lundi 8 mai 2006

I am obviously procrastinating instead of writing my paper for my molecular biology/neuroanatomy class.

No, I don't know why I'm taking a class in that field. I am in education. Nothing in ["e-j&-'kA-sh&n] sounds like ["nur-&-&-'na-t&-mE"] or [m&-'le-ky&-l&r bI-'ä-l&-jE]. Nothing. It sounded like a good idea, though - until I had to write a 5-page paper for it. I realise that that's a nothing paper, compared to the 20-pagers I usually churn out, but, sniffle, I don't know this field. (The class is interesting for the most part, however, even though today I was so bored I was sending text messages such as: this new prof looks like a gay elf, but taller, and might be a tranny on the weekends. He has nice eyebrows - for a GIRL.)

In my defense, he really did have very pretty and feminine eyebrows, which many women would kill for, the arch on them was just perfect, and a slightly effeminate voice.

So I have carrot soup on the stove - another exercise in procrastination - and just sliced up this Cara Cara orange I bought at the farmers' market yesterday. (You can't possibly type on the computer if your fingers are all covered in sticky orange juice, right?) I have to say, if you can find these in the market, they're certainly worth the extra money. I've been picking up a couple of bags every weekend for the past month or so from my citrus vendor at the farmers' market, this is how much in love with them I am. (Moreover, I actually eat them, rather than do things like turn them into vehicles for vodka, which I inevitably end up doing with blood oranges.) They're tart, but barely so, and yet not sweet in a cloying sense. And they're such a lovely colour (a sunsety pinky-orange), and wonderfully fragrant.

As a matter of fact, I don't know why I'm typing when I could be eating.