SFL 340 Family Recipes

So for my cooking class, we are supposed to collect family recipes and the history and traditions that go with the recipes.

My family has many recipes, but there's no way in heck I will be sharing some of them--like my Mom's roast beef in the crock-pot, or my cousin's broccoli cheese soup. But there are some I wouldn't get in massive amounts of trouble for sharing.

Soups

Crock-pot Chili

{From Left: Manda, Scarlet, Carrera, and Lance Taylor}

My cousin Manda gave me this recipe. She's actually my cousin Lance's wife if one wants to get truly technical, but in reality she is my confidant, an older sister I was never allowed to grow up with. The salon chair has all the sanctity of the confessional, and I have bared my soul to her many times. I consider myself very lucky that, more than once, I have opened a present from my Mom, found a book, and heard "Manda said you'd probably like this."

Once upon a time, that book was 101 Things to do with a Crock-pot and came with the phrase "Manda said the chili recipe in there was very good, she said you'd like it." The first time I made it was for the Super Bowl in 2011, and it was a HIT. I've adapted it since then, and here is how it cooks now.

1 lb ground turkey, browned and drained
1/2 a medium white onion, chopped
One large can of diced tomatoes
One normal can each black beans, pinto beans, and dark red kidney beans
Three small cans tomato paste
One small can green chiles
One clove garlic, pressed
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1 tablespoon Chili Powder
1/2 cup water

Grease or line a crock-pot. Dump all ingredients in and stir well. Cook on high for four hours or on low for 6-8 hours. Dish up and enjoy!

My Chicken Enchilada soup

This recipe is my own. I made it up to replicate my favorite soup from Zupa's.

You just take all the cans pictured here, dump the contents into the crock-pot, make the bouillon cube into a cup of broth and dump that in too.

Now you add your spices. I eyeballed it, but it comes out to about:

·         2 T chopped dried onion (you could also use ½ of a small white onion, diced)

·         1t garlic powder (you could also press a small clove of garlic)

·         1 t chili powder

·         1 t cayenne powder

·         ¼ t paprika

·         1 pinch each salt and pepper

·         A generous smattering of hot sauce (I like sriracha, personally)

Stir it all up, put on the lid, and turn the crockpot on low for 6-8 hours. 

Salads

I'm Mad Pasta Salad

My mother is terrified that I'm going to get Diabetes. Two or three incidents of obesity in the family history on my adoption file combined with my love of sweets and creamy things convinced her before my first day of high school. This caused us some arguments between us when I was in high school. We didn't argue more than any other mother and daughter argued, but we did argue. And truth be told, she has reason to worry; I have a sedentary career choice and interest field, asthma that means I have to really try to work out, a love of good food, and the bad genes to just make that a recipe for poor health. But in high school, all I could hear was "no." It was sort of silly, but then everyone has the occasional arguments about silly things with their parents, especially in high school.

The odd thing is, there have been many productive things that came out of me being mad at my mom. This recipe is one of them. The only other thing she likes that came from her ticking me off more than this one is a manuscript for a children's book.

But the big reason it's here is that, the first time I made it, my Mom and I were able to realize that the fight we were having was silly. She apologized, I apologized, she asked to try a little, and we still make it on summer days when we can't decide what to eat. Because with the carbs from the pasta, the endorphin-releasing crunch of the celery, and Italian flavors, it's the perfect low-guilt comfort food.

4-6 cups of bowtie pasta
5 T olive oil
1/2 c of your favorite Italian dressing
4 celery ribs, chopped
Half a normal can of black olives, sliced
One 12.5 oz. can of chicken, drained and chopped

Cook and drain pasta, place in serving bowl. Toss pasta with dressing and oil. Add all remaining ingredients and toss again

Potato Salad

For whatever reason, the Taylor family eats potato salad for just about every holiday but Thanksgiving. We make and eat it at all times of the year, summery as it is. The one time my cousin Lacey was ever asked if she had any requests for the Christmas party buffet table, she said she wanted "The one with sliced hard-boiled eggs on top" which is how we serve it at official parties.

