Paper models and their finished counterparts!

Managed to get to the bead store today to pick up extra supplies for class. And to pick up extra supplies for non-class to finish this charm necklace for Seph. And to fuel my inner chem-nerd flame with a tad of copper electroplating.

In preparation for the festivities, me, Mom, and co. helped set up the house.

My version of recycling our plethora of plastic grocery bags.

Tis the season for thank you notes.

As he drove, I sat queuing up songs to play. Although I have broad tastes in music, I have a particular affinity for top forty hits and tweeny pop. And I had a moderate case of what I’ll call ‘Jukebox Syndrome’: a kind of phobia of being in charge of putting on music for others or a crowd of people. I’d get wrapped up in trying to pick the kinds of songs that I’d think listeners would like. Plus, the more people there were, the more likely I would be at a loss for picking just the right songs (it becomes increasingly difficult to appease everyone simultaneously).

So we were sitting in the car, a wave of Jukebox Syndrome was hitting me with full-force, and I was at a loss. I explained this all to him. And my dad turned to me and said “Just play whatever music you like. And if people complain, who cares? You can like whatever music you want, and they can get over it.”

I’m now twenty years old, and I do not think I am above being a One Direction fan. Their profession is entertainment, they are vocally talented, and above all else, they harmonize.

And I’m so excited to be jamming on my brand new mic.

Brunch with the momma.

Baking day for a holiday Olympiad reunion. Dark chocolate cupcakes, filled with whipped cream and candy cane dust and topped with peppermint frosting. These were our concept sketches, and the real things turned out almost exactly how I’d imagined.

We were nostalgic for those competitive baking days of yore.

Dissatisfied with the first video we made (for our pitch to Square), Deen and I whipped this up last night, and we’re pretty happy with how it turned out. Shoutout to Joey for his sick beats (original track) and Jarples for his suave verbiage.

Written a few months ago, but recorded (and courage mustered to share it) a few days ago.

Lemon-cranberry bars for Thanksgiving.

Felt pretty elite walking up to the desk and saying “Can you let me into the ballroom? I’m on the list.”

Except, no ball and most assuredly no fantastical princess gowns.

Just an empty room and a lovely instrument.

Missing my lovely lady.

I explained the mashups list to James. I’ll listen to a song and, often inexplicably, a new song enters into my head at just the right time, wedding with the one playing aloud. Like dream journaling, unless I write down the pair immediately after this moment, I’ll lose it.

I’d like to make each mix that’s on the list (my brother and a certain burger-loving cousin of mine even introduced me to an app that serves such a purpose. But, one thing at a time; I’ve barely had time to work through my Photoshop tutorials). Until then, James and I will have to stick to our spontaneous jam sessions.

Since being back at school, I’ve been cooking quite a bit. Channeling my baker energies and my unwillingness to settle for mediocre meals means I spend a lot of time in the kitchen. Lots of produce. Lots of noodles. Lots of rice. But I still get anxious cooking meat. And the lighting in the kitchen is awful so capturing nice shots is tough.

I stress about the enormity of the zucchini. And then, halfway through mixing the ingredients, I realize that zucchini bread is the exact opposite way to use up lots of zucchini.

People often pretend they don’t care about eyebrows or genuinely don’t realize they care about eyebrows.

You can tell that something is off: faces ridden with untamed grasses or dirt specks or black worms.

But unless you’ve had experience scrutinizing brows, it might not register right away.

Call me a brow scrutinizer.

And not only because I have a plucking addiction. (Elle has a lovely overview. WikiHow has a horrendous one.)

Rather, it is a blatantly perfectionist art where mistakes have overt consequences. Too thin, too thick, too arched, too wide, too stark, too rushed, and the untrained eye will notice that ‘something is off.’ And when it’s just right, they go unnoticed. Great things are like that; no matter what it really takes, they look easy, seamless, and simple.

I wouldn’t say ‘famous’, but these weren’t too shabby. And I improvised a bit, as usual.