(no subject)
Home. Tired. Aced my history midterm. Very pleased. Breck can be summed up in these words: artichoke pizza, double black diamonds, bruises the size of plums, boot bags lost in Denver, nervous breakdowns, cheerios in the carpet, the Last Chance parking lot at Arapahoe Basin, the Continental Divide, and mountains. Mountains. God, I love mountains.
I would talk in something other than monosyllables if there was anything to say other than "Wee WoW!" and "Hot damn, I want to cook like I've never cooked before". There is only so much take-out I can take before my fingers start itching and I start thinking dangerous thoughts, like how that kumquat cake really wasn't that difficult (two days and many nervous breakdowns later...) or that Becca will eat something with spinach in it (and when I say she does I actually mean she doesn't).
I think I may have been a housewife in another life. This desire to cook (not even when I'm hungry; nor do I always want to eat what I cook!) is... disturbing. Somehow.
Maybe I'll work up the courage to talk to people soon.
I would talk in something other than monosyllables if there was anything to say other than "Wee WoW!" and "Hot damn, I want to cook like I've never cooked before". There is only so much take-out I can take before my fingers start itching and I start thinking dangerous thoughts, like how that kumquat cake really wasn't that difficult (two days and many nervous breakdowns later...) or that Becca will eat something with spinach in it (and when I say she does I actually mean she doesn't).
I think I may have been a housewife in another life. This desire to cook (not even when I'm hungry; nor do I always want to eat what I cook!) is... disturbing. Somehow.
Maybe I'll work up the courage to talk to people soon.