We always make it the same way, I'll never forget how shocked I was when I learned Cherie's family made hers with Mayo and celery, of all the odd things! So we each brought our family's version of potato salad to the bonfire that started us talking about it, and while I do like hers and she likes mine after all, nothing will replace the Taylor way.

{Mine is the one on the left}

5-6 peeled and boiled potatoes, cubed
Minced onion
4 boiled eggs, chopped
1 c Miracle whip
1 T pickle relish
2 t yellow mustard

Mix ingredients, garnish with paprika, and serve!

Poultry 

Creamy Italian Chicken

When my uncle was made a bishop, my aunt found some amazing fix-and-forget crock-pot meals. This one is by far my favorite. She shared it with us.

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 cans cream of chicken soup
One packet Italian salad dressing
8 oz. Cream Cheese

Combine first three ingredients in crock-pot, cook on high for three hours, add cream cheese and stir. Serve over noodles or rice.

Oven-Fried Chicken Parmesan

Mom and I love this, but it's on here because Dad loves it.

Dad's enthusiastic about Elvis, not much else.

But he does enjoy this chicken!

4-5 boneless skinless chicken breasts

1/2 c grated Parmesan cheese

1/4 c flour
1 t paprika
1/2 t salt
dash pepper
1/4 c melted butter
1 egg, slightly beaten
1 T milk

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Mix egg and milk, set aside. Mix flour, cheese, and seasonings; set aside. Melt butter. Dip chicken breasts first in egg-and-milk mixture, then in Parmesan breading, then place in 13"-x-9" baking dish. Drizzle with the melted butter and bake for one hour.

Chicken Pillows

I got this recipe from my junior high cooking class. My mother loves it, and miracle of miracles, every boy I have ever dated just adores it. It is cheap, may be served with anything, and is filling.

One 12.5 oz. can chicken
8 oz. Cream Cheese
1 can of Crescent roll dough
I packet of chicken gravy mix

Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Mix chicken and cream cheese. Put spoonfuls of chicken mixture on each piece of dough, roll up. Place on greased cookie sheet and bake for 15-20 minute, or until golden brown. Mix up gravy packet according to directions, add leftover filling, and serve over chicken pillows like dumplings.

Fish 

Salmon Patties

We are the Salmon Ladies.

That's what everyone started calling us. We order salmon everywhere we go out to eat, and my Mom, Grandma (pictured above), and Aunt Sue were given the nickname by waiters at the Layton Lonestar.

Grandma made these for Mom, and we sort of think of them as a salmon-lover's comfort food.

One large can red salmon
1 slice of bread, torn to pieces
1 egg
A splash of milk

Pick all the skin & bones out of the salmon. Mix other ingredients with salmon. shape into patties and fry in a lightly oiled skillet. Serve plain or with ketchup.

Bread

Our Zucchini Bread

This is a fun recipe, and the hardest part is grating the Zucchini. I got it from Mom, who got it from my Aunt Sue. She got it when, between my aunt and Dad's best friend, we had an abundance of Zucchini. I got it when my roommates experienced a similar abundance. I still have the slip of paper I took it down on in our freshman apartment.

2 c sugar
3 eggs
1 c oil
3 c flour
3 t vanilla
1/2 t ground cloves
2 c grated zucchini
1 t salt
1 t baking soda
3 t cinnamon
1/2 t nutmeg
1/4 t baking powder

Mix all ingredients. Seriously, just dump them in and mix it together. Grease & flour 2 large loaf pans. Bake @ 350 degrees for 45 minutes.

Maddox Rolls

Maddox is one of our favorite restaurants, in no small part due to these little beauties. My cousin Maddie and I do not doubt we could live on them, and the heavenly raspberry butter that accompanies them.

