Food, food, food!

Lately the food in the dining halls has been less than satisfactory. A girl can only eat so many roast beef sandwiches, curly fries, and canned fruit before she starts to wish she had her own little kitchen. 

So today I had a little fun imagining what I would put in my kitchen if I ever get my own place to live. Here's what I came up with: 

Grapefruit halves with sugar

Chicken and cheese quesadillas with a little fresh pico de gallo

Eggs and toasted cheesy bread

Grilled basil, tomato, and mozzarella sandwiches

Grilled PB&J

Pesto with tomatoes and mushrooms

Dark chocolate

Red wine

Frozen yogurt with berries and white chocolate chips

Granola

Fresh fruit, toast with honey, and hard boiled eggs

Salt and Vinegar chips

Key Lime Cheesecake

Toasted tortillas and guacamole

Crepes, strawberry cream cheese, and strawberries

Fresh French bread and sweet butter

It's just fun to think what I'll someday be able to stock in my own kitchen :) I've also been having some fun with Pinterest, a website that features pictures of everything and anything that you can share with your followers. In the theme of 'having my own place,' here's some of my inspirations:

I want a big, pretty garden with little twinkling lights someday. 

Tea lights - a pretty and easy craft

Look at this bathroom. Seriously, I'm in love - that bathtub is so nice.

These are beautiful colors - gold and rose and white. This is how I imagine posh Italian homes to be. 

Sometimes it's just fun to not worry about reality.

Have a great week!

Women of Legend

Bethany Joy Galeotti posted this on her blog today, and I really loved it. It's a poem she wrote herself, and I took to it because I like writing that portrays women as having strength and independence. It reminded me of the Nanci Griffith song "Women of the Phoenix." I've posted them both here so you can read Joy's poem and listen to Nanci's song. 

Women of Legend

O my child, the heart is a perilous thing.
The heart crowns all paradoxes of God;
     made of muscle and steel and fire, but frail as the sparrow's wing.

Women of Legend are not born-- they are grown
     out of spit and dirt and fire and sweat;
     they are not a glamorous flock.

They have grease underneath their fingernails
         and wrinkles around their eyes.
They have bruises from too-hard pounding upon their breasts.
They have lines from laughter and their feet are callused
         from barefooted adventures and sojourns.

Women of Legend are grown out of the spit and dirt and fire and sweat;
their significance is secured in their steadfast response
          to unimaginable pain.

Happy Friday!