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Going home for Thanksgiving tonight. I'm actually fairly excited--I'll get a chance to help out with all the cooking this year, and I like cooking, and I won't have to actually eat all of it. (I've decided that I actually like cooking more than I like eating. Eating is mostly fairly boring. Cooking involves a lot of reassuringly repetitive movement like chopping and also gives me the opportunity to hover about the kitchen.)

Also, Professor Linguistics? I appreciate that you think that historical linguistics is a waste of time. Please stop ranting about it. I'm not a languages person, I could care less about phonetics, but I am doing work on population genetics. That means that given historical linguistics' interesting parallels to evolutionary biology, that's the subject I'd most like to focus on. I can deal with your ignoring it altogether in favor of different aspects of the subject, but if you could stop pissing on it for five minutes that would be awesome.
sciatrix: (Default)
Domesticity domesticity domesticity aaarrgh. I want a huge teapot and a stove kettle and a little kitchen I can putter around in so badly I can smell it. And tasty foodstuffs and routine and soup with barley and veggies in and waaah why can't I just move now? I suspect I'm being too overenthusiastic about this move, but hell, it can't be worse than the dorms.

Also, coming out as a godless filthy liberal at Gramma's came out better than I would have thought. Could have done with it not just being me, though. Maybe my cousin B and I do have something in common after all.

Now if I can just manage not to fail Biochemistry this semester and beat my filthy grades into submission...
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There are very few things more relaxing than wandering through the home of my grandmother, clutching a mug of tea, and waiting quietly to leave for a museum. It's made especially wonderful by the fact that I spent some time here during practically all major holidays until I turned eleven; this house speaks to me of family, of Christmas presents and Easter egg hunts and the traditional game of Everyone Tackle Uncle M Until He Falls Over.

This trip keeps making me miss all sorts of things about living near DC. Family. Touches of nostalgia. Really freaking cool things in the Smithsonian. Who knows, maybe I'll apply around here for graduate school. Or closer to here, anyway; perhaps I'll follow J to UVA. I do want to come back here for next break, though. With any luck, I'll get to drag J and L and C with me--assuming J doesn't drag me up here in her enthusiasm, anyway.

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