Currently Watching The Sopranos: The Complete First Season By James Gandolfini, Edie Falco see related

I need some kneepads

Currently Listening Up to Here By The Tragically Hip Hasn't Hit Me Yet see related

Reflections of a Furman Alumna

Currently Listening rearviewmirror (Greatest Hits 1991-2003) By Pearl Jam Betterman see related

Well, as usual I've been super-slack about updating my Xanga, but a couple recent events have been so incredible that despite having a research paper on French romanticism due Monday, I had to find the time to post.

First up, "Translations" cast party.  Yes, I'm well aware that I wasn't technically in the cast, but that didn't make the closing festivities any less enjoyable.  While everyone else was at the beach, I was working the longest shift known to man at Blue Fire Grill as one of the newest members of their "restaurant family".  I like it there so far, and my coworkers are actually close to my age, as opposed to Stax's.  But anyways, that Saturday night was a late one, and the only thing getting me through it and the long drive back across town were thoughts of the cast party that evening.  One of the best parts was the sudden reappearance of several familiar Furman faces from days of yore.  Chess, Ian, and John Paul all graced us with their presence at Kevin's apartment.  Since I wasn't actually in the production, I felt it would be rude of me to come empty-handed, so I'd baked nutella brownies and a pear and almond cheesecake that morning, which seemed to go over well.  However, cutting the cheesecake proved a tad difficult when we discovered that Kevin and Ned do not own a real knife anywhere in their apartment.  Seriously, plastic cutlery is the only type available.  Besides good food and friends, there were also Ruxy's insane dance skills, which were enough to make my night all by themselves.  Basically, amazing.

Secondly, my birthday.  I turned a ripe old (verging on rotting) 22 on Monday.  However, my depression at having acquired this seemingly staggering number of years was ameliorated by my wonderful, amazing friends.  Colleen got up that morning and decorated our side of the apartment with streamers and balloons.  Luckily for her, I could sleep through an earthquake, and so I was totally surprised when I woke up an hour later and discovered it.  Thanks to the "term of languages" as I've dubbed it, I heard Happy Birthday in Italian, French, and English all day long.  Murdock was sweet enough to organize a dinner at Chicora Alley that I was looking forward to all day.  However, Dr. Hausemann was a little longwinded before our film screening, and so I was running late for my own birthday dinner. I think I would have enjoyed Night of the Living Dead much more if I hadn't been glancing at my watch ever 30 seconds.  I did make it downtown eventually though, and Murdock, Mary Beth, Elizabeth, Sophie and I had a great time.  Then, we hustled back to campus for the directing class plays, which were enjoyable as always.  I wish I could have auditioned for them, but the new job had other ideas.  Back at my apartment later that night, the roomies, Elizabeth M, and I had cake (And this year it didn't stick to the pan, mostly because it was from publix  and a little later the boys from next door came over to partake of the leftovers.  Really, the best birthday I could have asked for.  I also got several useful French themed gifts for my upcoming travels.  New scarfs from Clary and Elizabeth, a book by the "anti-Peter Mayle" from Jess, and the most useful Moleskine notebook ever from Murdock.  I'd always secretly coveted his, and this one has a metro map of paris, a listing of all the major roads by arrondissements, and a place to keep notes on all my favorite cafes and boulangeries. No more fears of losing my metro map!

So things are quickly winding down.  It still seems so unreal, despite all the "lasts" and "senior events" being thrust upon me, that I'm really graduating a week from tomorrow.  I'll be living in denialville just a little longer, thank you very much.  I just had my Italian exam this morning, so now there are only 2 pages of French romanticism between me and freedom.  Speaking of lasts, tomorrow is my very last FUtones concert at 6:30pm in Harper Hall, and I'd better see everyone there, because it's going to be amazing!

I've been meaning to post for awhile now about my Easter break with the ever entertaining Droullard clan, but my busy schedule has had other plans.  However, no more shall that be the case!  So here's a quick recap of the holiday's more memorable moments:

I arrive in Sanford at around 2 on Friday, and I am immediately hugged and kissed and passed around by all the relatives, then put straight to work in the kitchen.  I was also informed that Matthew was pouting because he was severely under-represented on my grandparents fridge.  The rest of the grandkids all had 6 or more photos, and Matthew had three.  So while the boys were out golfing, Bimbi ran to the photo albums and proceed to create a 'montage to Matthew' which monopolized all the prime fridge real estate.  I guess the squeaky wheel gets the grease.  The two Droullard dogs were also present this year, and Mom said she felt like Ben-Hur trying to take both Murray and my darling Shmoopy for a walk.

Every holiday, my Aunt has to share her newest sick and twisted find with the family.  At Christmas, it was the Marie Antoinette action figure with a pop-off head.  Easter, it was a wind up chicken that walked across the table and dropped little gumball eggs out of its butt.  But what can you expect from a woman who wrote a "Happy Pancreas" song for Grandad's surgery?  She later started telling the story of a family trip to the beach when Matthew and I were still infants.  Apparently, they put us both on a blanket, and I kept rolling over and squirming and refusing to stay still, while Matthew predictably anchored down the fabric like a solid, drooling, anvil.  "oh great," Aunt Mary Kay thinks "My sister has flipper for a child and I have shamu!"

Saturday night we went to dinner at the club, and as always my heart went out to the poor wait staff.  Bimbi declared that she was "sitting between my grandsons, and Don is sitting between his granddaughters, and I don't care where the rest of you end up!"  Nice to know we're at the top of the totem pole.  She also, after the influence of a couple bourbon's and waters, started to fill us in on all the workplace drama of the club's staff.  Referring to the head waitress, Bimbi told us that "She's in charge of all the other waiters.  She's the top notch server and sometimes she's a top notch bitch!"  Say what you want about my Bimbi, she calls it like she sees it.  We think Matthew has a career as a song writer.  While his sister described her friend who plays the guitar and wrote a song for his mother, Matthew explodes "oh, give me a break!  It's that same guy at every fraternity party, strumming those same 3 Sublime chords over and over...and they all sing the same song!  It's the one that goes 'oh, I love my mother.  I wish I'd been nicer to her.  I wrote this song for my mother, and I'll play it for every blonde!"

After church on Sunday, where Mom's efforts to have us sit in two pews were continually thwarted by Grandad's insistence that they sit in 'his' pew, we had brunch at the house, followed by an Easter egg hunt.  We finally convinced Matthew to forgo the traditional egg dying and all out ensuing war for supremacy with something a little simpler.  Bimbi and Grandad hid plastic eggs with each grandkid's name throughout the house.  They put them somewhere associated with the person they were for.  Ergo, mine was by the stove because I like to cook, and Matthew's was in the fridge because he likes to eat.  Patrick knew what was up as soon as the rules were explained.  Without missing a beat, he responded "oh, so mine's in the liquor cabinet!"  I'm not sure which is more disturbing...that that was his first guess or that he was right, because sure enough, Bimbi had hidden it right next to the Scotch.  As I told him, "Patrick, it may be a little bit of a sign you've got a problem if what your GRANDPARENTS associate with you is scotch!"  Honestly though, I think he's proud of it.  The point was also made that Matt's could have been hidden with the toilet paper, since he is, in his own words "a three-ply kind of guy".  He apparently steals it from the school.  "Wait," Patrick asked him "your school buys 3-ply?"  "For the alumni bathrooms, man!  You've got to know where to look!"

So with these fond memories of my crazy family propelling me into April, I headed back to Furman.  More on the scintilating events of Spring term when I find another free moment....probably in August.