2 Tablespoons of yeast (not rapid rise)
1/2 cup of warm water
1 1/2 teaspoon of salt
2 cups whole milk
1/2 cup (or 4 ounces) of  butter
1/2 cup of granulated sugar
3 large eggs
5 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour
In a saucepan, melt the butter and add the milk and salt.  Scald but do not boil.  Remove from the heat and allow to cool.
In a measuring cup, mix the yeast and warm water.  Add a pinch of sugar from the 1/2 cup measure and stir.  Let the yeast sit and proof for a few minutes.
In a large bowl, mix the yeast mixture, eggs, sugar, milk mixture and flour just until blended and no lumps of flour remain.  Do not over mix.  The dough will be sticky and very loose.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.  Spoon it into greased muffin tins and let it raise again until doubled in size.
Bake for 12-15 minutes or until the rolls are golden brown.  I'd go a little more on the underdone side.
Cool on a wire rack.  Serve with honey or raspberry butter.
This recipe makes about 24 dinner sized rolls.

My #newtowho story

I always meant to do this before now. I really did.

The BBC asked viewers during a commercial break for Asylum of the Daleks to tweet our our first experience with Doctor Who. 

Well, mine is too much for a tweet. SO I'm tweeting the link to this post.

My new to Who story begins in the spring of 2011. A friend from college was visiting me, and I knew she liked Doctor Who. So we did the adult thing and watched British sci-fi on a Saturday morning as we ate our pajamas. I told myself "I'll put it on because she likes it, but I'm not getting into this business."

That didn't work out the way I intended. BBC America was doing a re-run of "The Pandorica Opens" which we caught the tail end of, and "Big Bang Two." When we got the the end of The Pandorica Opens, I thought "Ok, I'm not addicted, but I have to know how it ends." By the end of the last episode, I was absolutely enchanted with the mad man and his blue box. 

I watched a few episodes with her over Spring term, sporadically. 

Then, I was dumped. I mean over-the-phone, unceremoniously dumped by the guy I was madly in love with about three weeks before finals. It tore me apart. May and early June of 2011 were some of my darkest times. I still had fun, my friends made sure of that. But I wasn't the same. 

Then the friend who introduced me to Doctor Who let me leech off her Netflix account so I could watch all the seasons on my long, lonely summer back in Roy. 

The Doctor literally saved my life. 

From the moment I watched the very first episode ever, even the most fleeting thoughts of ending my life, which had still occasionally flitted through my head, vanished completely. 

I watched Rose and the Doctor take off on adventures, and my faith in men was restored, completely. Here was a good, kind, attractive man (Time Lord, I know, but male) who was selfless and loving. I had lost faith that men like that existed after the breakup. But not only was The Doctor so good, he also saw and brought out the best in every human life he touched. The writing and acting on that show resuscitated my faith in the potential of every person.

I wept without restraint at Bad Wolf Bay, my own pain mirrored by the pain of The Doctor's separation from Rose. It helped me let out my second wave of sadness, alone in my room, unfettered.

Most of all, it kept me remembering that there is so much more to life than mediocrity--that we can be and do so much more.

To every person who has ever been involved in this wonderful show, I cannot thank you enough. Your efforts have saved my life and made it brighter. Every character on that show has taught me something and inspired me, as have the writers and actors who bring it to life--their stories give me hope for my own dreams, especially chief fanboys David Tennant and Steven Moffat.  But also Billie Piper, John Barrowman, Freema Agyeman, Catherine Tate, Matt Smith, Karen Gillan, and Arthur Darvill--and of course Russell T. Davies and Julie Gardner for bringing the series back.

{Here is a fun tribute video David, John, and Catherine made for their last wrap party}

Thank you, all of you, for making my life fuller and brighter. All of you have forever changed and saved my life. 

Puny Radishes!

"Hulk--Smash" Stir Fry

Bruce Banner would approve

Hello All!

Who knew working at a small-town weekly newspaper would take up so much of my time?

