Madison kicks Athen's butt

Come on, can't OU keep up anymore?

Reaching new lows

No one has ever accused me of being a good cook. I try, of course, and I can follow a recipe with the best of them, but much like my gardening abilities, good intentions alone never seem to do the trick. "Edible" is the most likely adjective to describe anything I make.

I'm such a disaster in the kitchen that I often opt to "cook" by reheating--leftovers, frozen dinners, anything that doesn't require me to use any sort of dangerous appliance.

This morning, however, I woke up early thanks to the wonders of the fall time change. And with all that extra time, I decided I needed PANCAKES. And not just any pancakes, I needed pancakes with strawberry syrup and strawberries.

I headed on over to the grocery store and bought all the necessary ingredients. Since I am living on the student budget, I went for the cheapest pancake mix I could find--Krusteaz buttermilk mix for $1.50. I found a bottle of Safeway brand strawberry syrup. I bought strawerries.

Back in my large, lovely double-oven, electric stove island kitchen, I mixed up the ingredients. Since we don't have a griddle, I figured I ought to warm up a pan so that the cakes would cook right away. I flopped a teflon pan onto the stove and threw the thing on high.

A few minutes later, the pan smelled a little funny. I was worried that heating it without food would hurt the pan, so I dribbled a little oil into the bottom. Immediately, it began to smoke. Since my roommate was still sleeping, I thought setting off the fire alarm would be bad, so I grabbed the pan's handle and lifted it off the stove so it could cool down.

In the pan's place, right where the ELECTRIC burner is, a sudden and rather large puff of flame burst to life.

I was so shocked that I simply froze. I think I might have screamed, too. Fortunately, it quickly burned itself out (and without taking any of my hair with it, thank God) and the stove appeared to return to normal. I was able to put the pan back down and successful cook (OK, burn) the pancakes, but STILL.

Who sets an electric stove on fire??

Clearly, I have issues.

Free money!

As a student, you live for found money. Discover a $1 bill in the coat you haven't worn for a year? Ecstacy. Recover $5 bucks from the jeans you wore three weeks ago and forgot about? Beer worthy. Find $20 in the depths of your closet? It's time to go shopping!

Money is definitely harder to come by these days. Looking at my checkbook is a depressing activity--watching as the balance shrinks more each day without hope of replenishment until January 2 when round 2 of student loans kicks in.

So you can only imagine my pure, unadulterated delight when I logged on to my DC-based bank account and discovered that my balance was not $100 but over $1,000! Thanks to the modern day miracles of direct deposit and the joys of paid vacation days, I am now a rich woman. Granted, my last day of work was two full months ago to the day, but hot damn, better late than never.

Hallelujah! Baby needs a new pair of shoes!

Happy Midterms

Yes, that's right, it's midterm time here in grand old Evanston, and after about five days of nonstop studying and four hours of (really not so grueling) testing, I am more than glad it's over. As T pointed out today on the phone, I am now 1/8 through the academic work in the program.

I have to say, coming back to school was much more of an adjustment than I thought it would be. I wasn't prepared to study quite so hard; I wasn't ready to completely abandon any thoughts of having a social life; I definitely wasn't prepared to not understand what the f$%* my professors talk about half the time.

But the good news is, after the first round of testing, I'm feeling OK. Like maybe I can do this after all. And maybe, just maybe, do kind of well. Sort of.

Part of it is re-training myself not to be such an overachiever. It's been hard for me to accept that it's OK not to have the highest grade in the class--especially if it means you can steal several hours of sanity over a few beers and some new good friends.

So with that in mind, I'm skipping the books this evening and heading out for a well deserved drink.

It's a dark day in celeb-reality

My friend TV has been the bearer of bad news all day.

First we learn Nick and Jessica are caput (no one saw that one coming) and then People magazine confirms that super "couple" TomKat are "expecting" (ok, they're just expecting more publicity, but still).

The biggest celeb shocker of the day? Someone named Chris Cagel (a country singer according to the AP) is announcing his girlfriend just gave birth to some other man's baby.

After posting this to his web site, he asks tht people respect his privacy. Call me crazy, but I would never have know 1. that Chris Cagel was being cuckholded and 2. that there was a "Chris Cagel" in the entertainment industry if he hadn't issued this statement.

Now I feel compelled not to respect his privacy.

Love or Hate

There are certain things that evoke the extreme. Folks either love it or hate it. Its a rare feat to find somebody with ambiguous feelings about:

The New York Yankees

Paris Hilton

Kathy Lee Gifford

and this dude (I'm going on hate)

She Flies through the Air, with the Greatest of Ease

Krisp and I joined some friends for a day trip to Baltimore this weekend to learn to trapeze. Yep, you read that right, we hung from a small bar 22 feet suspended in the air.

Unfortunately, the title refers to Krisp, not me. I flew through the air with the greatest of fear. I’m talking abject terror. Just thinking about it makes my heart rate speed up and my palms sweat.

It started out so well. You first practice on the ground. Hands on the bar, legs up, knees on the bar, let go with the hands, hands back on the bar, knees down. My heart rate went up a bit, but I figured it was excitement.

Next challenge, the real trapeze. (I should note that we are totally harnessed in. I’m in more danger of falling while walking down the street.)

Watching the people ahead of me climb up, I felt a little apprehensive, but mostly excited. Then I climbed the latter. Apprehension became panic. My heart was racing, my palms were sweating and I started to feel light headed.

Once I hit the top platform, I became pretty sure I was going to have to climb right back down. Luckily we came with several friends, all of whom would mock me for months if I didn’t get on the trapeze. So I did.

We have a video proof of me standing on the platform and swinging from the trapeze – thank goodness because I have no memory of anything after my feet left the ground.

I don’t think the circus will be calling me anytime soon. Despite several more times up the latter, I never completed the first trick. But I didn’t climb down the latter, so that’s something.

On the other hand, Krisp may soon be a Flying Wallenda. She did it all – she even swung from her trapeze and was caught by the instructor hanging from another trapeze. Impressive stuff!

I can’t believe I paid money to be frightened half to death… but we’re going back in two weeks to do it again. And next time, the circus better watch out!