An Armed Guard, Here. A Little Rent-a-Cop with a Nine Millimeter on His Hip

I do not like dealing with security guards that stand outside of smaller airports and enforce the "no waiting!" policy of the loading/unloading zone. I understand the "no waiting" policy. I don't understand ego maniac security guards who treat the curb like Fort Knox. My first bad experience was at a teeny tiny airport. It is so tiny, the arrival gate is about ten feet from the closely-guarded "no waiting!" curb. I waited in the short term parking until the plane landed, then maneuvered the car next to the curb. I was too quick. I could not  see Drek coming off the tiny plane, and the security guard knew it. He came up and angrily tapped on my window. "Can't you read the sign? No waiting! Get out of here! This is a small airport! Make room for people who don't have to wait!" Which, was actually funny, because I was the only car in the entire airport. There was no one to make room for. 

The next time was at a much busier airport. The guard was so much meaner, and it was a much more terrifying situation, in which I ended up circling the airport seven times, because the people I was trying to pick up were not waiting on the curb, but on the bench back away form the curb, and I could see them, but they couldn't see me, and every time I tried to get their attention the guard (who had singled me out, and looked for my car) would yell and shout and chase me off. Terrifying. 

But sometimes those guards are not crazy ego maniacs. Sometimes they are just security guards, trying to make sure everything runs smoothly. When Drek left on his adventure, he drove us down to the airport, parked on the curb, and then unpacked all his stuff from the car. I got out, we hugged and said good-bye, and then he went into the airport. I got in the driver's seat, turned on my GPS, put on my seat belt and ...realized Drek had taken my keys with him. Oh no! 

I jumped out if the car and ran to the nearest security guard, who was laughing and chatting with another security guard. 

"Excuse me, I have a small problem. I just dropped my husband off, but he took my keys with him. I need them back, but I can't move the car without the keys..." I pointed to my car. 

He smiled, nodded, and said "Hurry. We'll keep and eye on your car." 

I ran inside, found Drek right away, stole another kiss as well as my keys and headed back to my car, thanking the security guard on my way out. 

This morning I packed Ash in the drove to the airport. Last night I had a few nightmare about terrible security guards becoming drunk with power and turning into tyrannical monsters, reigning over their curb with blood and bullets, and decided not to risk it. I paid for parking and went inside the airport to wait at the bottom of the escalator for Drek.

I spotted Drek before he stepped on the escalator, but Drek was looking past us, out the windows and onto the street, looking for our car. Once he got to the bottom we were two feet in front of him. He glanced right at us and didn't see us. He actually had to step around Ash and still didn't realize we were there until I called his name. By that time I was laughing too hard to give him the proper welcome I had envisioned for the last nine days. 

In any case, welcome home, Drek! We are so glad you are back!

For, Behold, You Should Not Have Feared Man More Than God

On Sunday I taught my Sunday School class (the twelve turning thirteen and thirteen turning fourteen year-olds) a lesson on Peer Pressure. After looking through the manual (stories about just say no! Let's role play!) I was board.  I decided my kids would be too.

I wrote my own lesson to achieve the same purpose. This was it: 

My kids have a problem with getting to class on time. They wander in five, ten, and fifteen minutes after class is officially supposed to start. A few weeks ago, three girls wandered in two minutes before the class was supposed to end. It's a problem. I've started doing little things to change that: give the first ones treats, start the lesson early... but for this class I simply waited until there were ten of them and then said this: 

"Because you are the first ones here, we are going to play a little game on the rest of the kids. Jay was here first so he is the leader. Every time I tap the chalkboard twice, Jay will pick a different position to sit in; maybe legs crossed, maybe leaning back in the chair...Whatever it is, copy it. Stay in that position until the next time I tap on the chalkboard and Jay changes his position. Now, try to get the other kids to conform to the same position. You can whisper to cross their legs or signal to them to copy you, but you cannot tell them about Jay, the tapping, or what you doing. If they directly ask, don't answer." 

