This week, we celebrated Pancake Day! Basically, on the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday (when Lent and fasting begin), the UK celebrates Shrove Tuesday, or Pancake Day, by devouring a ton of pancakes with lots of crazy toppings. Seems contrary to prepare for fasting by pancake-bingeing, but who am I to argue with a holiday that involves chocolate pancakes? Apparently, this tradition started about 1000 years ago when folks decided that fasting season should be kicked off with a massive party where people ate at much fatty food as possible. Mardi Gras or 'Fat Tuesday" has the same origin - crazy right? My College advertised this event as a chance (no joke) for "all of us to eat ourselves stupid", so all the dorms got together to cook the traditional pancakes. We flipped some nutella-loaded pancakes and covered them with toppings both sweet and savory -- we're talking everything from berries and cream to onions and meat. I'll take a meat pancake for dinner any day. Good stuff. I plan on celebrating Pancake Day in the States -- I predict it will be a hit. Americans love celebrations involving food.
Also this week, I had another sculpting class! Unlike the last class where we sculpted a whole person (remember my little naked lady sculpture?), in this class we sculpted busts. We once again had a live model, and despite the fact that this time, she was fully clothed, I again had a tough time staring at her. I was always taught that was impolite -- old habits die hard. So, my lady bust might have suffered. In fact, I may have unknowingly compensated for the lack of staring by using my own likeness to sculpt the face, as my teacher walked up to my bust and said: 'you know, the first time people sculpt heads, they tend to sculpt themselves.' Now, I took this as a compliment (as I don't think I'm totally unfortunate looking), until she said, about a minute later: 'You know, it's interesting -- your bust looks like a man.'
Here's a pic of me sculpting my man-lady.
The compliments from Sue, my teacher, didn't stop there though. She was on fire that day. The next memorable comment/constructive criticism was: "She (or He, not sure at this point) looks good from the back." Since I had spent 99% of my time focusing on the face, and hadn't touched the back of the head (which, btw, had started to sag from the weight of the extra-large hair bun I gave Lady Bust to eliminate any doubt as to her femininity), you can see how this might be disconcerting.
Needless to say, I breathlessly await Lady Bust's arrival post-firing, as I'm sure she/he looks way better than I remember from Sue's comments. All joking aside though, I do have to tell you Sue's final comment at the end of class, when she was gazing at Lady-Man Bust before stuffing her in the transport box: "You're wasted on the law." She really thinks this kid has talent. That really meant something. She can call Lady Bust a man anyday.
That day was full of art for me (despite the fact that I had a 3,000 word essay due the next day that was about, oh, 20 words of the way there), as I also went to a mosaic making class! I was in heaven. I mosaic-ed (still not sure of proper terminology here, clearly) a mirror with bright-colored tiles. I thought it was very pretty, and my instructor did to (you see a theme here?) She said I had natural talent for this and 'quite the eye for color.' Don't worry though, my head isn't getting too big. As soon as I got home with it to proudly display the artistic genius to Will, he deflated my big head by asking if I got it from the kid's craft fair. (Due to that little quip, I didn't feel bad when our flatmate later asked him if he cut his own hair.)
I biked home carrying the mosaic (I mean, 'artistic genius') in one hand, while (shockingly!) it was raining, so my art was soaked by the time I got home. When the glue started to weaken and chunks of tile started to slide, I panicked and got the hair drier out. I know, I'm dedicated to my craft, be it kid's-craft-fair mosaics or Lady-Man Busts.
Later that night, I went to a formal dinner at Linacre, where I discovered what my 'third' would be in my series of 'bad' things to happen that day.
#1 was in the morning when I went to button the last button on my coat and all the buttons popped off. I think it was God's way of telling me to lay off the pancakes.
#2 was in the afternoon during mosaic-ing, when I was deep in (artistic genius) thought and raised what I thought was my panini to my mouth only to discover I raised the hand with the gluestick instead. When I saw the look of horror on the girl's face across from me as I was about to chomp into glue, I realized my error and tried to pretend I was sniffing it instead. In retrospect, I'm not sure which was worse. That's so genius-y, eh?
#3 was at the dinner when I bit into a what I thought was a big chunk of brie only to discover that it was in fact butter. In one bite, I consumed my caloric intake for the day. I think it would have been healthier to eat the glue.
Finally, we capped off the week with a trip to London with the Rotary Club. They took us on a fantastic walking tour around the city (through which I walked off my butter-eating calories) and we just fell in love with the city.
'Look kids, Big Ben!'
The Snyders do London.
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