35%

Thursday was turning out to be a very lame day. For those of you not living in Utah, you might not be aware that the Beehive State has yet to realize that Spring should be almost over and summer should be knocking at the door. For example, the high today was 50 degrees and its rainy and cold. Add to that other life disappointments, giving Thursday the thumbs down. Ryan and I decided that our family should take a brisk stroll in the cold down to the grocery store.

We bought some donut holes, I bought some buttermilk for a killer chocolate cake recipe. As we were leaving the supermarket, Ryan spotted President Henry B. Eyring, an apostle of the Lord. He is much taller than he appears in his broadcast talks. Well, having my entire family with me, I summoned courage, said hello, and asked him if he would shake the hands of my family members. When he got to Preston, who is actually about half an inch shorter than me, I told him of Preston's plans to receive the Priesthood on his twelfth birthday. He told Preston congratulations. It was a very short and sweet conversation, a lovely unexpected tender mercy on what was otherwise, a fairly lousy day.

As we walked away from President Eyering back up the hill to our home, Ryan turned to me and said, "Well, I think that my testimony just increased by 35%." I Said "Wow, I wonder what would have happened if we had just met the prophet." I guess these occasional chance encounters are just one of the perks of living in Utah.

Gourmet Nausea

Tonight I am suffering from a severe case of Gourmet Nausea, self diagnosed. This evening, in downtown Salt Lake City, I tasted delicacies from about 20 posh, trendy, expensive, gourmet restaurants. In an event known to the world as "Tastemakers Salt Lake City," a herd of downtown restaurants conspired to tempt the public into becoming more frequent consumers. The plan? For a very low price, let consumers taste test a gourmet tidbit from several downtown restaurants. We were given a map, a wrist band to prove we paid the fee, and a description of what each restaurant would offer to the participants. It was the perfect combination of eating a little, then walking a bit, eating a little, and walking a bit. The eating a little eventually turned into a massively bloated stomach, way too much food! But every calorie was worth it! As if that doesn't sound fun enough, my brother and sister in law (Ashlee and Collin) and my spouse joined me for the feast! My favorite was the Blue Lemon appetizer, a filet of Salmon on a made from scratch roll, bacon, and other yummies that convinced me I need to patron that restaurant again. I feel tired from the walking, and nauseous from all the food. But if I do have to bow to the porcelain God, I know that what comes up won't be regular puke, it will be gourmet vomit!

Wow!

For mothers day my wonderful family made me breakfast in bed. Delicious pancakes, real maple syrup and fresh blueberries. No drink but I'm not really a beverage kind of gal. While I ate my meal as I sat cozy in my sheets, my littles brought their home-made gifts to me. Preston gave me a fancy craft flower pen, Simon made me a little paper flower pot with several paper flowers. On the stem of each flower was a chore he would do for me. Annie drew me a picture of our family on needle point cloth, and Owen drew me a frame for a picture, but didn't want to draw anything inside the frame.

As for Calvin, he approached Ryan in a panic just outside my bedroom. He held up the key chain with beads he had made for me and said "Dad, I think I messed Mom's keychain up. It's supposed to say "Mom" but it just says "Wow". What am I going to do?"

Ryan gently told him to flip it over. I love my children. Mother's day really was happy. Much love to my own Mother and the Mother of my husband, all the way back to Eve. What a blessed woman I am!

Great News!

Yesterday was bring your grandparent to school day for my first grader, Simon. Nanas and Papas were to show up about an hour before school ended, and spend some quality time with their grandkid. It just so happens that I volunteer down at the school on Tuesday mornings. When I stepped into Simon's class, he ran up to me and gave me a huge hug, and said "Mom, I have some great news! Teacher told me that since I don't have any grandparents in town, you can come this afternoon."

My poor, sweet Simon, who sees his boring mother every day of the year, was genuinely excited that I could be a grandparent substitute. That little boy is a glass is half full kind of a guy, and I know it will serve him well for the rest of his life. I bet all of the real grandparents in his class thought I had undergone some surgery to turn back the clock. I was hands down the youngest looking grandparent in the bunch.

255 Days

Exactly 254 days ago, my family went on a cruise of a lifetime to the Western Caribbean. The food was amazing, and the company was even better. All of my siblings and their spouses surprised my Mom for her 60th birthday (my dad was in on the secret, a secret that was a year in the making.) All of our children were farmed out to their grandparents, and I hope one day to ship my kids off to Nana's and Papa's for the Smith family cruise, but we shall see...

Any-who, the day before we met in Florida I went to the beauty shop with my wonderful sister in law, where my mother in law treated us to pedicures. Mine was a lovely lime green with random black and silver accents. Our beautician sort of did what felt natural, which turned out slightly odd, but still beach worthy.

I have made a conscious effort for the last 255 days not to touch my toenails. FIrst of all, seeing the lovely shade of green brought back wonderful memories of a magical vacation. And second of all, I was simply curious to see if the polish would chip off first or grow out. Lucky for me, it has indeed grown out. I have barely a sliver left on my big right toe. What a cruise! What a pedicure! What a worthy scientific experiment!

Seeing Kangaroo

We had a Sunday miracle today, we actually arrived 20 minutes early for church. It was so nice to casually enter the building, set up my classroom for the lesson I would be teaching later (incidentally it was about temples, and it went well) and find the perfect pew for the crew. Being the first ones to sit down in the chapel means that you have time to watch everyone else arrive to church.

A few minutes before the services started, a lady walked in with her seeing eye dog, and her husband. Owen was on my lap and was facing the other way when this small family entered and she sat down before he saw them. They sat across the way from us, a few rows ahead and the dog's leg and tail were all that could be seen from where we sat. Owen turns to the animal and points, while asking me why there is a kangaroo in church. I tell him that its a dog. He's not so convinced and asks again "What is that dog kangaroo doing in church." I repeat, it's just a dog, and helps the lady to see, making sure that she doesn't go into the street when it is busy, or walk into a pole.

At this point, church is about to start and the woman, apparently having excellent hearing comments that if she actually did have a seeing eye kangaroo, she would get quite a good workout everyday. Maybe Owen is onto what could be the latest exercise trend among the blind.

Cream Cheese Cheating

According to an urban legend, cream cheese was invented by an American who who was actually attempting to make neufchatel cheese, a cheese common to Transylvania. When the attempt failed and produced cream cheese, I believe the American promptly abandoned all attempts to recreate the foreign cheese. He probably made a bagel, toasted it with butter, and then slathered it with flavored cream cheese. I know I would have.

I am proud to be a part of the wildly successful and totally fun neighborhood cooking club, known to the world as "Iron Chef Bountiful." The club is a cooking competition group and is open to all women in our neck of the woods. The hostess chooses the theme ingredient. The women show up with a dish, making sure not to tell anyone what they made, pick a number and give their culinary creation a title. We then say a blessing on the food, and pig out. When we are so full we think that we might explode, we vote on the entries. The top three chefs get to have the gold, silver, or bronze trophy in their home for the month. A trophy is also given to the dish with the best presentation. Incidentally, I always think it's funny when I get the presentation trophy, but not the gold/silver/bronze. It's as if the group is saying "Golly, your dish was sure pretty. Too bad it didn't taste as good as it looked."

We women in the neighborhood have been meeting for over two and a half years. It is crazy fun and delicious. I had the honor of winning the gold trophy just three nights ago. The theme was Oats; my entry was Oat Crepes filled with sauteed apples (four varieties), topped with fresh whipped cream, drizzled with warm Nutella, and toasted almonds. But I had a hunch that my dish would do well. I cheated. I used a secret weapon: cream cheese.