It was great. Twelve more kids came in and we started. A few weeks ago I had ask them to write down questions and I devoted this class to answering them. Everytime I started on a new question I would tap the chalkboard twice. Jay started out subtle (chin on hand, leaning back) and finally ended by sitting on the floor. It was such an obvious thing, that as soon as the other kids moved to the floor, two of the "unknowing" kids moved too, almost instantly. Most of them hesitated or laughed or questioned before moving down, and one kid looked around, asked what was going on, shrugged, and announced that he was a rebel. He then laughed and sat on the floor. I was timing it. It took 31.4 seconds for the twelve kids to give into peer pressure and conform to the other ten kids without any explanation. 

I then asked each one of them why they had sat on the floor, and not one could tell me. They all shrugged and said and said something like "Because everyone was on the floor". Or "because I thought we were supposed to." One kid got creative and said he thought it was time to pray. 

I then told them the lesson was on peer pressure and explained the experiment. We then read and discussed three amazing scriptures:

Exodus 14:13

Doctrine and Covenants 3:5-8

Deuteronomy 3:22

And that was the lesson. 

Count to Five

Drek is off an an adventure and left me Ash and I at home. Normally, this is not a problem. Ash and I have fun with just us girls, but this time...not so much.

Saturday I took Ash to a birthday party at the park. Two hours into it I realized I had left the stove on. I rushed home, turned down the street (no flames! Good sign!) jumped out of the car, did a ninja roll and...smelled smoke before I had even opened the door. I dashed inside, ran to the stove and turned it off, grabbed the blackened pot and took it out back.  Nothing burned down, but the house smells terrible. It brings back memories. Memories leaving a kettle on the stove at the Krayola box and going out to a three hour long play, coming back and finding the kettle melted to the stove and the house smelling like smoke. Memories of leaving the stove on in our first apartment after we were married and trying to get the smoke smell out for days with efforts that included mopping the ceiling.  Hey, maybe I should stop leaving the stove on.

Saturday night I had a night terror. I haven't had one of those in years. It was awful. And I couldn't shake the terror felling for the rest of the night. I was terrified that someone was trying to break in. Terrified. I spent most of the night holding Ash with one hand (she slept through the whole thing) and clutching my car alarm in the other; you know, because if someone broke in I could press the button and my car alarm would sound and either scare the intruder away or alert the neighbors. Anyway, it was a truly awful night. I hope never to repeat it.

So, anyone want to have a sleepover at my house? Maybe for the next week?

For my birthday, my wonderful sister-in-law gave me a humming bird feeder. I hung it up on the clothes line pole right outside the kitchen window so I could see all the hummingbirds.

And then a month went by, and another, and another. I refilled the mixture, thinking I had done it wrong, but still no hummingbirds.

A few weeks ago Drek took down the old clothes line and made me a new one; with metal posts stuck into cement and an actual rope. My clothesline is beautiful!  But in the process he broke the hummingbird feeder. Which was okay; we hadn't seen a single hummingbird anyway.

Yesterday I looked out the kitchen window and was surprised to see not one, but THREE hummingbirds, all in a row, sitting on my clothesline. One of them hovered over the line for a minute before fluttering off, and then the other two followed.

Crazy.

Bubbles, Bubbles Everywhere, But Not a Drop to Drink - Yet

I got a free sample of soap in the mail; one of those new gel pack things. Drek put it in the dishwasher and turned it on right before we retired for the night to a game of scrabble. In the middle of the game, I needed a drink, so I went in the kitchen and turned on the light. Hey! Snow! All over our kitchen floor! Oh wait, no. Bubbles. From the dishwasher.

I called Drek to come build bubblemen with me or maybe build a bubblefort and throw bubbleballs, but instead he turned off the dishwasher, pulled the rest of the gel pack out and cleaned up the suds. While he did that, I read the coupon that came with the sample and learned that it was actually laundry detergent, not dish washing soup. They really should make that more clear...

Just in case you were wondering; laundry detergent bubbles work great to clean the floor, but are very bad at cleaning dishes. And now you know.

You Mean You Never Actually Flew the Plane? Good Heavens, No! I'm a Chicken! The Royal Air Force Doesn't Let Chickens Behind the Controls of a Complex Aircraft

Just after our chickens were killed by a coyote, our backyard neighbors bought seventy-two baby chicks.  Our neighbors are a young married couple, both graduated from college, both working full-time jobs. They decided raising chickens and selling eggs would be a good additional income.

