Champagne Socialists.

Debut, les damnés de la terre!

Nous ne sommes pas les forçats de la faim.  Parce que nous avons brunché.  (Seriously?  How can the French not have a word for “to brunch?”)

Oh hai! I’m back.  I finished my last written exam last Wednesday night and have been a slothful wretch ever since.  I was doing that thing where you hide under a rock with your elbows out and have ’60s protest music playing on endless repeat.  (You mean you don’t ever do that?)  So I invited my buddies over for May Day Brunch this morning.

Champagne Socialist Solidarity: You're doing it right.

It was the absolute best way a person could spend a May morning.  This week instead of baking my bread dough into loaves, I rolled it out into a half-sheet pan, retarded it in the refrigerator, and stamped out english muffins.  I couldn’t find my round cookie cutters, so I used flowers.  Clearly.  (Then the Barefoot Rooster reminded me that canning jar lids work very well when one can’t find cookie cutters, so I made some round ones, too.)

But here are some of the flowers.

I used these to recreate my favorite breakfast sandwich from a restaurant in Providence: toasted english muffin, olive tapenade, goat cheese, roasted red pepper, griled tofu.  Mmmmmm.

Anyhow, socialism and socializing: perfect post-exam-funk remedy.

My oral exam is this Thursday, and while I meant to spend the intervening week preparing — I just can’t bring myself to.  I definitely put at least two books I haven’t read on the syllabi I wrote for two of the exams, so I figure I probably ought to read them.  But oh gosh.  My eyes are still bloodshot from the last few weeks.  I ran into an anthro comrade a few times in the wee small hours at the library last week, and each time he asked if I was okay, because it looked like I had been crying.  And — at least directly before those encounters — I hadn’t!  But I’ll have to force my eyes to read again soon, at least to review what I wrote, I guess.

And so what have I been doing in my slothful days?  Knitting!  I’ll post a picture tomorrow once I weave in the ends, but, inspired by the lovely Eileen’s shrug, I knit a similar one.  Because (I can’t believe I’m admitting this) I’ve decided what dress I’m wearing to my orals, and it’s sleeveless!  And any southern lady worth her pearls knows that you don’t go to places of worship or places of work with bare shoulders; it just ain’t fittin.  So I knit a little sweater-ish thingie to go with it.  Gender: ur performin it right, lulz.