The Signs of Womanhood

I have a huge Wal-mart list, but I haven't had time to go.  Instead, I made a quick stop at the grocery store for the vitals.  Three two-gallon jugs of water, a 12 oz bag of milk chocolate chips, and a bottle of Tylenol.

Since you can't go out in public here without seeing someone you know, I ran into one of my professors.

"That makes so much sense," she said after a quick glance at the items in my hand.  "On so many levels."

Busted.

I laughed it off.  There was no way she'd believe the water was a weekly purchase, the Tylenol because I finally ran out of the nasty store-brand pain reliever I bought in the spring, and the chocolate chips were not for eating.

Well, they were.  Sort of.

Last week Kristin posted a microwave recipe for peanut butter cups, and I wanted to try them.  So, I did the logical thing.  I printed the recipe and glued it in my Writer's Notebook, then saved a digital copy just in case.  It was in that moment that I realized I am officially one step closer to adulthood.

I don't cook.  Ok, I can make a coveted cheese dip.  That's about it.  Until now.  Now I can make peanut butter cups, too.  What more does a person need, right?

<>< Katie

PS: If you're going to try the recipe, don't cut the muffin papers in half (at least I didn't) and let them thaw between the second cooling and eating or be prepared for a little someone (aka my roommate Jennifer) to make a mess of peanut butter.

Can or Can't?

It has been a week of "can" and "can't."

I can finish all of these papers on time.
I can't finish all of these papers on time.

I can find time to go to the store.
I can't find time to go to the store.

I can breathe.
I can't breathe.

I can go to bed.
I can't go to bed.

You get the point.

On Tuesday, Neal asked us to think about the messages we are receiving. What messages are coming from God and what messages are coming from Satan?

Katie: You're the one telling me I can.  He's telling me I can't.
God: That was backwards.
Katie: No, it wasn't.  Satan's tearing me down; You're building me up.
God: Katie, you can't.  But I can.

Just in case you forgot: you can't, but God can.  Take a deep breath as you remember that this week.

<>< Katie

The War is Over

Thankful for the three layers under her red winter jacket, she sits in a rocking chair on the front porch. The cars cruise down the highway, most of them obliviously to her obscure location.

Wishing she'd opted for the hot chocolate instead, she attempts to maneuver her gloved hand around the spoon in her McFlurry. Her dinner, a Taco Bell Chulupa with chicken, sits in her lap forgotten. Not unlike she is.

"You want to let me in?" she calls on her cell phone.

"Oh... uh... shoot... well... see... uh... um... we're still at the grocery store," explains the voice on the other end. "We're on our way back," he lies.

The clock tower lets out a chime. It's 5:45. According to the invitation, the Superbowl party in the boys' dorm started fifteen minutes earlier. For the first time in her life, she's glad she didn't arrive on time.

The ice cream in her cup does not threaten to melt, but she's slowly losing feeling in her fingers as she touches the plastic spoon to her lips.

"He begged me to come," she said aloud to herself, remembering the pleading facebook messages asking her to ditch the Superbowl party in her apartment to attend his. Now he's failed to arrive at his own party and left her sitting in the cold.

Ten minutes later, the ice cream is gone; she is still waiting. Suddenly, the door behind her pops open revealing the morgue turned boy's dorm as her party host bursts out into the chilling winter night. She glances at her watch and starts up at him.

"We have chips," he says with a sly smile.

Of course, chips make her frost bite worthwhile because now instead of begging for mercy, he'll beg for grace, and he'll want it in the form of cheese chip dip. Yet she'll give it. If only in the name of forgiveness and familial love.
-------
Dear Mr. Kevin Kassakatis,
I was not going to update my blog twice today. However, your tasteless, rude behavior this evening left me no choice. I have considered this your forfeiting the war and will being my victory dance as soon as I thaw.
Kind regards,
<>< Katie Ax
PS: But I still love you.

Magnificent Microwave Meals

This morning, I hadn't even put in my contacts yet when my roommates started sassing me. "Have you blogged yet today?" "PLEASE blog about last night!" "Katie, you're such a slacker blogger!" "Tell your eleven readers what we did last night!" They just like to see their times in print. Sorry to disappoint, ladies, but I am not going to explain how we managed to "seat" eight people on the futon... in three different positions. Enjoy the photo saga on facebook instead because words cannot do justice to the laughter that filled our apartment around 1am this morning.

Since school was closed today no one really wanted to eat in the cafeteria. We knew we'd be on day number four of whatever they could scrounge up from the back room and the pickings from that back room were getting grim on day two! Breakfast/lunch is typically one meal for us and can be made in the apartment thanks to our random supply of items.

Dinner, on the other hand, is more of a challenge since we don't have an oven/stove. Gourmet microwave meals only go so far. Either way, we needed to face the "icy roads" on the mile and a half trek to the grocery store. The problem is that none of the girls in our apartment who (a) drive and (b) have a car felt comfortable making this treacherous voyage. They called upstairs for one of the guys to take us to the store. It was around that time that I announced I wasn't going; Elizabeth felt my participation in this escapade was not optional.

Then why are we finding a driver? Even though I don't enjoy driving, I was well over-qualified for this dangerous excursion on dry roads.

"Get in the car, girls," I said and was expecting a repeat from the other night. Lucky for me, the only useless question was, "Which car is yours?" Clearly the one with out-of-state plates and no snow on it because I'm the only one with a real snowscraper. Pray for me in this foreign country...

Our spontaneous dinner plans turned from microwave lasagna to raw hamburgers in .7 seconds. Our apartment is going to smell like grille forever! However, I accept that because we had a wonderful time making hamburgers, chip dip, macaroni and cheese, and cookies all without a stove! That takes skill.

"This tastes like a homecooked meal," someone remarked.
Correction: This IS a homecooked meal.

Sitting on the floor with real plates on our laps, we thanked God and each other for this meal. Every single one of us was vital in the creation of our dinner. I braved the weather and drove to the store. Adam and Allyson cooked burgers. Nikki found us a George Forman (shhh! Don't tell!). Ryan provided real plates. Amy found the ketchup, and Elizabeth used her mad skills to make Mac & Cheese. No one of us could take the credit for our meal. It was a group effort.

Just like every one of us had a unique role in tonight's dinner, we each have our unique part in the Body of Christ. In Romans 12, Paul outlines this idea when he writes,

3 For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. 4 Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, 5 so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. 6 We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man's gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. 7 If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; 8 if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully.

Well done, ladies! (And gentlemen).

<>< Katie
PS: It has also come to my attention that Mr. Kassakatis has been spewing cruel words regarding my blog. This harsh criticism will not be taken personally for I realize Mr. Kassakatis is merely jealous that he cannot communicate as well as I do. I am truly sorry. (not so much).