But after a few days, it was apparent the women didn't really think of the chicks as a second job; she was out there talking to them, cuddling them, and singing to them for several hours a days. As the chicks grew, she still spent hours with them. She began scolding them when they fought and even taught them to jump on her shoulder and ride around like a parrot.

The couple told us they would sell us four of the chicks as soon as they were old enough to lay eggs. Drek and I were excited to replace our older, lazy, non-egg-chickens with young chickens who might lay us some eggs, but at the same time we both thought "Will she be able to give up her babies?"

Because that's what she calls them; her babies. She calls herself their mama. She hand-feeds treats, has named each one and can even recognize them individually by the sound they make. Did I mention she cuddles them? She is always cuddling them.

So, the time has come. The chickens have just barely started to lay eggs. We worked out the payment, and decided on a date. The night before, she texted me, asking if she could move the date back because "I needs more time to mentally prepare the chickens for the big move." She also said she needed to bring them over to our house right before sundown, so she could get them ready for bed and sing them to sleep. She also mentioned that if they look up at with big eyes, it's because they want to be cuddled.

Now, I value the life of a chicken. I want the chickens to work hard and lay eggs for me, but I don't want to kill and eat the chickens, nor do I want them to be unhappy. We went out of way with our last chickens to make sure they had comfy nests and lots of treats and opened up the whole yard to them so they could free-range.

But I am not going to cuddle a chicken. I do not want a chicken jumping up on my shoulder for any reason. I am not going to sing bedtimes songs to the chickens and put them to bed. I'm just not.

We are friends with this couple. I'm afraid if I take the chickens and don't cuddle them, she will be offended. I'm even more afraid one of the chickens will die, and she will never forgive me.

Do I really want to own chickens? Or do I just want a steady stream of  inexpensive, cage-free cruelty-free, free-range happy-chicken eggs? I thought the best way to guarantee that was to own my own chickens, but she definitively takes better care or those chickens than I ever could. If I'm getting my eggs from happy chickens, does it matter that the coup is three feet to the left of the fence instead of three feet to the right? 

Sammy Jankis Wrote Himself Endless Notes. But He'd Get Mixed Up. I've Got a More Graceful Solution to the Memory Problem. I'm Disciplined and Organized. I Use Habit and Routine to Make My Life Possible. Sammy Had No Drive. No Reason to Make it Work

When I made the decision to be a stay-at-home mom, I knew it would be hard.* If I'm not meeting deadlines or sales quotas, or striving for a raise, then there is very little pressure and since I work best under pressure, I now find myself working...less than my best.

Last week at a Relief Society activity we had a guest speaker come talk to us about meal planning and couponing. I was not impressed by her couponing, nor by her meal planning, but she did say something that struck me. She had four children, did the accounting, ordering and filing for her husband's business  and worked outside the home as a lawyer. All her meals were home-cooked (either crockpot or made ahead freezer meals). They always ate dinner as a family and played family games after dinner. Now that her children are grown, she can say that they all turned out successful (A lawyer, a CEO, a doctor and...I can't remember the last one). She said that the only way she could do all that was to be organized. "Organization is the key to success!" is what struck me. She said she was driven to be so organized because her dad gave her a hard time about working outside of the home, and he drilled into her that she "better make it worth it." So she did.

It was the motivation I needed. Why isn't my house clean? Why do we only have oatmeal for breakfast? Why doesn't our family play more games? Why isn't my blog updated? Why is my first novel still unedited, my second novel still only half written, and my third, forth, fifth and sixth novels still only in my head?  Because I'm not organized!  I can do so much more if only I organize!

I decided that even though I'm not a fan of freezer dinners (I like to cook. I like making dinner) I could get behind the idea of freezer breakfasts!I then created a weekly chore chart that dictates two areas a day I need to clean. At the end of the week, the house it clean! Of course, the exception is the kitchen. If I do not clean that area three times every day, it becomes eligible to be declared a hazardous zone. So the kitchen is always on my chore list.