Okay, that's not all I've been doing this summer. I've made so many new friends down here.

And I saw a couple movies. Like this one:

I love this movie more than I could conceivably had expected.

If I had actually been paid to do this internship, I would have seen it at least six more times. When it gets to the dollar theater in Provo, I will probably do just that.

But what does this have to do with eating, I hear you asking across time and cyberspace? Well, I'm getting to that.

Remember those amazing friends I mentioned? Well, one of them is named Sariah and she's the Vice President of Snow College's student botany club. So she waters the older greenhouse.

A few weeks ago, she was going out of state to attend a funeral, and she needed someone to water the greenhouse while she was away. I volunteered because it sounded kind of fun, and was pleased to find out that I could harvest any produce that was ready and take it home for my personal use. 

And that was how I ended up with nine radishes that I had no idea what to do with. I love radishes, but I figured that I needed to do something other than cover them in salt, which is what I did when I was nine. 

{This is about what the radishes looked like when I pulled them out of the wet earth in the greenhouse}

I looked up radishes online and found out that they are actually really nutritious and under-appreciated in that way. Radishes are rich in ascorbic acid, folic acid, and potassium. They are a good source of vitamin B6, riboflavin, magnesium, copper, and calcium. So they're pretty power-packed, not to mention they're the type of veggie to fill you up on fiber and water. Needless to say, I was both excited to start cooking them and promising myself that I would never look down on the red roots again.

So I started chopping the radishes up with some broccoli and cilantro I had on hand and I started to realize that the color scheme of my meal reminded me of someone:

I have never seen the Hulk movies, but I absolutely LOVE Mark Ruffalo's Bruce Banner, and his portrayal makes me want to watch the other Hulk movies even though I know he's not in them. 

So this stir-fry is named in his honor.

So you chop up as many radishes as you can, and lots of broccoli and cilantro. If I'd had some I would have put in some chopped up green bell peppers as well (next time). 

But you put that into a pan with a tiny amount of olive oil. Once you'e tossed them a bit, add soy sauce, salt, garlic powder, pepper, chopped dried onion, a pinch of chili powder, about a tablespoon of Dijon mustard, and a few swirls of your favorite hot sauce (If you know me, you can probably guess I used Sriracha). 

{It should end up looking like this}

Then just toss it around until everything is cooked and well-blended. 

The nice thing about this stir-fry, apart from the fact that it has radishes and is related to The Avengers, is that it can be completely and totally vegetarian, or not, depending on who you're making it for. I chose not to, because on the rainy day I made this, eating it over chicken rice-a-roni sounded great.

{So that's what I did}

But, if you wanted, you could use plain rice or noodles, or I suppose just eat the vegetables if you're into that sort of thing. Either way, you shouldn't be hungry.

I'm honestly think I might try to do a meal or dessert based on each of the Avengers...possible inspiration!!

Black Widow's Black Forest cake?

All-American Berry Cobbler?

Iron Man/Stark Steak Sandwich?

Hiddled Hidden Mischief stuffed chicken breast?

Shakespeare in the Park punch?

Mjolnir Muffins?

Barton's Breakfast Burritos?

Stay tuned, there is no way my fascination with this movie is waning!

Letter to Me #1--Lindsey in 4th grade

Dear fourth grade me,
    I'm you! From the future! Isn't that great? You probably think this is REALLY cool, I certainly would. (Well, obviously) But you aren't even anxious or worried as to why on earth I'm here, I know the worry would certainly cross MY mind (but I've seen more sci-fi than you have, yet).
    You probably have a million questions for me, I know I would. But I'm not going to tell you everything. You'll learn about why you can't cross into or edit a fixed point in time about ten years from now, from a nice Scottish man in a British accent (yes, we DO do that rather well for our age, everyone DOES say so, I know...it's going to come in handy later, I promise. You'll find out middle of your senior year).
    But here are a few things I want to tell you:

1) We get to actually live in Sanpete County:

I know! I know, it DOES sound like a nice place to live and you ARE terribly interested to visit now you've done your county report on it (You're going to miss it when Mrs. Dance brings out the brown recorders, but who cares).

