What a year.

My goodness, it's been quite a year. Almost exactly a year ago was prom, but so much has happened since then. Let's recap, shall we?

• I graduated (and went to the subsequent parties). That was a biggie.
• I taught VBS to 3-year-olds. Happening again this year? Uh, duh.
• I partied it up on a houseboat at the Texas-Oklahoma border with the Tallowood seniors.
• I led my tribe to victory at Camp Tallowood.
• I traipsed up I-45 all the way to Colorado Springs with my motley crew of a team for a mission trip.
• I baked up a storm, then met my dad in the kitchen each night to see how much of it we could put away (if only so I could make something else). I'm telling you, summer: nothing quite like it.
• I was roped into a last minute pit-playing job for everyone's favorite student-produced musical, Floyd Collins. Best decision ever (and I'm doing it again this summer).
• I said goodbye. A lot.
• I did perhaps my least favorite thing for a whole month: endured oodles upon oodles of small talk through the death they call orientation and adjusting to life in a new place.
• I became part of the Symphony Orchestra and the Women's Chorale (never thought I'd see that day).
• I ate at Alinea, an insanely expensive but equally innovative and delicious restaurant in Chicago.
• I invented a new method for outlining papers, designed especially for all you visual learners out there.
• I met up with some friends from high school in Chicago and almost missed the train back to Wheaton...oops.
• I blogged every day for a month!
• I went a little nuts with the door decorations.
• I made it through my first Christmas Festival! And finals!
• I popped into Philadelphia for a little stay with my sister. Except for all the fun vomiting that went on there, I've been missing that a lot lately. There was a puppy. There was a fuzzy blanket. There was a comfy bed. And there was delicious food. And there was no need to set an alarm for the mornings.
• Christmas happened! (Brilliant, Margaret. Christmas in December, who would've thunk it?)
• I switched from the College of Arts and Sciences to the Conservatory of Music. That really was brilliant. No, really.
• I finally got some classes I cared about. I also made a decision only a crazy person would make in voluntarily taking Inorganic Chemistry. Who am I?
• I flew home to surprise my friend for her senior recital! Not only was it the biggest surprise I've pulled off to date, but it was the focal point of the first two weeks of my spring semester.
• I set off to make a recipe for some copycat buffalo chip cookies. Almost there, but that's another post.
• I shadowed two pit conductors in the big city of Chicago. Fun times, fo realz.
• I secretly trained to "run" a 10K on April 1. And by "run," I mean "get myself from point A to point B on foot at whatever speed I can muster." And by "secretly," I mean "everyone outside of my family knew."
• I showed a whole orchestra the wonders of Texas on our orchestra spring break tour to Texas! Made me love my state so much more.
• I made a couple more doors.
• I learned to play the flute.
• I applied for a bunch of things and didn't get them.
• I applied to be the sophomore class's Conservatory representative and the orchestra's Assistant Business Manager and got them!
• I baked a million things, and made a list of a million more to make this summer.
• And I missed all of you. 

Now listen. I'm coming home. But first, a stop in London to become a cultured person, sort of. B&Bs! Buggy rides through the countryside! Eating in pubs! Seeing musicals! Picnics on gingham cloths! By the time you see me again, I'll be interested solely in eating scones and drinking tea with my pinky out. Looks like you'll have some catching up to do. Better hop to it.

Surprises, round 2.

Today, I got to pull off my second respectably-sized surprise of the calendar year. In late January, I was told by some people on my floor that I should sign up for the Chi Town Half Marathon, to which I sensibly said, "Ha, no." At this point, I made a deal with one of those people to run as far as I could one afternoon, and if it was more than six miles, I would consider the Half Marathon. And thank goodness, it was not. But it was a good effort at 4.1 miles of a running/walking combo. So I signed up for the 10K instead (6.2 miles instead of 13.1). But for someone with such an impassioned lifelong anti-running streak as I have had, what would make this more fun? Keeping the whole thing a secret from my family, of course. All this for a few reasons: first, because surprises are fun; second, because I wasn't quite sure how it would turn out; and third, because it's just nicer not to have to deal with all the questions about how "training" is going (snerk) and whether I'm nervous about it and whether it was really a good idea.

So I ran just a wee bit at first, taking off for the orchestra tour to Texas, the two colds I had (still not sure how that's fair), and a weekend in Memphis. And although I never really got the hang of running more than about half a mile without walking some, running a mile became not nearly as big of a deal.

And then came the fun part: race prep! Secret trips to Target. Free ("free" meaning "included in the price of registration") quarter-zip meshy shirt thing with snazztastic thumb holes to feel like a real runner. Stealing applesauce, granola, and Chia seeds (wonder-seeds that gel when mixed with water) for breakfast the morning of.

We set out for Lincoln Park on a rather chilly, wet morning at the very early hour of 6:30, and after much to-do about parking, riding the bus, using the port-a-potties, and dropping off bags at the gear check tent (even though I might ask why you would leave your "gear" at the start line when, theoretically, any gear you would have brought would have been for the run anyway). We lined up, started the race, finished the race, kablam.

And at this point, my need for energy is kind of taking over my desire to give you a very factual account of this event. My condolences. Maybe later. But I'll leave you with this thought: peer pressure has never had such positive effects.