Ash also had chores everyday. They correspond to the area I'm cleaning and are all age-appropriate chores. That way she is learning valuable skills at the same time.

When I'm done with my chores for the day, I'm done cleaning. I don't have to feel guilty about sitting down and writing. By the time Drek comes home I've cleaned and written, which means our free time can be spend playing games.

So far, I've had great success. I even feel like I have MORE energy, even though I'm doing more. My chart is much healthier motivation that a mad scramble to clean the house in the last few minutes before visitors show up at the door.


*What I didn't know was how much fun it is to be a stay-at-home mom and how much I would love it.

Ah! I See That You Have Found the Sacred Peach Tree of Heavenly Wisdom! Oh! Is That What This Is? I'm So Sorry! I Just Thought it Was a Regular Peach Tree

Dinner tonight consisted of yellow squash, green bell peppers, green onions, and tomatoes, all grown in our garden and picked an hour before the meal. For desert we walked out to our tree: 

and picked a few peaches. 

They are the most delicious peaches I have ever had! I think the fact that they are still warm from the sun is a big contributor. 

This peach tree is the second tree to give us a harvest. Our apple tree (planted last year, the same time as the peach tree) yielded two whole apples. We'll definitely get more peaches than that!  In a few more weeks I think we'll have a harvest of lemons and oranges as well. I don't think we'll get plums this year, but we might. I know the blood oranges, macadamia nuts, grapefruits and avocados will have to wait another year, but the trees themselves are doing great. The avocado was actually the first tree we planted (the blood orange and macadamia were the last) but I know they take the longest to produce fruit. That's okay, I can wait! 

Drive Sports Cars, Date Movie Stars, Buy Things That are Not for Sale... Who Knows, Master Wayne? You Start Pretending to Have Fun, You Might Even Have a Little by Accident

Today Drek and I have been married for five whole years. We had a wonderful anniversary; we dropped off the baby and car seat, cleaned the car inside and out so we could drive in an "adult" car, and went down to the big city to spend the night at a bed and breakfast, eat out at a fancy restaurant, and stay up late watching the most romantic movies we could think of: Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. 

We've now known each other for six years and one month. In that time, I've picked up on a pattern: Drek isn't big into planning dates. As far as I can tell, he doesn't mind going on dates, or even paying for them, it's the planning them he doesn't like...or do. 

On our Anniversary, we usually give "us" a gift. This year, I decided to make our gift. This is what I came up with: 

The label says: 

Date Sticks In-A-Jar 

Red sticks: Expensive, 24 hour planning required 

Purple sticks: Free - $30, up to 1 hour planning 

Dark Cherry sticks: At home, up to 1 hour planning 

The easy part was painting the sticks (Ash helped. She loved this part):

The hard part was scouring the Internet for date ideas and cross referencing local attractions. Thus transferring the very unhelpful "go out to eat at a nice restaurant!" and "This restaurant serves the best vegetarian chili in the entire state. Four stars!" into "drive eighteen miles to Vegi Mama's Bistro located at 555 Sunland Road, Sunland. Order vegetarian chili at $7.95/meal. Total cost: $15.90 + tax and tip. Total time: an hour and a half.

Of course, not all of them are dinner dates. Most of them are fun, creative, and inexpensive. I would give examples, but Drek reads this blog and I don't want to give away any spoilers! 

In essence, I planned all the details of thirty seven dates. I typed out the details of the date on a strip of paper, then wrapped that paper around a color-coded Popsicle stick. Then, on the outside of the paper, I wrote the total cost, total time, and total distance: 

Because the Dark Cherry sticks are dates we can do at home, there isn't a distance on them, however, some of them requite a quick trip to the grocery store beforehand. On those ones I simply wrote "store" and the total cost to be spent at the store. Some of the home dates are free, don't require any traveling, and can take as long or as short as required, so those I simply left blank.

