We spent the entire afternoon at the college getting registered for the fall. Piglet has signed up for the hardest load of classes I have ever seen a freshman take. Biology, Western Civilizations, English Comp 1, Spanish, and Intermediate Algebra. What is worse, she signed up for classes back to back with 10 minutes between class, wham wham wham!
Then she was upset with me, for being very vocal about her being totally nuts to schedule herself like that. For Pete's sake I may be the only person who ever went to a junior college for 6 stinkin years; it's true, I am ashamed. What can I say? I never could make up my mind what to do and everything was so interesting. I just kept signing up for classes. I did get a Liberal Arts degree, which did save my royal bo hiney when I finally, in my late 30's, decided to get my nursing degree.
I could've been a doctor with a little encouragement, I certainly went to school for long enough.
But I do digress! The point is, Piglet doesn't think I know anything about college. I am scared to death she is going to sizzle and burn with a schedule like that. BUT she is going to have to learn this one on her own. She doesn't want to listen to me, the professional student. My Uncle used to greet me with the same three words, "GET A JOB!" Who wants to work when life can be so fun in college? It really wasn't hard, read a little, write a little, how tough is that? But this HOME schooled, kid who has never known sleep deprivation; has signed up for 5, count them FIVE, hard core,no nonsense classes; without even a break in between.
I am definitely going to have to spend this fall on my knees prayin.
After we had this panic filled afternoon of registering for a buster of a first semester, I was ravenous. Was it panic? One bowl of Raisin Bran had long since disappeared. We were right by the Fresh Market, our fancy new, very expensive store. NEVER go shopping in an expensive, trendy food market, with a hungry, ravenous, foodie. NEVER!
It was a sin. We spent $50 real bucks, on a couple of bags of nibbles, a sandwich, and our choice of deserts, one each. I couldn't believe it. Really we could've gone out to lunch at some great Italian restaurant for that. But it gets worse, really it does, because my desert was an absolute bomb. I chose a Napoleon. does anyone out there KNOW how to make a good Napoleon? I should've known better. The granddaughter of real Danish immigrant bakers; born and raised on the finest pastry. This thing that I actually paid two dollars for, was so tough you needed a knife to cut it. In between the tough dough was nothing but whipped cream, topped with frosting made with shortening,,,,,arghhhhh hideous. To be a good granddaughter I put it in the trash. It would be a sin to eat it. I tell you the truth, they should be ashamed to sell something that nasty. From my memory, my childhood memory, I can tell you what should be in a Napoleon. First of all, the pastry should be crispy and tender, flaky and fall apart with a fork. There is a layer of custard, homemade of course, and a layer of raspberry seedless jam. Layers of whipped cream are in ADDITION to these other lovely delights. The top is a deep dark chocolate granache of the finest bittersweet chocolate and thinly applied not to overwhelm and drown out the other flavors. It is a work of art, a delight to the palate, it is magical. This thing that I purchased was no such thing, not even close, which is why, even though it was whipped cream it went into the trash. A sin, a sin, not to even know what a good pastry is. Maybe I'll have to try and make one.