Well, you, or rather I, but I guess we, end up working for the local newspaper. Yes, just like Lois Lane. Surprisingly, that joke will get old. But it will never completely lose its flavor, especially since we share initials with her (just realized that at work today).

{Between getting mugged or captured, she was an EXCELLENT reporter}

{And, yes, that's why Phyllis Coates is still our favorite Lois; because that's how she rolled}

We live in an apartment with three other lovely girls who are some of the best roomies ever. We have lots of friends, eat locally raised Turkeys, have seen the Manti pageant, and can call ourselves a local. And that is a rather odd sentence.

And it's better than we could have ever imagined.

2) You really shouldn't care so much what people think.

You are entirely too young for it.

I wish I'd realized that when I was you. I'm so sorry.

Plus, it will only get worse and bite us in the butt come high school. That's what will really ruin our school-age chances with guys.

You will notice that the girls who get guys are the confident ones. And your few, gleaming times with guys before college will be because you are confident around them.

I am the last person anyone might expect to say this, but it truly doesn't matter what others think of you more  than what you think of you. 

3) It really doesn't matter when you don't win the spelling bee. 

Yours is the last year it really gets done, you KNOW you can spell circles around the class, and you do stuff which is more important anyway, like trying to think of what people really want for birthdays or when they're sick--much more important than spelling, and you do both better than I do.

And, as you will realize when you watch your first episode of psych, that's not really (y)our scene anyway.

4) You will have to get braces again.

But I promise it's legitimately going to be ok. We enunciate better and our teeth are freaking gorgeous!

5) Don't cringe too much in few years when you look back.

Yes, I admit, already we have had some cringe-worthy moments. But everyone loves us as we are. All those wonderful people who write things like "don't ever change" in our yearbooks really mean it. Not just because they need us to laugh at (although heaven knows some of them do need it sorely), but because they genuinely enjoy the fact that we are opinionated, zany, and argumentative. We add needed color to the social scene. And they love us for it. That girl who reduces us to tears at Freedom Elementary (no, it is not that exciting a school as you think it will be) is just jealous (probably) and very wrong (definitely).

And someday all the old-fashioned things we love will come into fashion and Mom will have to buy it. So take some comfort in that.

6) Boys are jerks. Well not all of them, but even the jerks make us better.

The one who breaks up with us over an answering machine teaches us both the comforting value of Chinese food and the fallibility of the Backstreet Boys. And we learn that any boy that breaks up with us over our beliefs is simply not worth it.

The baseball fanatic teaches us how awfully fickle they can be, their overall stupidity, and how easy it is to run into someone you desperately wish to avoid. But he also teaches us that we can do better, and that hiding in the history classroom is no way to break up with someone.

The one from seminary teaches us just how wrong we can be about people sometimes and to not let a man break a friendship, especially before a dear friend moves. Not worth it.

Our first date teaches us how the whole dating thing works, and convinces us we will not be alone forever.

The one we pine after for a year teaches us that we have a thing for the edgy ones, it cannot be denied, but sometimes we are spared our heart's desire for a good reason.

The one we find after Europe (the third Europe) teaches us that some things really never end--even if they do go through a really unique metamorphosis. This boy is like metamorphic rock, think of it that way.

The first two in college teach us that you can't judge a book by its cover, and that goes both ways. I would warn you away from them, but it REALLY is something we need to learn.

The one after that teaches us what we deserve.

Beyond him I have no idea, and I've left some out so it's all new for you.

7) Let yourself chase your dreams.

We are too squeamish to be medical. Yes, Dad is so proud of Michelle for being a lawyer and thinks we'd be good at it.

But is that what we want?

You know how much we love making up stories (even though that one about the haunted portrait in the abandoned mansion on a craggy island needs serious work)? Keep it up.