Then I took a peanut butter jar (It's actually super romantic, because when we were dating we loved LOST, and both loved the scene where Charlie gives Claire a "jar of peanut butter" and they eat it together. When Drek proposed, he proposed with a peanut butter jar. So this is a continuation of that) painted the lid, put the sticks in and taped on the label:

The result: Whenever we want to go on a date, Drek will decide how much time he has to plan, how much we can spend, and the time we have available, and picks out an accommodating stick (having no idea what the actual date is). The he unwraps the paper and reads the instructions for our date night. No planning on his part, we get to enjoy some pretty awesome date nights together, and we have the added bonus of the "oh, which stick will he pick? What mystery date awaits us?"

Happy Anniversary, love of my life.

And should we win the day, the Fourth of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: "We will not go quietly into the night!" We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!

The Independence Day celebrations of my youth started early in the morning with a church pancake dinner, followed by either watching or being in, a parade, followed by games, festivals, movies, and barbecues until it was dark and we could set off fireworks (which was always wonderful) followed by camping out in a grassy area and waiting until eleven when the giant firework display lit up the whole sky and each burst seemed so close you thought it would land on you when it rained down out of the sky. That is how I thought the Fourth of July was celebrated everywhere.

Well, that's not how it's celebrated here in Sunland. Our church didn't have a breakfast, there was no parade, fireworks in any form are not sold here, and each city does its own, very small, firework display at nine, but traffic is so bad you'll be stuck in it until midnight.

So, for the first time last week and this week, I felt myself getting just a little bit homesick. Maybe from now on we'll just have to make a yearly pilgrimage to Hometown just for Independence Day. But this year that was not an option. So I came up with other plans: Ultimate Frisbee in the park!
I was worried that since we couldn't reserve the park, pavilion, or field, we wouldn't get tables and we would have to fight to play Frisbee. I arrived at the park at nine in the morning (an hour early) and discovered that a game of soccer had already taken up the entire field, and that another family had already claimed the pavilion. I snagged two tables in a grassy area and waited. An hour later, people actually started arriving, the soccer game was over and the other family that had claimed the pavilion asked if they could play Frisbee with us!

It went great! We had a lot of people there, both kids and adults, and the kids had a great time playing on the playground, digging in the sand (we brought a lot of sandtoys) and running around on the grass. Everyone brought food, so there was more than enough to eat. I made this:

 And Amy brought these:

So not only was there more than enough delicious food, some of it was even patriotic! And then, of course, we played Ultimate: 

See how nice and cool we all look? It was sixty seven all day. Mostly cloudy with a nice, cool breeze. Not exactly beach weather, but perfect Ultimate Frisbee weather! 

The party ended at two so everyone could go off and do their own activities, but to my delight, I was not the only one who decided the fireworks were just not worth keeping kids up late or driving anywhere for. After discovering that most of us didn't have plans, we quickly decided to have a game night! We were up until Midnight playing.

Maybe it wasn't the best Independence Day ever, but it was a wonderful Holiday. 

I Get My Hair Cut Every Two Days. After All, Your Hair is Your Headsuit

I've dreaded this moment years. I knew it was coming, I could feel it. I tried to prevent it, but really, what could I do?

Ash has been going potty all by herself. She was in there for a little while, then came out and went into her room to play with her toys. A little while later I went into the bathroom and froze. There, on the tile, was a tiny curl. And another one, and another one.

Ash cut her own hair. Down to the scalp.

I had cut Drek's hair the night before and Ash had watched. I stupidly left the scissors out on the counter and when Ash went into the bathroom she must have thought her hair could use a trim.

Moan. Why do kids do this?! It wouldn't be so bad if Ash wasn't bald the first two years of her life and has only just barely began to actually grow hair!

I hope it grows back quickly. And she only got the front, not the sides, so she still has a few baby curls.

We had a stern talk about cutting your own hair. And then I hid all the scissors.

Pay No Attention To Little Me

I am not a bug person. I found them interesting as a child, learning about potato bugs and butterflies, but I have terrible arachnophobia and I don't really find six legged creatures to be all that attractive either. I don't like looking at pictures of insects, let alone looking at an actual live, moving insect.

So at first I was not into the idea of getting bees. I went to a beekeeping class up in Burgville, learned a lot, but still thought that was not for me. And then, somehow, I'm not really sure how, that changed. Somehow I ended up with a beehive and a package swarm of bees on my front porch. 

