Slipping Through The Cracks

It's that time of year again. It's the time of year when Provo maliciously tries to fool us poor California girls into the idea that spring is on the way and that summer is just around the corner. I went to school today wearing two layers, a sweater and beautiful leather jacket I found in Milan. Like a forming butterfly, I am eager to shed my cocoon of blankets and coats that have been swarthing me all January long, but the cool winter wind whispers "Not yet" in its pervasive chilling tone and I am obliged to bear my winter cocoon still.

Its also the time of year when my brain starts to settle down after the introduction of new classes, new buildings, and new people. After many failed attempts to juggle homework, my two jobs, and my roommates, I'm finally discovering the complex pattern that keeps all my commitments aloft at the same time without me straining a ligament in my hands that are furioiusly moving to make sure a ball doesn't drop. And yet, as I attempt to support my precious balance I have created this semester, my brain surges ahead and connivingly tells me that I'm not doing enough, and that I, of course, have time to take on that Honors Student Advisory Council or start another writing project for Insight, when, in all reality, I most definitely don't. And so, I tell my mind to take some time off, that it should stop its incessant dialogue so that I can concentrate on my academic projects and classes. It kind of works.

I've been so busy that time is flying by me at wicked speeds. January is dwindling to a close. How did that happen? It seems only last week that I was packing my bags after Christmas in California, ready, even if a little unwilling, to start the new semester. Now, February stands ready on the horizon. Time is slipping through the cracks at a steady pace. As the individual grains slip through the hourglass, my time this semester is waxing. Let's hope I can delve deep and bring that depth to the light to make the most of each seemingly insignificant grain.

A Beginning

Today I had someone tell me that if I keep putting something off, it will never happen. This applies to the New Year's running program I planned, finding the perfect combination of spices to put into hot chocolate, and the homework that should have been done yesterday which just never happened after I came home. It also applies to writing. I started this blog in October (October!) when the weather was still warm and I would come home from classes to eat lovely Greek bruschetta, my way. Vine-ripened tomatoes, fresh coarsely chopped basil, a little crumbled feta all drizzled in a shimmering coat of extra virgin olive oil on toasted wheat pita bread.

It's January, and I'm still dreaming about my tomato concoction and the days before the weather turned cold. But, the tomatoes that sit in the produce department are a sickly salmon hue, the basil is brown from disuse, and the feta will freeze in my refrigerator, even with the heater blasting. Winter has descended upon me. But, even though it's still early in winter semester and the temperature was eight degrees when I left my dorm on Wednesday, the taste of Greek bruschetta lingers in the back of my mind. I combat it with hot chocolate. I fight it with savory soups. I resist it by eating homemade bread and warm comfort foods, all the while negotiating. Soon. Soon is what I say when I dream of the sun; soon it will be time again for basil and feta.

Soon is still far off though, and I have all the pleasures of winter waiting in the wings to be called on stage for me to experience. Tonight it rained, meaning the sidewalks were slick with ice. I came home with my roommate to find a glistening, conniving ice-covered walkway impeding the way to our apartment. Courtney held my hot chocolate, I held the cookies as we slipped across, slid down, and fought to stay upright on our way in from the car. It was fun. It was scary. It was something I wouldn't have missed for the world. Laughter, smiles, and success at the end over the wintery elements. All with the best roommate a girl could have. Winter does have its perks, even without basil and feta.