Because in four years we are going to sit up in bed and fall completely in love with it when we realize we can really sit there and make up stories, like we always do for Mom, and be paid for it.

We are going to be amazing when we grow up. See you in ten years!

Love you, you/me.

Why this Weekend just might be the end of the world as I know it

Hello World!

No, I have not died and regenerated into a pessimist, if the title has made you question that. And there is a legit reason I haven't posted at all, and I'll explain that later.

My life is just...interesting...right now.

Here's why I think this weekend might just be the end of my world:

(A) I started reading The Hunger Games.

Yes, I started reading them even after I vowed I was not going to get swept up in "that hype."

But then my cousin who's not a reader liked them.

{Maddie and I are just about as close as you can be, even though I look stoned here}

And then Josh Hutcherson and Liam Hemsworth had to be so freakin' gorgeous. In about ten thousand photoshoots my friends graciously posted on Pinterest.

I really wish I could get these on the same line. 

{Oh well, they're still hot}

And then I thought it was awesome that josh went and adopted that puppy and was adorable with it.

Not even fair.

And then I saw this video and got interested.

And THEN, Mal graciously let me borrow her super-special-awesome paperback boxed set.

Yeah, when I say I've "started" them, I mean I work 8-hour days and I'm already on the first couple pages of Mockingjay now.

I mean Paige, my lovely roomie now that I live in Ephraim to intern at the Sanpete Messenger (more about my new roomie and new job in following posts), came home from school and startled me an intense part of the first book.

I mean I now check Mean Girls of Panem EVERY FREAKING DAY when I come home from work because I laugh so hard at the combination of Mean Girls and the Hunger Games. After Catching Fire, it ALL makes such perfect, hilarious sense.

To all my friends who love this series:

There. I'm hooked. Are you happy now?

(B) I took my first sick/working at home day and realized that I am probably the most un-productive cold sufferer EVER.

I just sit on the couch and drink lemonade.

It's like when I get sick, the fatigue just turns off my brain's let's-get-spit-done centers and fills it with apathy zombies.

Which is why I am taking it easy so I can get better and be awesome on Monday, getting back to the normally proactive, get-spit-done person I normally am at work.

(C) Grooveshark was down for a few hours and I thought it would be for much longer. I hate to be a drama queen, and I was going to go on this huge moan-fest about the site being down (HOW AM I GOING TO LIVE ALL WEEKEND?) BUT I just checked and it's back online!! Thank you tech wizards who keep websites alive for reviving my music I.V. so I can get on to my NEXT item without losing all sanity.

(D) Technically I was supposed to write more for the paper than I have while I've been sick but NOBODY is giving me anything to work with. Yay. Plus the whole unproductive-because-of-sickness thing. I'll try to get one more thing done before I move on to the NEXT item on my list.

(E) I thought I had passed the mark of "If you say you don't want to be called as such-and-such then that's EXACTLY what you'll be called to!" For two years I have been saying "please please PLEASE don't call me to teach Gospel Doctrine!" And in three different BYU wards and a Roy singles' ward, it didn't happen. So I REALLY thought I was safe now.

Not really.

My friend Ben, well, I call him Spartacus but he's Ben, knocked on my door the other day.

He needed someone to cover for him. So GUESS WHO's teaching Mosiah 18-24 tomorrow?

Yeah. That would be me. Ugh. I hate teaching. I hate and I've never done it, because I already know I'll be rubbish at it.

But now my lesson is planned and, oh look, besides sneaking in a Monty Python reference ("that's the violence inherent in the system...you see him repressing me?") I realized that King Noah's society is like Panem under the Capitol. But that's another story for another Sunday.

Because there's a story this Sunday that demands my full attention, which leads me to:

(F) Reichenbach. 

That's right. This little Sherlockian has been biting her nails (metaphorically, I never got what was comforting about it in real life) all weekend because the season finale of Sherlock is on this Sunday. Masterpiece Mystery is awesome, and I'm proud of myself for NOT watching it on an illegal website before it came to PBS in America.

