30 Apples and Some Pie; my love for Johnny Appleseed

Morgan–we went apple picking again! I hope you have also had the opportunity to get some yummy Minnesota apples as well. Fall seems to have arrived here. We are keeping a list of notable “cold” dates on a white board in our dorm. Check it: “September 22nd–I could see my breath last night.” RIDIC.

So, we each got a peck, or about 30, apples, which means there’s almost a hundred apples between the three of us. I’m psyched to a) eat them, and b) do cool things with them (we know a guy with a dehydrator. Can you say apple chips?) We also got some PIE at the orchard which was…indescribably delicious.

Fall and apples seems so two and two (or is it hand in hand? eh), and apples just seem…quintessentially American. So, so versatile–apple pie, apple turnover, apple sauce, apple donuts, apple cider, apple apple apple–and hardy, like potatoes. Heck, when Bubba listed all the sorts of things one could make from shrimp he might as well have been listing all the things one can make out of apples. Same deal.

Mo have you ever seen the cartoon of Johnny Appleseed? It’s precious. Check it out:

A) Johnny has some sick apple juggling skills, and B) he didn’t even FLINCH when that swarm of bees came and ate his apple. Cray. (Part duo of this post: the history of Johnny Appleseed? Because…WHAT.a.cool.dude.)

Alright, nada mas. I’ve got to get up early because I want to harvest on the farm here, ergo, sleep is calling. Hope you’re well. Love,

Drew

P.S. I BOUGHT A BIKE.

I’m in the process of naming him (how do I know he’s a him? Well, Charlotte–one of my roommies–and I both bought bikes from this older couple who refurbishes worn-down bikes, and they said the bike I bought, and the bike Charlotte bought, belonged to their neighbors, a husband and wife, and mine was the husband’s (Charlotte’s, the wife’s, is decked out with a more comfy seat and a light. Alas. And yet, I have the rack on the back! Whattup gender roles.))

Thoughts on a name? B-storm it. Note: our hot-water kettle (NOT hot pot…as I thought it was called. who knows what a hot pot is.) is already named Gustaf, so uh, that’s taken.

“So how ’bout that weather?” Oh dear, orientation

It strikes me as so funny, sometimes, just how uncomfortable college orientation is. And it’s funny, because it’s not as if some folks don’t feel awkward. Everyone feels AWKWARD. No one knows where anything is; no one wants to go to the uncomfortable, scheduled activities, but no one has anything to do in their free time; no one can remember the name of the person they just met. And you really only have one option: to ENDURE the awkwardness, by whatever means possible (including using the weather as a topic of conversation).

Looking for solace on the internet (as often do…), I came across this article that I particularly liked about freshman orientation. As the writer put it nicely, “Here’s the thing about orientation: it throws one into a very unfamiliar setting filled with that proverbial Awkward and thus forces one to seek out a method of survival, regardless of pride or self-esteem issues.”

And so much of that “survival” I think is just remembering that

a) no one knows anyone, and they want to meet you as badly as you want to meet them. (so, while I would never randomly introduce myself to the person walking beside me in the “real” world, it seems a relatively normal thing to do during orientation).

and

b) it’s OK to feel uncomfortable, out-of-place, lonely, disconnected, confused, bored, tired, etc.

Morgan, thoughts? What about your pre-orientation program–was regular orientation easier after that? (By the way, thanks for the voice message. Mah, I owe you a phone call!)

And lastly, while I was googling awkward things, I found this great website…http://thatawkwardmoment.net/page/2…I’ve posted a couple of my favorite below.

That awkward moment when your nanny turns out to be your ex husband disguised as 60-year-old British caretaker.

That awkward moment when you say goodbye to someone and both walk the same way

That awkward moment when you walk onstage to accept the male model of the year award and realize Hansel won.

That awkward moment when you can’t stop laughing while telling a joke and when you are finally done, your friends doesn’t even get it.

All for now, Drew