Monday, September 27, 2010

Cooking With the Animals

Cooking is a release. Some run. Some break things. I cook. I feel free to create and destroy at will. To invent, re-invent, un-invent, replicate, duplicate, or simply recreate. I am at home in my kitchen. I have had the fortune of acquiring a second home. I am taking SFL 110 (Food Preparation) as part of my sprint to graduation. There is a three hour lab associated with this class where my friend and I share Kitchen #6 as we work our culinary magic. Recently, there has been an intruder in our home.

There are 3 people assigned to Kitchen 6: Caitlin, myself, and the Sloth. The Sloth’s favorite pastimes include, but are not limited to: sitting in a chair in the middle of our kitchen, sharing our chocolate milk, eating our artistic masterpieces, and moving at the speed of an angry starfish. Today, I watched in awe as our dormant friend sat in a chair in front of the open oven with two hot pads in hand attempting to remove a casserole dish. His hands slowly neared each side of the hot dish, then, within inches of contact, they retreated to analyze the feeble attempt and approach from a different angle. I stared in disbelief as the steam pouring from my beautiful creation slowly disappeared. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Just as I was about to reach in with my bare hands to rescue my now frigid lunch, he made his final approach. His mitted hands cupped the dish inside the oven like the Asian lady at Wu’s Open Kitchen used to cup my face. An eternal grip accompanied by endless comments pertaining to my “cute, chubby” features. As my last tooth fell from my wrinkled face and I was nearing liver and renal failure, the Sloth began to move. He withdrew the food at such a glacial pace that I was certain I would never eat again. The sleeping giant placed a completely room temperature dish on a completely unnecessary cooling rack and began his journey to close the oven door.

The 5 hours that have passed since that class have felt as the blink of an eye in comparison to the twenty minutes spent watching a large snail undo what we had worked so hard to complete. There is a reason that animals do not cook there food. Were it not for the Sloth’s ability to purchase his meals, he would die of starvation before his attempt at cooking ever made it to his face. Were it not for 7 days of recuperation in between each cooking class, I would call the exterminator to remove the animal from my kitchen.


Friday, September 24, 2010

Super Senior

I have gone unnoticed for the last four years. I have grown comfortable as a statistic in the computer system and another nameless entity that picks Taco Bell over Choose 2 Give. Not anymore. I have been red flagged. BYU has finally realized that I have been here for too long. I have received e-mails about graduation and job fairs. I am bombarded with options for my future as if my future does not include another 4 years to complete my undergraduate work. I was recently notified that I almost have too many credits to qualify for financial aid.

In a desperate attempt to prove my importance to this university, I padded my schedule with a few classes that have been described as “Easy A.” An “A” in Beginning Guitar will surely show the current administration that I am a valuable asset to this institution. A passing grade in Beginning Tennis must mean something to somebody important. I am developing life skills. Sure, these are skills for the life of a senior citizen, but they cannot expect me to leave before completing a course in Golf or Floral Design. If my being here is preventing some poor high school senior from coming to the school of his choice, then why entice me to stay with classes like Food Preparation in the Home? As long as there is an “A” to be freely given, I will allow the Obama administration to pay my tuition so that I can receive it. With a Pell Grant in my pocket, I am proud to be that guest that refuses to leave the party until everyone else has gone home. I am proud to continue to hover over the wedding reception buffet even as tables and decorations are being removed. I am proud to walk into CafĂ© Rio 3 minutes before closing and slowly munch on my pork salad. I am proud to be a super senior
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