I read the book, I joined the club, I did the research. And then I actually suited up and put the bees into their new hive...and I was hooked. I've suited up around five times now, each time delving into the depths of the hive, examining the the combs, searching for larvae and the all important Queen bee. Each time a bee will land on my gloved hand or crawl on my veil. Each time I think to myself  "This is the coolest thing ever." 

Today I once again delved into the beehive  I always feel like Winnie the Pooh when I first approach the bees. But anyway, I pulled out a few frames, and squealed in delight over the dozens of larvae and mass amounts of HONEY. We scraped the burr comb off the top of a frame and honey oozed out of it. It was amazing. 

We pulled out the next frame and I almost jumped up and down in excitement (not a good thing to do in the presence of three thousand bees)  "Look! Look, Anna! The Queen! It's the Queen! See? Look!" 

We scraped off more burr comb and closed up the hive. We took the comb inside the house and the kids dipped their fingers in , grabbed big chunks and popped them in their mouths. I actually had honey dripping down my hand. REAL honey. Amazingly delicious tastes-nothing-like-store-bought-honey honey. 

I'm surprised. I really didn't think I would love beekeeping as much as I do. I LOVE it. So, the moral is...try new things? Bees make tasty honey? Winnie the Pooh is a good role model? I'm not sure, but I am delighted. 

You are Almost Ready to be Entrusted with the Secret Ingredient of my Secret Ingredient Soup. And Then You Will Fulfill Your Destiny and Take Over the Restaurant Just as I Took It Over From My Father Who Took It Over From His Father Who Won It From a Friend in a Game of Mahjong.

Hello blogging world. I have not forgotten you. I just...meh

Today we went to the annual Pinewood derby and chili cook-off! Once again I entered my chili (more just to make sure there would be chili I could actually eat rather than to enter the contest) but this year I had two surprises.

First, there were two other vegetarian entries! I had three bowls of chili! It was awesome!

Second, I won an award! My chili is now award-winning.

Black Bean and Sweet Potato Chili 
3 medium-large organic sweet potatoes
1 cup chopped onion
3 to 4 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup dried black beans (soaked and cooked until soft)
1 16-ounce can petite diced tomatoes with green chilies
4 teaspoons fresh ground cumin
2 teaspoons California chili pepper powder
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 cup minced fresh cilantro

 Bake the sweet potatoes at 350 for 1 hour. When cool enough to handle, peel and cut into 3/4-inch dice. Set aside until needed. Water sauté the onion and garlic over medium heat until the onion is golden. Add the remaining ingredients except the cilantro and sweet potatoes. Bring to a simmer, then simmer gently, covered for 15 minutes. Add the diced sweet potatoes and cilantro. Let stand off the heat for an hour or two, then heat through right before serving.

Cool. Cool Cool Cool. Hot. Hot Hot Hot

Ash and are on a road trip! We stopped by Las Vegas and I had it in my memory that you can see the white tigers at The Mirage for free, so that was our destination. While looking for the tigers, we stopped in front of a beautiful indoor waterfall to take pictures. An older couple came up behind us and smiled at Ash.

"Hi!" they cooed at her. "Remember us?" They looked at me.
I looked at them. I had never seen them before and besides, what are the odds that we would run into someone we know in the middle of a casino in Vegas?
"We were in line with you yesterday at the white tiger exhibit." They turned their attention back to Ash. "Such beautiful eyes! Remember us, honey?"
"Um, I don't think we were here yesterday." I said timidly. But, not wanting them to feel bad I added "But, actually, we were just looking for the tiger exhibit. Do you know where it is?"
The man took a step back and looked amazed. "Are you kidding me?' He exclaimed. He turned back to Ash. "Nah, I know it's you. Were you wearing sparkley gold shoes yesterday, honey?"
"Uh-huh." Ash said, in that stage where that is her answer to any question."
The man took this as proof that I was "kidding him" and that I was mentally unstable. He and his wife hurried away whispering.

