Christmas, Chocolate, and Other Good Combinations

This is what a merry Christmas looks like at my house.

It's what I saw this morning when I woke up. Mei woke up at three-thirty, but was kind enough to put off waking me up until an hour later. At which time I looked at the clock and told her promptly to go back to sleep. We emerged at seven, partially awake and covered in blankets. Because I am much more of a seven o'clock person than a four-thirty person. Four-thirty isn't even really morning. It's night. An ungodly hour of the night.

I know I haven't posted in two (and a half?) weeks. This wasn't because I forgot about it. The first week I was suffering and stressing (and every other distressing verb starting with a S and most other letters) under finals. I decided to actually write essays instead of getting on and complaining about them. (You're welcome.) The week after that I was lazy. Also, nothing was going wrong, which made it strangely difficult to write. It is slightly depressing to me that my writing abilities extend only as far as my ability to complain, but I have a hard time feeling sad that there was nothing to complain about this last week.

It is gratitude that now prompts me to break out the haze of laziness. This morning I unwrapped many beautiful presents. My grandma sent me several gifts, but high among them is a 100 year old poem book by Henry W. Longfellow. Grandma, it's beautiful in every sense of the word. Thank you.

Some of the other gifts I received were mentioned mentioned in my letter to Santa (as seen below). So, to Kelsey and Aunty Kathy, thank you very much for my scarf, drivers-licence and very generous transcript.

The scarf, combined with a jacket and sweater, compliments of my parents and Mei, are sure to prevent me from freezing at college next year. My drivers-licence is also much appreciated. I plan on using it today since I see it expires tomorrow. The transcript is lovely and the comments are full of half truths and blatant lies. Like, from my math teacher, Mr. Graph, "She can add like nobody's business." Not only is this in itself not true, but it totally neglects my unfortunate interactions with the evil generally referred to as geometry. Thank you so much. I'll mail it out Monday.

But you know, Santa, I'm still waiting to be accepted to colleges. Thank you for the end to my long-winded sickness, though, and also my A in IPB. Especially the A in IPB.

(A short bragging moment: Dr. Ford, who gives A's about as rarely as my dad, gave me a 96.8% on my final essay. Can you see me jumping up and down? I did right after I got the grade, and (because I'm a actual clutz as well as a social one) injured myself on a chair in the process. Getting A's on essays in IPB is especially satisfying not only because they're difficult to get, but also because I make such a dork of myself in class. It's nice to be able to show that, no, I'm not a total idiot. And, yes, coherent thoughts do take place in my brain, even if they rarely come out of my mouth.)

As long as we're talking about my Christmas gifts I have to mention that I have, at long last, gotten a food processor, which only leaves scholarships and enlightenment left. One down, two to go. I also have a beautiful new cookbook called Baked Explorations. 

It is full of chocolate and sentences like, "In recent years there has been an explosion in salt sophistication."

I love it. So much.

Last night my family went around and counted the Christmas lights in our little village. This is a tradition which my mother, Mei and I take part in full-heartedly. My dad participates by driving us around, but finds it all a bit hypocritical because we're disappointed when our Christmas light regulars neglect their colored, glowing duty, and yet we never put up any lights ourselves. In case you were curious, our count was 201 houses with Christmas lights or some other significant decoration, such as inflated Santas of giant Christmas bulbs.

My dad also thinks that opening one present on Christmas Eve, one of our hallowed family traditions is not so great. Bad, in fact. He thinks it's a transgression, if not a sin and refuses to have anything to do with it. He says a man must stand by his principles in controversial situations like this.

Controversial situation my foot. It's one present! It's Christmas Eve!

I love Christmas Eve even more than Christmas day, I think. Christmas day I'm often tired and sugared-our (we've got this amazing hot chocolate... and regular chocolate... and cookies... and lemon curd... and whipped cream... and candy-canes.... and--you get the idea), but Christmas Eve is much more quiet. It's about carols, and cooking with my mom and Mei, and arguing with my dad about whether or not heavenly beings are angered by me opening a present before Christmas. It's when I realize how amazing it is that 2010 years after Christ's birth, much of the world is still celebrating his birthday.

Anyway, all I really wanted to say is thank you to my family for the presents and, to the rest of you, thank for your comments, and just being interested enough to watch my muddle my way through learning how to blog.

Merry Christmas!

Mission in Life: Bennington and a Food Processor

We are here to reveal our purpose (cue drumroll). We know you've been waiting. The moment has finally arrived. We stopped procrastinating

So here is the thing, Marissa hatched this master plan while we were hanging out in her backyard being generally unuseful. Marissa started it, Katie picked up the cue and Andrea had to sit there while we developed this mindblowingly awesome sketch out of our lives for the next five years or so. 

The Plan

1. Write a blog. Check.

2. Get people to read our blog. That's obviously started with you (love you Mommy, and Aunt Celeste, Grandma, Megan, and Sister Hancock).

3. Keep in contact, out of trouble and generally avoid insanity for the summer. Because as Brother Orr likes to remind us, we're bad teenagers whose frontal lobes aren't developed. That's why we do stupid, daring things, like Adam Popcorn, writing blogs and... going on walks. Also, today we played with yoyos. But that's new for us. We'll tell you how it goes.

4. As happy as we are that you are reading this, we're kind of aiming for Bennington College's administration/office of admission and Mark Bittman. Bennington so they will think, 'we know these professor's daughters can't afford our katrillion dollar tuition so we'll give them a full ride because they are amazing and wrote a whole blog about how much they love us' and Mark Bittman so he will invite us on his little web show, just like that two year old on youtube. Then maybe we can meet his grandsons and marry them. We aren't pretentious at all. 

5. Go to Bennington. Room together. Have plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars on our ceiling. Own a food processor, so we can make all those things that we can't right now (like sorbet, and lemon tart will be easier too, rolls, bread, crackers, everything) even though we'll only be able to afford oatmeal then.


6. Fly home together, which will make the flights less boring. Maybe we'll bring a food processor as our carry-on, since we'll have become so dependent on it.

7. Graduate, go to our respective jobs. Rule the world. You know, the usual.

Is this possible? Absolutely. Probable? No, not at all. But hey, we're not the most realistic people in the universe, and we pride ourselves in our optimism. When the glass is half empty/half full, we see three quarters full. But then, math isn't our strong point.

All things considered, at least we have a dream, highly improbable though it may be. It is also highly detailed, which we see as a strength. We know what we want.

We want a window seat.

We want a "Dining Hall, the hot entrées are complemented by an extensive salad bar, soups, and freshly baked bread, a wok station, pizza station, pasta station, deli bar, and many other items. "


And we want... whatever this is.

And we are convinced it is Bennington that can give it to us. That is our master plan, our hearts desire and the purpose of this blog. So if you happen to know Mark Bittman or anyone who works at/goes to or knows someone who work ats/goes to Bennington or else someone who gives out any manner of scholarships (or food processors), do us a favor and casually bring us up in a conversation sometime. The names are Marissa Compton and Katie Orr, A Tale of Two Teenagers.

Over.