We Interrupt This Regularly Scheduled Sabbatical...

Because once I say "I don't have anything to write about," I start coming up with things to write about.

For example: I was browsing web-logs the other day, and I came across one in which the author recounted, "It is -25 C out today. My tea froze between Sid Smith and Emmanuel College (ten minute walk). In the thermos."

Where is she studying? University of Toronto. Oh, heh. I, um... think I want to go there...wimpy Californian that I am...

I do recommend that journal, by the way, for two reasons. One: It will make you feel really, really guilty about all the writing you should be doing. Two: Spectacular lines such as, "Then I came home and did my writing, which according to Rousseau is not attractive, so I suppose I shall never score with either Kant or Rousseau. I am not crying."

"So, Alice," you may ask, "What did you do with your weekend?"

"Well," I might say, "on Saturday night, Veronica and I stayed in and made posters about the English Monarchs."

"Excuse me?"

Well... perhaps I should show you:



Those three pictures are from Veronica's poster. I really wanted to do one of the Welsh Kings, but 1) it was too complicated for one sheet of posterboard, and 2) The English Monarchy is actually more useful for my BA, because I can see what dynasties were interacting with the Welsh at different times. However, my poster was done in its own...Celtic...idiom.




There is an egregious error in this last picture, and I'll find some sort of a reward for you if you find it. Emily, my dear, you are ineligible for a reward because you do this in grad school. You may still scold me for not paying attention.


Sunday was January 28th, so we had a dinner party for St. Tommy A, just like last year. To refresh your memory:

This year looked pretty similar:

I made Penne with Portobello Mushroom Rago from The Best Recipe, which I highly recommend, and Steph made a (also highly recommended) irish cream chocolate cake. Steph also brought a "special guest" to the dinner, having semi-absconded with Calvert House's statue of St. Thomas. Here's her account.

Oh, and Friday I went to a "Jersey Party" dressed as the token California Hippie, but I went home early because I wanted to finish the book Emily sent me for my birthday more than I wanted to dance. Nota Bene: you know you're a medievalist when you're reading a historical mystery and, coming across the line "it was instant chemistry between them," you think, "well, that's anachronistic!"