, and cook for just me. I will read some new books. And I am trying my hardest to hang out with friends. Movies, dinner, coffee shops, grocery shopping. You offer it, I'll take it. I offer it, you better take it.

Even though yesterday, my brother told me,

"this is death week though
fucking term paper
all the weeks are death weeks"

today, he invited me to eat delicious fried rice he's making on Thursday, and next week to an experimental more-authentic pasta alla carbonara. If I play my cards right, John could fill all my free time, be all my friends, and all my new cooking experiences.

No. He does work sometimes.

* * *

I lied. I have other things to do, deadlines to meet. What's with all these December birthdays? It's hard enough to think of and afford Christmas presents for everyone. In fact, I usually fail.

Saturday's birthday girl lives many states away, so her presents should be in the mail. Since they go by mail, her Christmas and birthday gifts should travel together. My sad busy boyfriend's birthday is Wednesday. I don't know which night, if any, I'm taking off to celebrate.

I have been working on card designs, and silly details to go along with things, and creative packaging materials. I'm not so clear on gifts. Once I make it past the early-December birthdays, there's a translation I want to do for someone, and photos to pick to print, and frames to find, and everything else to figure out. Christmas celebration number one is December 17th. There's not a lot of time!