| My grandmother’s unmistakable cursive |

While arduously packing the contents of my kitchen (to include 11 canisters of various gluten-free flours and enough bags of chocolate chips to last for a lifetime), I came across a handwritten recipe tucked away in the pages of a cookbook whose binding I haven’t cracked in ages.  My breath was taken away when I spotted the note, which subsequently led to sitting on the floor and tearfully reading through the list of ingredients line by line.  I’ll admit, the notion of a mayonnaise cake didn’t sound the most appetizing at first blush, but after searching online for reassuring photos (like here and here), I’m eager to try my hand at replicating her very special birthday recipe this July.

My day was largely defined by little annoyances — enduring a particular classmate who routinely asks inane questions just to hear herself speak, being caught umbrella-less in a monsoon/thunderstorm on my walk home from dinner and overconfidently misjudging my ability to carefully hand-wash a cherished wine glass (chalk this up to the third I’ve shattered since Thanksgiving).  Needless to say, I doubt that any semblance of a smile even crossed my face once all evening.  That is, until I opened a sweet card from my beau reminding me that all will be right again with the world in two short weeks (he arrives late-night on May 1st).  I love when the most unexpected gestures arrive at the most needed times.

Quinoa is a staple in my kitchen.  I serve it embarrassingly often since it’s incredibly versatile and easy to toss together as either a side dish or main meal.  While tonight’s quick bite didn’t follow a recipe per se (I opted instead to use up the remaining vegetables in my refrigerator), the spinach, sliced almonds and sweet potatoes tied together nicely with my homemade lemon vinaigrette.  And since I managed to make enough to feed a hungry party of five, I happily ensured leftovers for the remainder of the week.

A quiet and tearful evening run on the most solemn of days.

I’ve been quite the homebody lately, and while I always love the comforts of my apartment, nothing lifts my spirits like seeing blue skies for the first time in days.  I decided to celebrate with a walk along Michigan Avenue, complete with window shopping at nearly each boutique and finally enjoying the sight of pastel colors and springtime clothing.  After stopping by Crate & Barrel with a detailed list for our new place (extra bowls, martini glasses and a popcorn maker), I headed back home with an armful of fresh fruit to snack alongside while watching the Masters.  I hope you all had a great weekend.

I’m notoriously running out the door most mornings on an empty stomach.  Consequently, my lack of preparation leads to an unnecessary trip to Starbucks where the only option (black coffee) certainly fails to hold me over until lunch.  Luckily, my recent discovery of juicing — and the documentary, Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead– has single-handedly changed my diet regimen and overall outlook on food.  A few weeks back, I purchased this juicer from Bed, Bath and Beyond and find myself excitedly mixing concoctions like these and these on what seems like a daily basis.  My newfound toy has not only served as entertainment, but as a nice reminder to nix my bad habits and reprogram my breakfast routine.

If there’s one thing that can make studying for the MCAT palatable, it’s having my feet dipped in the deep end of our pool with every page turn.

I’ve been feeling a tad off all day.  Though I couldn’t manage to articulate exactly what was wrong, I just didn’t feel like myself.  During times like these, nothing sounds more alluring than curling up on the sofa and escaping my downtrodden mood with one of my all-time favorite love stories.  As this scene from The Notebook played across the screen, it became glaringly obvious that I simply needed a good, hard cry.

It never ceases to amaze me how a gloomy day can immediately atrophy my frame of mind.  This morning, I awoke from a sound sleep only to feel completely deflated when I caught the first glimpse of overcast skies and rain clouds rolling in.  As usual, the weather in Chicago is nothing shy of temperamental (though the rest of the country seems to be enjoying 70° days), which meant that leaving my thick blanket to attend class all the more challenging.  Yet, capturing our behemoth of a building amidst a massive cloud of fog made an otherwise ordinary photograph feel extra unique.

| My second comedy show in two days |

It’s not often that I come across a comedy show that’s not quite hitting the humor mark.  Unfortunately, tonight’s curtain at Second City was stage to some of the most bizarre sketches I’ve seen, including a few that made me cringe in utter distaste.  While wasn’t easy for me to leave only 18 minutes in, I finally convinced myself that not getting my full money’s worth paled in comparison to enduring jokes that made “suicide from the 96th floor of the John Hancock Building” the punchline.  Some topics will just never be funny in my book.