{I know, right? I'm proud of me too! And I'm just as surprised as you are, Benedict, you cheeky man!}

(That's not me saying that we should still get it later than Britain...because I think we should get it on BBC America at the same time as British fans like we get Doctor Who the same time as they do--it's even written by the same man, Stephen Moffatt, so there's not even bound to be an issue there. We even care as much as the British fans WHAT A NOVEL CONCEPT!!!!!!!!!)

{That's what we DO!!!!!!!!!!}

(Ok. I'm done with all-caps sarcasm for today. I'm sorry. It's just the pre-Reichenbach stress, I swear.)

I am FREAKING OUT!!!!! OK????!?!?!!??

The worst part of it all is, I know, I just KNOW, that I'll be going over the episode every night after it. WHY?? Because Stephen Moffat, the king of Trolls, has looked at the Reichenbach theories on the internet and says there's some vital clue everyone's missed. 

So when I'm not at work, I'll be closeted in my room with food receiving no visitors and going nowhere except FHE. 

So this will be me. In my mind palace, obsessing and fangirling over something that probably shouldn't occupy my Sunday, but I've been SUCH a good girl for waiting it to air legally, AND I'm teaching Gospel Doctrine even though I don't desperately want to. 

And then I'll go back to my idea of posting spiritual things on Sunday. At least until Downton Abbey returns, and then Sunday posts are fair game.

The Pierce Brosnan Look

Anyone who has seen his Bond movies or the Remington Steele series knows the look I'm talking about:

{I took this myself from Hulu because Google didn't have the look in the polished one I was looking for}

That look that he can give a girl where it looks like he thinks she's the greatest thing in the world. That is why we all really love Pierce Brosnan. Don't get me wrong, the good looks, dark hair, and blue eyes--not to mention the dreamy accent--do not hurt a thing. At all. Remotely.

But that isn't what really earns Daniel Craig's predecessor his dreamboat status. It's THAT look, in all its variations, that really makes us swoon.

 

 

Here's the best Google had of That Look. And, yes, I was being picky, so deal with it.

The sad thing is, I wouldn't have realized this, ever. EXCEPT:

1. I see him give Stephanie Zimbalist's character, Laura Holt, that look a LOT on Remington Steele, my newest TV obsession.

2. A conversation I had whilst tying a quilt.

My mom and I went and did our ward's service day this morning. She strung backpacks, and I learned a little something about tying quilts. 

I was working with Melanie Olney, who I had known of in our ward but never really talked to much. In fact, until I found that she, too, loved Remington Steele, I had never imagined we'd have a conversation like two old friends, which is what ended up happening.

We were talking about how the best thing in the world is when a guy treats you right and how important my Mom always taught me that was. I told her about this guy who treats me like I'm special, like I'm the most special thing in the world. 

"And, to him, you are," she said.

Guys of the world, PLEASE attend:

Study that Pierce Brosnan look. Learn it, and when you think a girl is truly the best thing, use it on her. Don't hold back because you're afraid of getting hurt. ANY girl worth her salt who gets that look will be affected.

Girls of the world, THIS part is for you:

Someday you will find a guy to love who gives you that look every day. You will make some nice man's life beyond complete and he will show it by flashing you that Brosnan-like charming smile at the moments you least expect it.

Every woman deserves that smile. 

"Only Dull People are Brilliant at Breakfast"

One of my favorite Oscar Wilde Quotes ever:

---Oscar Wilde

It gives me hope about not being a morning person. I never have been, and this morning was no different. It might not have been so bad, but I had a delayed allergic reaction to the flora of Rock Canyon from an adventure last night--more details to come--and I woke up beyond miserable after five hours of sleep. My muscles were sore from my adventure the previous night and I felt beyond ill. 

As I struggled for the energy to finish moving, I wondered "Is this what the people in the 5-hour-energy commercials feel like?"

