a change in the weather

Now Playing: "String Quartet" by Mark O'Connor.

Today was a blustery day, weather changing. Rachel went running this morning, but after the first couple days this week of running in the chilly morning, I haven't been feeling well again, so I opted not to go. I dressed, did my devotions, wrote e-mails, etc. At eight o'clock, Rachel and I went down to Nicole and Mary's room for prayer. Mary had to rush off for a physics quiz, so it was just Nicole, Rachel, and I. We prayed and read a portion of Psalm 119. After we'd read and discussed that section, I suggested that we sing it since it included Psalm 119M. Nicole didn't know what a Psalter was, so I pulled mine out and showed it to her. We sang Psalm 119M, and talked a little about Psalmody.

More e-mails after prayer time. Then I went to practice my flute. By the time I stepped outside, a thin rain was falling, tiny drops stinging on the strong south wind. I practiced for an hour, then hurried over to MAW. During class, we discussed writing techniques and the end of The Bondwoman's Narrative. Rain fell more heavily, spotting the south-facing windows with eyes of water.

After class, Rachel went off to meet with her mentee, a freshman girl she's supposed to be advising. I went to the cafeteria alone. To my delight, they had "real" tamales and chili for lunch today in the cafeteria--actual cornhusks on the tamales! Yay! But the tamales did have weird bits of peppers in them instead of just plain masa.

Anyhow, while I was eating, Kevin came and sat with me, and we spent forty-five minutes talking pleasantly. In a couple of weeks, Philip is going to come to campus to visit as a prospective student. Kevin has agreed to let Philip spend the night in his dorm room--in fact, Kevin was quite delighted with the prospect. We talked about music since the two of us have similar tastes. We're both huge fans of Mark O'Connor, Yo-Yo Ma, and that whole rogues' gallery of bluegrass/Classical people, though Kevin says he doesn't know anyone who listens to soundtracks as much as I do. We also talked about plans for the summer and the years ahead.

After lunch, I ran back to Lottie through the rain. As I scurried down the sidewalk, the sun glanced briefly through the clouds, turning the rain into shining glass. I spent an hour working on my Honors paper about a scene from "Othello", then walked over to the apartment to meet Syneva. At the apartment, I only found Rachael home. We sat and talked, a bit stiffly, until Syneva arrived, lugging her cello on her back and twirling her umbrella overhead. Rachael retreated to her room. "How would you like to make banana bread?" Syneva asked, "Today just seems like a banana-bread sort of day." I was quite happy with the idea.

So the two of us busied ourselves in the kitchen for half-an-hour. While Syneva peeled the skin off the frozen bananas, I mixed flour, salt, and baking soda in one bowl, and brown sugar and butter in another bowl. I was supposed to "cream" the butter, but the blender just splattered little chunks of butter and brown sugar all over the place. As we worked, we caught up on each other's week. Syneva described the bluegrass festival in Woodward that she and her family went to last weekend. Apparently, bluegrass is associated with hippies and hillbillies: Syneva told me ridiculous stories about bluegrass artists who sing Universalist songs about how good life is, appropriating the Bible to their whacked theology, and about the crowds at the concerts who sport peace symbols on their socks and wave their hands like Pentecostals during the music. She told me about one young band, composed of a mandolinist, a guitarist, and a fiddler, that had a Nickel Creek sound. She and her family bought one of their CDs.

After the batter was mixed, Syneva poured most of it into a large loaf pan, but she scooped a bit of it into a tiny loaf pan--a pan just large enough to be the right size for an American Girl doll toy. I washed the dishes, and Syneva put them away. While the bread baked, we sat on the saggy sofa and talked. A cool breeze blew through the half-open windows. Syneva asked about poetry class and about study abroad plans. On both counts she suggested Matt and Amanda as people to go to for counsel.

Slowly, the delicious, brown-buttery smell of the bread started to seep from the oven. Syneva took out my little loaf first and poked it gingerly to see if it was done. She let it cool for awhile before she wrapped it in foil.

When the bread was ready, I pulled myself together. We said good-bye, with mutual wishes for a good afternoon. I walked back to Lottie.

I spent the afternoon studying. At six o'clock, I walked to the cafeteria for supper to meet Tara and Rachel. To my surprise, Jenny S., Kathryn, and Nicole showed up, too. While they were waiting in line for food, I found a table and sat down. As I sat there alone, a husky chap with bristly sideburns and a square, brown face came up and asked, "May I sit here?" "Sure," I said, somewhat doubtfully. We recognized each other since both of us go to RUF. He turned out to be Bob (oh, dear, girls, I can't hear or say that name without thinking of our DLF :o), Kevin's roommate, a freshman mechanical engineering major.

We spent the meal with a cheerful, disjointed conversation that bounced back and forth from Jenny complaining about how disgusting the caf hamburgers are, to Tara talking about singing in Jazz class, to Rachel describing the "cruel and unusual" amount of economics homework she has, to Bob politely answering a question about his hometown, to Nicole and Kathryn telling us about their days' work. Eventually, people went off about their own business, leaving Rachel, Nicole, and me sitting together. Nicole made dessert for herself (cake topped with hot fudge), and the three of us argued humorously whether it would be appetizing to eat the fudge on its own, or whether it required "substance" to go with it. As we walked back to Lottie together, all three of us paused to watch the glorious panoply of the sky. To the north, a huge white tower of cloud, like the spire of Minas Tirith, flashed white against the blue sky. To the southwest, a bank of low, fast-moving dark clouds was blowing in, casting shadows across the sun. Dust hanging in the air rippled ochre, saffron, and sandstone-pink over the western horizon. Nicole exclaimed, "It reminds me of 'The Ten Commandments'!", and then had to explain this movie reference to us two un-movie-literates.

Rachel and I spent the whole evening studying, a grand total of three-and-a-half hours. At first, it was somewhat difficult to focus. The scene through the western windows was to gorgeous, powerful, and swiftly-changing, much more interesting than my dull music theory exam tomorrow, or the paper we have to write for MAW about Herman Melville. Low clouds raced across the sun, rippling like the shadows of a shoal of manta rays seen from deep underwater. Jenny, Tara, and the RUF flag football team was playing a game on the intramural field, too.

As the evening went on, the sun set quickly. Rain blew up, flashing under the streetlights, and lightning flickered briefly. Now the dry south wind blows straight down the street, hissing against the corners of the windows. I worked on music theory, Honors, and my paper for MAW. Rachel brewed tea for the two of us--a richly fruity green tea. My rosebush put out a faint, delicate smell from its constellation of flowers where it stood valiantly on the broad windowsill, and the basil and sage my mother put in the bouquet last Sabbath reminded me of the garden in the afternoon at home.

I washed my rosebush with soap and water to get rid of the spider mites that have been plaguing it. Rachel went out to print things at the library and to call her family. I've been sitting and typing here for too long now. It's high time for bed.