Where they in a different temporal reality yesterday? Are there Doppelgangers about? Was I separated from my twin sister at birth and somehow she ended up having a daughter who is the same age and looks just like my daughter, except she owns a pair of sparkley gold shoes instead of sparkley pink shoes?  Oh! Maybe it was my evil twin from a darker timeline with an evil Ash. I wonder if they were wearing felt goatees.

We did find the tigers, but it costs money to see them. But, on the bright side, we did see a really cool indoor waterfall.

It's not Broken. The Sun is Behind the Moon. It's a Solar Eclipse. It's Literally the Darkest Day in Fire Nation History

Recently the Internets told us we could see a solar eclipse if we were looking at the right time and...you know...didn't actually look. Drek constructed some very fancy technology so we could watch without damaging our eyes: 

Very cool:

It wasn't a full eclipse, which might explain why we weren't attacked by vampires, or a Kraken, or invaders of any sort. But it was still exciting in it's own way.

What is the Point of All Those Push-Ups If You Can't Even Lift a Bloody Log?

This morning I did thirty push-ups in a row without stopping. They were girl push-ups, but still, considering that a month ago I couldn't do more than six girl push-ups in a row, thirty is astounding. Even more astounding: in two more weeks I expect to do one hundred girl push-ups in a row.

Drek and I are doing the One Hundred Push-Ups program. He does army push-ups. I think once we've hit the one hundred push-up mark we'll start over and I'll do army push-ups and he'll do one-armed push-ups with Ash riding on his back. Maybe over the hot coals of a campfire. My husband is that awesome. 

Why Did the Pig Go Into the Kitchen? Because He Felt Like Bakin'

The Relief Society talent show was last night. The closer it got, the more I panicked about sharing my blog as my "talent." On the internet there is no pretense about talent: It's a blog. It may or may not be good. I could be a six-year old. I could be an illiterate. The reader makes no assumptions before reading a post.  Presumably, if you are sharing something at a talent show, whether or not you were forced, the readers think you have some talent in that area. I just can't put my writing out there to be judged like that!

So I called and asked if I could set up my massage table and give out one minute massages instead. It's not a talent, but it is an ability, and in one minute could these sisters really tell the difference? So That's what I did. I think it went well.

The other talents were great. We had the usual: singing, dancing, knitting, and the unusual: doll making, speed yoga, salsa making... One women told three  jokes she had memorized from laffy taffy wrappers. Perhaps my favorite one was a women who stood up and said: "I was asked to share a talent and I said I  didn't have one to share. I sarcastically mentioned I could juggle for five seconds and they said 'Oh! Wonderful! Do that!'"
So she did. It might have been only four seconds, but it was great.

The night was quite wonderful. I hope we do another one next year.

This Will be a Day Long Remembered. It has Seen the End of Kenobi, and Will Soon See the End of the Rebellion

We are winning the battle. We are squashing those rebel scum, or, rebel snails, actually. The snails joined forces with the rabbits. They suggested a new strategy : Destroy our food source and starve us out.

For a while they had the advantage. We overestimated their strength and lost one brave zucchini plant. That's what it took to startle us into action.

We retaliated by arming the base of our plants (Japanese eggplant, Italian eggplant, crooked neck squash, straight neck squash) with copper tape.They regrouped to avenge their friend.  The snails didn't stand a chance.

Along with rearming, the squash plants began training by the bush beans, which were so skilled at combat they didn't have a single nibble scar from the snails. Sadly, it wasn't much later that the bush beans began to fall seemingly random attacks. At first we thought snails, but those blast points: too accurate for snails. Only rabbits are so precise. They were sneaking under the fence to take out our forces one by one.

We fortified our perimeter with old wooden boards from the fence we had just torn down. We had to go into the garbage chute to get them, but we were victorious. Our army is nothing if not resourceful!

In victory, we were able to collect our first harvest: Our broccoli plants withstood all battles valiantly. You can see the scars on the leaves, but those scars weren't enough.

We staged a rescue of the produce. At first we had a bad feeling, we weren't sure if we were going to make it.It was some rescue; we went in there and didn't have a plan for getting out, but then I used the scissors to cut the broccoli off the stalk, and it was all clear, kid! Now let’s blow this thing and go home! We ate the broccoli for dinner today. It was delicious.

