My Life In My House.

Dear Fleur.
I am writing my final essay. It's on cooking. I decided to go Julia Child on my teacher. I hope I can pull it off. He said I could. He actually said I would. But sometimes I doubt myself.
I was remembering the first time I made a baguette. It was with Kirsten. I was so proud. I think that's what made me want to do this essay. That, and I got to stay up till midnight the other night watching the old French Chef show and learning how to make souffles.
Does anyone know where to find the how to make a duck video she did?
I cannot find it.

Today I got a pink letter in the mail. I was so glad.
And my Daddy bought me a teacup this morning.
Good things have been happening to me.
I like it.

I am sitting in the kitchen, and there is a big branch in a milk jug in the sink. It's silly. Because there's yellow flowers blooming in my kitchen sink. And it's freezing in our house.

I kind of want to type out my latest story. But wouldn't that be procrastinating? Because I'm supposed to be writing my essay.
But all I really want to do is play with my typewriter.
The story has Russian words in it. Gah. I always liked Russian. I even named the boy Sven.

You know what I really want to do?
Get out my KitchenAid and try my hand at chocolate souffles in little porcelain ramekins.
Love Bella.

This is why I like my typewriter.

Dear Fleur.
I was determined to be totally and utterly happy all day today. And I did pretty good. I went to Church. I thought about Timothy in the Bible(more on him later). I didn't get upset when we were locked out of the house. I made valentines. I had chai tea. I wasn't angry when I forgot to take my meds. I listened to Death Cab For Cutie. I wanted to learn calligraphy. Even though my hands were cold, I lived and just ironed my hair. And then I did my homework.
That's when it all fell apart.
I'm not going to act like it was the end of the world--even though I was 15 minutes ago. I wrote a paper. And then I deleted it.
After that I hated WORD. Nat Sam told me I'm not allowed to use WORD anymore. Google.docs from here on out.
He's pretty much a genius, and he couldn't even find my paper.
So.
That kind of makes me a retard.
I wonder how you say "retard" in French?
Because I deleted my paper, and I knew I was doing it. But I didn't stop. Gah. David the retard girl who can't even work WORD.
I think I'll treat myself to vanilla ice cream and earl grey tea now. I don't know why I do these things.
Love Bells.