Here is my inaugural entry, which only provides slightly more explanation than this one.  And here‘s the main site so you can peruse my most recent posts.  See you there!

Salsa. Made entirely with fresh Williams garden ingredients (besides the garlic, I think).

Challah. Perfect for drunk weekend nights, quiet evenings with soup, and every other occasion you could possibly imagine.

Butternut squash soup. Yummy even though I don’t like squash.

Cheesecake. Still not sure why Nick had a springform pan at his disposal, but I wasn’t complaining.

Popovers. For when you don’t have the ingredients for anything else.

Casserole. America’s lasagna.

Cupcakes. For Margaret’s birthday. Made from a mix, but hey who’s keeping score?

Stir fry. My specialty (read: pretty much the only thing I can successfully cook on my own).

The ultimate sandwich. Melted cheese, fried egg, baby spinach, banana peppers, leftover Forge wings.

Tuscan sausage soup. Heaven in a pot.

Guacamole and spicy chicken soup. Tons of tomatoes in many shapes and forms.

Scones. Perfect for post-England cravings.

Sangria. Dangerously tasty.

Since laundry is boring, I thought I’d write a blog post.  I suppose I thought of my poor neglected blog because I just got an account at Google+, which got me thinking about internet presence and being social and communicative and stuff.

Anyway, Google+ happens to come along at just the right time for me (the world?), because I’d gotten to the point where I was HATING FACEBOOK SO FUCKING MUCH but still kind of wanted a social network to play with.  If you’re curious, it currently seems slick and Googley and empty, which is about what you’d expect from a new social network by Google.  The real test comes with time.

In other news, you may or may not be aware that the greatest nation on earth recently celebrated its birthday by exploding things!  Way to go, America!

Nick flew up to Boston for the weekend (well, the week, but who’s keeping track).  We ate lots of cheap delicious noms and walked around a lot and drank bubble shakes (fruit shakes + tapioca pearls, dude just go with it, the stuff is tasty as fuck).  We also kayaked down the Charles (in a two-person kayak, no less) for a crazy upper body workout and some bitchin’ skylines, and spent like all of Sunday at the Museum of Science because why wouldn’t we?  Oh and we watched those firework things too, that was pretty sweet.

Wow, I thought of so many things to blog about while walking back from the T and I can’t think of ANY of them right now.  And my laundry isn’t even half done.

Oh and also, the reason we weren’t on campus on Wednesday is because we were flying back from Florida, where we ate awesome seafood and watched perfect sunsets and swam in the exquisitely turquoise 85-degree waters of the Gulf.  In short: we win.

In other news, Nick and the stellar class of 2011 are graduating from Williams tomorrow.  So yeah: shit is getting totally real.

And what about after that?

Having a sister who just got her master’s and a boyfriend who’s getting a BA in a couple weeks does weird things to my sense of time.  Not to mention my sense of oldness.

(Speaking of feeling old, holy shit this blog is ancient.)

Now, if you’re on a meal plan, you go to dining services (actually you don’t have to physically go there anymore, but whatever) and get your meal plan reactivated on your new card.  And, magically, they KNOW how many meals you have left for the week.

HOWEVER, if you have laundry money on your card – let’s say $10 or $20 of laundry money (again, purely hypothetically) – they DON’T KNOW how much money you have left.

This is inane.  Because I lied a minute ago there.  It’s NOT magical that they know how many meals you have left, it’s because they have a record INDEPENDENT OF THE CARD ITSELF that keeps track of how many meals you have left.  Of course they do!

Yet somehow, they lack this record for keeping track of how much money you have left.  Somehow they can tell you, “Sorry, the amount can’t be read off the card,” and you’re thinking, “Well OF COURSE you can’t read the card, the card is fucking BROKEN.”  They need some rudimentary system, like I don’t know on a COMPUTER or something, that STILL KNOWS HOW MUCH MONEY YOU HAVE LEFT even if THE CARD ITSELF IS BROKEN.

Like imagine if your debit card got worn out and your bank told you, “Sorry, we can’t figure out how much money is on your card.”  And you lost all your money.

Maybe somebody’s thinking, “April, laundry money is not the same as a bank account, and anyway why did you put so much laundry money on your card in the first place?”  First of all, didn’t I say this was purely hypothetical, who said I was talking about myself?

Secondly, are you serious?  THEY’RE STEALING YOUR LAUNDRY MONEY, THE BASTARDS!

Finally, the convenience of NOT having to scrounge for quarters for laundry every couple weeks is NEGATED if you instead have to go to Paresky to put money on your card for laundry every couple weeks.  Technology is supposed to make our lives EASIER, but it only does that if we use it SMARTLY.

Fuck I hate laundry day.

(And yes, I’m going through a panda phase.  It may last… the rest of my life.)

Anyway.  Other things.  And stuff.

My sister and I independently and inadvertently gave ourselves the same haircut, just like Leibniz and Newton with calculus.  We discovered this over Skype.  We laughed awkwardly about it.  We agreed, it was indeed an excellent haircut.  This being my blog, I am forced to note the fact that I got the haircut two weeks before she did, but we Skype so rarely that she never knew.  Ergo: first!

(PS. If you’re curious what my hair looks like, and you knew me in high school, just imagine what I looked like in high school.  Except with more collegial wisdom and maturity, of course.)

On an unrelated note, there is not enough coffee on the planet for me to withstand Brent at 9am on a Monday morning.  I chug caffeine and try to follow his animated didacticism on fast Fourier transform, but all it does is make me jittery and unfocused by the time abstract algebra comes around.

Also, I’ve finally decided what I’m doing this summer.  And to my alarm, it’s not an REU.  It’s an internship in digital forensics… which basically means I’m going to be a detective, just like on CSI.  JUST KIDDING.

It’ll still be pretty sweet though.  It seems like the right decision, or at least a good one, and I hope my recommenders will forgive me for making them write a bunch of letters for nothing, because they too were indecisive college students once.  But I was always really certain I really wanted to do an REU this summer, and it’s weird how quickly that certainty fell apart.

Other niceties: sunshine and warmth, pi(e), being “dapper”, stories about Bill Thurston, free pizza, and so on.

Then I TAed three hours of lab.  That’s like twice as much lab as last semester (but at least there’s no grading!).  Fun, but kind of exhausting – especially when half the students are getting mired in the “Shit, Emacs ≠ BlueJay WTF” phase of the course.  It’s just a phase, kids, it’ll pass.

Then I went to the mailroom and picked up two deliveries.  DELIVERY ONE: my passport, in which I look about as much like a terrorist as a little Asian girl can look (sorry, sorry, insensitive).  DELIVERY TWO: an Algorithms textbook (autographed!), plus granola, plus cookies.  Plus a lot of plastic sheets.  Why does my mom use plastic sheets as packaging?  I do not know.  Apparently plastic sheets are in excess at her office.  Note that these are not hard plastic sheets, because that would be even weirder, but flexible like plastic bags.  Except they’re not bags.

Then I went home and ate cookies with milk.

Then I wrote a blog entry.