Happy Revenge of the Sixth, everyone. 

Michael Jordan Plays Ball. Charles Manson Kills People. I Talk. Everyone Has a Talent

Actual phone conversation from yesterday:

Her: "I was just calling to let you know about our Relief Society activity next week."
Me: "Oh, yes. I have it on my calendar and am actually working out a carpool. I will be there!"
Her: "Great! Well, it's a talent show, are you planning on performing?"
Me: "Ha! No. Very no. I wouldn't want to subject the poor sisters to anything I could perform."
Her: "Well, everyone has different talents. This activity is to showcase all different kinds of talents. You don't have to sing or do a dramatic play, you could bring something that you've sewn. I don't know if you sew.
Me: "I don't"
Her: "Or something you've knitted. We have sisters bringing photographs and artwork.
Me: "I'm not really a crafty person. At all. Really. I don't have anything I can showcase."
Her: "We'll have display tables set up. You don't even have to stand in front of everyone, you can just have something on the tables.You could even bring something you've grown in your garden. I know you have a garden."
Me: "Oh, well, yes, but it's in the ground. And it's not really my garden, it's more of a team effort. It can't really be called my talent.
Her "Maybe something you've cooked?"
Me: "We have so many talented sisters in the ward, I'm sure the night is already scheduled."
Her: "Well, actually, we're asking every sister to share a talent. This night isn't about sitting and watching, it's about sharing the gift you've been given. We need everyone to share their talent."
Me: "Uh-huh. You know, I think I'm busy that night..."

She said she'd talk to me on Sunday to get my talent on the program. Sigh

Talent. I just don't have it. I am not being modest, I am accepting reality. So, aside from flying Krisling out here so we can do the light saber Jedi-duel we practiced (but never performed because I am not talented in light saber dueling) for our college talent show, I just don't have any ideas. I asked my friend about it, and she suggested I use one of my blog posts. Which, despite the fact that blogging isn't really a talent, and as far as blogs go, this doesn't make the list of "top fifty best blogs I've ever read",  is actually a fantastic idea. It's something small that won't draw a lot of attention, and this blog is public on the internet so how much harder can it be to display a single post on a table?

I could use some help. Is there a blog post of mine you've found particularly read-worthy? Maybe one that made you laugh out loud or one that you thought was just a touch insightful? I'm not looking for a post worthy of a Peabody award, just one that I can share without dying of embarrassing. Maybe I've written a post without any grammatical or spelling errors (now that would be beyond my talent)?

Nice Try. We Never Had Any Cookiejars in My Home Because My Mother Never Baked Cookies 'Cause She Never Felt We Deserved Any Cookies so Obviously it has Nothing to do With My Childhood

I love to cook, but I'm not all that good at baking. Yes, I did work in a bakery for over a year, but I didn't really pick up on any baking tips.

When I cook, I rarely fail. I'd say my success rate is around ninety nine percent.

When I bake, I'd say my success rate is around sixty percent. I just don't understand why things don't rise sometimes. I still can't make a perfect loaf of bread. Now, some of this might have to do with the fact that I still don't have a working oven, but even before that I had problems.

And then there is pie crust. Pie crust is my nemesis. I cannot make pie crusts. I've tried tips and secrets, I've tried different recipes and ingredients, but I still struggle with pie crust. I'd put my success rate at around four percent.

And yet, today I decided to make empanadas, which is basically a hundred tiny little pie crusts. Why I thought I could do that, I do not know. I was supposed to make dinner for a women who just had a baby, and I thought empanadas would be a good dessert, and didn't think through the fact that I hate making pie crusts.

Oh, it was a fantastic failure. I struggled throughout the whole process, I wasted two thirds of the dough when I tried to roll it our or press it together, and what few empanadas did make it into the oven were filled with holes and cracks. I made it even worse when I tried to get them off the cookie sheet and they crumbled into one big mess of apple, cinnamon, sugar, and crust.

It's to the point where I am willing to admit defeat: I don't care if you have a perfect pie crust recipe, I am done trying. I will, from henceforth, buy pie crusts.

On the bright side, dinner turned out perfect, so there.