Another day, another door.

This one was inspired by 4-year-olds everywhere. I'm already gearing up for VBS.

I had a realization yesterday: I am so incredibly grateful that we need food to survive.

It sounds weird, but think about it. If eating were merely an option, like wearing jewelry or makeup, then who knows what I'd be missing out on? If we didn't have to eat at least three times a day, the demand for food wouldn't be nearly what it is. If we didn't have to eat food to survive, then those who regularly did so would be weird, like people who wear pounds of makeup and a bajillion clangy bangles just because they can. Besides that, not needing food would mean that our bodies wouldn't need the energy it provides, which would mean that the typical eating person would be considerably larger than is desirable.

That was one bizarre paragraph. But all this is to say that food is delicious. Oreos, cereal, chocolate, sweet potatoes, animal crackers, chicken, peanut butter, all that stuff. Delicious. 

Let's catch up.

Since we last chatted, quite a bit has happened. I made a trip to Texas by bus, enduring many bus trips where a certain couple across the aisle clearly had never heard the phrase "get a room." Of course, the trip also featured many pleasant things, like frantically pointing at the latest herd of cows, staying in homes of very hospitable Southerners who enjoy nothing more than force-feeding you strawberry shortcake, and convincing yourself that it would probably save time to just sleep in your concert black. All in all, a good trip. But it's good to be back.

But as nice as it is to have a routine, it's even nicer when your routine gets interrupted, as mine recently has. Due to all kinds of bizarre circumstances, I'll be going to Memphis next weekend (no, not this weekend) with the Mock Trial team. I'll be playing the role of Timekeeper, an important part, to be sure. Plus, since memorizing the bell schedule and synchronizing my watch down to the second with the school clocks in middle school, I think it'd be safe to say that timekeeping is my passion. So, to Memphis we will go.

And I wouldn't be truly back in the saddle again if I weren't baking. I'm carrying on with the Buffalo Chip Challenge, and if you ask me, it's going fairly well. Round 2 is this week's project, and it is significantly closer to the real deal than Round 1 was. And I would show you a picture, except my camera cord seems to have gone on a little walkabout. But soon, I promise. (Update 3/19: I found it, see?)

They didn't spread much at all. They were not too sweet. I think we're almost there. (The one thing I'm not so sure about is the texture. Mine were more like your normal cookie, whereas the originals were crumbly; when you bite in, your teeth don't compress the cookie at all, they just separate the part of the cookie in your hand from the part of the cookie that will soon be in your tummy. Let's hope that made as much sense to you as it did in my head. Your cookie should stand up to your teeth, show it who's boss.*)

But to hone my procrastination skills just that much more, I've recently discovered a few new food blogs. Exactly what I need, I'm sure. My favorite at the moment: Homesick Texan. Maybe I am one, but more likely is that the food looks perfect. I've already started a list, and I'm kicking it off with this. Followed closely by cookies and cake and cornbread and tomato jam and salsa and, when summer finally rolls around**, lots of peach ice cream. Crank up the ovens, I'm a-coming.

*Clearly, those hours on the bus took a greater toll on my mental faculties than I realized.
**And who decided Illinois could be 81 and sweaty in March?! This is so not what I signed up for.

Gone to Texas.

You say, "Big deal, you're going home for spring break. Party time." But no, this is no ordinary trip home. This one involves 49 hours on a bus and many musicians. But it's late, I won't keep you. (And let's be real, I'd like to sleep, too.) I'll be roaming the countryside with all them cows and buffalo, and you should pop on in for a concert sometime. There'll be a Hoe-Down, a violin concerto, a piece by a Finnish guy, and a whole lot more. Here's where we'll be and when. Holler if you're in town, I'll shoot you some more specific details about the concerts. They're sure to be barn-burners.

Sunday, March 4: Dallas, TX
Monday, March 5: Waco, TX
Tuesday, March 6: Tyler, TX
Wednesday, March 7 (in the mornin'): Longview, TX
Thursday, March 8: Houston, TX
Friday, March 9: Little Rock, AK
Saturday, March 10: Jefferson City, MO

Now sing yerself a li'l ditty in preparation for this here tour:

The stars at night are big and bright
(clap, clap, clap, clap)
Deep in the heart of Texas.
The prairie sky is wide and high
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.

The sage in bloom is like perfume
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.
Reminds me of the one I love
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.

The coyotes wail along the trail
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.
The rabbits rush around the brush
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.

The cowboys cry, "Ki-yip-pee-yi"
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.
The dogies bawl and bawl and bawl
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.

I charge thee...

I have but a simple message for you all on this fine, fine evening: if you have not yet experienced the wonder of sliced, frozen banana, it's high time.

The specifics are these:

• You must slice, then freeze. No one wants to make unattractive noises and flail upon realizing that biting off a big chunk makes your teeth very very cold.
• You must eat with your fingers. It's just banana slices. There's no reason to bring silverware into this.
• The experience really is heightened if you think of yourself as a three-year-old while eating. I mean, if you're picking up banana slices and smiling to yourself about how delicious they are, don't you just get that popsicle-on-a-playground feeling? And aren't all playgrounds built for three-year-olds?

Now hop to it. No time to waste. Those bananas are calling your name.