Well, I’m back earlier than expected from my Houghton College visit day! We drove down last night under the guise of dropping my brother off at college, but we all know that the trip was all about me (sort of). My mum and I spent the night at the tiny little inn there, which is actually pretty adorable. (Somehow we ended up with the same room as we had two years ago when Brother first visited the college). Since the dining hall was already closed, we walked down the one real street of the tiny little village to their posh-ish Subway. (Seriously. Cathedral ceiling, picture windows, a spiral staircase—it has it all, as far as Subway goes.) I’ve recently discovered that banana peppers taste like potent pickles, so I was happy with the small dining selection available. After a night of Wives and Daughters and me stuffing my face with crackers because I was ravenous and there wasn’t anything else to eat, I drifted off into some psycho dream land filled with chicken thieves and kitchen knives. Let’s hope those dreams weren’t prophetic. In the morning, my mum woke up feeling nauseous and dizzy, so we went up to the admissions building to plead for an earlier interview. A lovely admissions counselor, Kate, complied, and I had a lovely chat about Barbara Kingsolver, Sense and Sensibilities, and internships at publishing houses in the big city woven into the dread interview. Overall, it was not near as bad as I had expected. (I also received my first Houghton T-shirt. Granted, they give these out like other colleges hand out paper cups of water, but it is still my first—a [sort of] momentous occasion.)
Ooh, I should also mention that Tommy Hilfiger outlets are the bomb. Yesterday I snapped up an adorable ruffled cardigan (one of my major weaknesses) which was partially cashmere (I won’t mention how much—it really is too small of an amount to really count for much other than to assure everyone that there are traces of cashmere present) for *drum roll* six bucks. Really. It was really nifty too, since I had been drooling over a similar style put out by J. Crew (whose website I’m currently salivating over) only a few months ago. Score! Oh, how I love my outlet malls.
In other news, my grandfather once again sent me a lovely little book…from pre-1920s. Yup, an ancient copy of “Burns: The Poets Day by Day” is now in possession, and I’m loving it. Books used to be not only the art of words, but of craftsmanship; each book was carefully assembled, each portrait carefully set in place, protected by thin sheets of tissue paper. Today’s poem was “Lassie wi’ the Lint-White Locks.” I think the best parts of this book would have to be that the inscription is dated 1921 in Gananoque, Ontario, and that whoever previously owned it penciled in the names of friends and family on their birthdays. I share a birthday with a mysterious Elsie!
Serendipity: Bread and Cheese, making the new Bagel Twists at Dunkin Donuts divine.
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