Oberlin Blogs

I knew that college was supposed to be full of life-changing realizations, but I'm not sure I could have prepared myself for this.

Once we landed at Cleveland-Hopkins Airport, I woke up and raced for the bus stop. After waiting outside for 10 minutes, I huddled indoors and discovered I had missed the last bus by 15 minutes. Gahhh.

I learned that there is a certain art to pie-making, kneading from the center out, making sure that the middle isn't too thin, and being careful to leave a slightly raised border along the outside so there's some semblance of crust after it bakes.

It looked delicious... but we were told we couldn't eat yet. It is an extremely sadistic thing to show us food and tell us we can't partake. I was ready to dive in. But there was a reason.

As a rule, I try to avoid soaking in sicky-sweet pools of sentimentality (diabetes does, after all, run in my family), but when I talk about Thanksgivings at Fairkid I can't help but get that...

As I write this (but not as I type this, because I'll be doing that later), I'm drinking egg nog left over from my dinner at Lord/Saunders. That's right, I ventured to south campus to eat dinner tonight.

I had the distinct pleasure of flying to Rome for fall break to see my S.O., who is studying Classics there, and I got to employ a lot of what I've learned in classrooms and the coops during my stay.

Bad idea: Working on a Friday night.