Thankfully, I am not so stupid as to buy that rot. And I guess it means I'll sleep better tonight. 

I got a little bit short with my mother, which made me feel awful. But we both know how hard it is to be perfectly nice when you're tired.

Zooey Deschanel gets it.

I had further struggles when my Mom decided we were going to get up to drive back home at the crack of before dawn. 

So if I have ever been unpleasant during the morning towards anyone reading this, consider it an apology. I would call it an excuse, but my Mom doesn't sleep much better than I do, and I swear her internal clock is set for New York City. On any given day, it is almost certain she'll have been up for three hours before I'm awake.

But that's ok. Why? Because I am a night owl, which means that, at any given time, one of us is on the top of her game. And even though we don't do a lot of things the same way, even though it was hard for us to communicate sometimes, we want the same things and we love each other as mom-and-daughter should.

And maybe someday I'll be like Sutton Foster as Princess Fiona in THIS little number from Shrek:

{My Mom caught me singing this once, said "What?!?" and I called it wishful thinking}

Procrastinators Exist! And Other Finals Week Life Lessons

I don't know why, but this week I somehow managed to convince myself that I was the only one in my feature writing class to procrastinate our final article. This, among other things, led to all sorts of self-doubt about my abilities as a writer.

{This is just about how I get at the end of every finals week}

And so I thought "What if I really am a rubbish writer and that feeling wasn't just burnout from last semester? What if I never get published again? What if my novels or other books never sell? What if I end up a total failure with no job, no life, no nothing?"

Then I realized several things:

Finals Week is NOT the time to make a decision about your future, fate or destiny. You're tired, so far beyond done with everything, and under a lot of pressure to keep chugging on despite that. Wait a good week after it's all over to ask yourself the probing, deep, soul-searching questions. Down time during spring and summer is a marvelous opportunity for contemplation and healing.

 I am not the only one in my class to have procrastinated the article. My lovely friend Alex works in the post office of the BYU Bookstore, so Hailey and I met here when we posted a letter to our friend Elder Tay in Fiji. It was then that I learned she hadn't even started the article, when I actually have my lead and first section figured out. Apparently everyone in class is just better at faking confidence and preparedness than me--those closest to me do say I have a dreadful poker face. There is nothing shameful in procrastinating; nobody actively tries to procrastinate, because we'd all like to have the thing over and done with so we don't have to worry about it anymore. Sometimes, we all succumb to Action Anxiety in which we fear to do something and so we avoid it. 90% of the times I have procrastinated in my life, this is why. And that's ok, because I always get it done in the end.

I am not a rubbish writer. Stuff is coming together, I am simply burned out.

 And that's ok. Because even though it isn't the monstrosity Fall was, it wore me out. I have a lot to deal with and I am doing my best. As we would have said in German, back when I still took German, alles gute. 

Even if I were to wake up one morning and suddenly hate writing, I'd find something else to do. That's the great thing about being unpicky and eclectic--we like almost everything under the sun. And I really need to stop freaking out about the fact that my patriarchal blessing--and my inner circle--keeps bringing up the idea of me teaching. If teaching is in store for me--which, to be honest, I think I'd be the most rubbish teacher--then the Lord will put the opportunity in my path and I'll know it when it comes along. That's the great thing about putting our lives in the Lord's hands: he'll take care of things as long as we're righteous. So we really don't have to worry about it. 

I am going to have a nice, warm vacation, where I can reconnect with myself and get back to worrying about what's most important for me. It will be a time of self-care, rediscovery, and healing.

Mr. VanEerden, or Mr. V,  my sixth-grade teacher, used to end his rather useful tangents in class by calling them "Life Lessons." So, anytime my experiences produce random profundities, I think of them as "Life Lessons" in his honor.

 So, I won't be doing much on here in the next few days--my trend article and the other thousand things for me to do over the next few days take priority--but I hope to post lots of new content from the airport and Las Vegas!