Mes Belles Lettres

I should be writing a paper right now, but I cannot. Partly because my research is frustrating me, and partly because one of my major pet peeves happened to me three times today and I need to vent about it. My name, my real name in case you didn't know, is Lindsey. L-I-N-D-S-E-Y. I know there are thirteen million variations out there on the spelling of that name, but seriously, when someone emails you, and signs their name, is it really so hard to spell it correctly when you respond to their email? When I was in high school I received an award from my French class, and my name was spelled really really ridiculously wrong. I received this award from the French teacher I had had for the last three years. That means she saw my name Monday through Friday when taking attendance. She saw it written on my papers and tests. She saw it when she wrote my score down in her gradebook every time she graded one of those papers and tests. FOR THREE YEARS. And yet, the spelling on my award w...

I flew into Salt Lake City Friday night and was picked up by Shirley who drove me down to my sister's apartment in Provo. Once there I finally met her fiance in person. Saturday morning we all got up to pull together the bridal shower that Shirley, Jenna, and myself were throwing for her. It was a successful event, save for one terrible tragedy. My macarons did not turn out. It is rare that I experience a cooking or baking failure. Does that make me sound prideful? Sorry, but it's true, I make good stuff. I'm good at it and I like it. This was not one of those times. See, my sister has a roommate with a Kitchenaid, and I plugged that sucker in, so happy and excited that I was going to get to use it. Unfortunately, The whisk attachment does not reach the bottom of the bowl. I didn't realize this until I had whipped my egg whites to a bubble bath consistency, had added my sugar and whipped until it looked like a glossy shaving cream, and dumped in the almond powdere...

I baked a good baked good this week. Wasn't that sentence very Pushing Daisies? Anyway, in France, they have these little cookies called macarons. They are deliciousness encapsulated in happiness and joy. I am going to Utah tomorrow and throwing my sister a bridal shower. We decided we wanted to do kind of a pink theme with the food, as her colors are pink and black (which is kind of weird since my sister doesn't like pink... but whatever.) Searching the web for recipe ideas I came across a tutorial for how to make French macarons from Tartlette.  Since the woman that writes that blog is French I decided she could be trusted. So, my reaction to seeing a macaron recipe, a legitimate French macaron recipe was this: " I MUST MAKE THESE!!!" I didn't want my sister's shower to be the first time, because as she warns, macarons can be a finicky creature. I needed to make sure I could at least make something edible before her party. On Saturday I separated...

Forgive me, this post is coming from a dark place. Three days ago my internet decided to change it's signal status from good, to low, which is basically the equivalent of being placed in a torture chamber. Since I just use the school's internet in my apartment, there isn't much I can do to rectify the situation, except walk across the street to sit in the library. This puts me in a bad mood, I should be able to file my taxes and watch the training videos for the state bar application and the MPRE lecture from the comfort of my own home! I don't want to go to the library. I recognize that this is a first world problem, but it is exacerbated by the fact that I was sick this week (starting around the time the internet decided it hated me) and apparently people can't be bothered to call and tell me they no longer need a ride to Boston, they wait until I have gotten up early and wait for them to arrive at my apartment at 7:30 in the AM, only they aren't there. ...