Eating curry. Yum!


Last Friday I went to this really cool bridal shower. It was "ballywood" and we were supposed to dress up. My dear friend, Emily, loaned me an outfit that was perfect for the occasion, and while I was racing home after picking up Corky from work and trying to hurry to the get the venue, I decided I needed make-up. Lots of make-up. And, since Corky is really good at applying make-up, and loves to do my make-up, I acquiesed. He loved it, and I ended up with a lot of make-up, and nearly won a "best dressed" prize. It was between me and one other lady, but she looked awesome in a sari that was purchased from India, and it was beautiful, and I thought she should win. So while she was pointing to me, I pointed to her, and I guess I pointed more forcefully, so she got the prize. But don't think I'm pouting about that, I'm glad. I loved the party, the outfit, and the make-up. But you know what I really loved? Helping my friend.



A couple of days before the shower, I got a call from my friend Sam who said, remember when you volunteered to help make refreshments for the shower? Would you help? Well, strangely enough--my kids wouldn't say it was strange because I'm constantly forgetting things--I don't remember having that conversation at all. But I didn't tell her that. I just listened, and they (she and the other gal in charge) needed help. So I helped. She suggested cupcakes, and I had a couple of other ideas, so we talked, chose what we wanted and made it.



We got together Friday morning and made tarts. I made the pie dough and we used little tart pans, you know, like muffin tins, but tiny. We didn't fill them until that night, but we used lemon pie filling and cherry pie filling. And of course, we used one of the nifty cans of whipped cream to put a creamy garnish of goodness on top. They were pretty. I have glass trays that show things off nicely--wedding presents, of course. And we made lemon bundt cake. Now I've only ever eaten it just like it is, but Sam suggested the berry sauce and some more whipped cream. Lovely. Just lovely. It was pretty and delicious. This is Corky's favorite cake and I know he wouldn't go for the fruity stuff added, but I loved it. And so did eveyone else. It was beautiful and delectable. I would defintely serve it like that again. We didn't use the canned cream this time--I whipped up the real stuff. So good. And Sam loved me becuase she was going to work on the berry sauce and cook it and add sugar, etc., etc. Are you kidding me? Just make the Danish Dessert and add the berries. So easy. (Yes, later she told me she loved me for that tip.) And we made punch. Lemonade, limeade and sprite. Terrific punch. I have a pretty punch bowl--a great $12 DI find. It came with tons of glass cups inside, the kind that go with the little glass trays. But at the bottom were the cups that matched the bowl, and they hang over the side. Bonus.



I got some strange looks when people first saw me--I never wear that much make-up. We all laughed--I wouldn't have done it if men had been at the party, but then we probably wouldn't have had a belly dancer come either. Holy cow, she was adorable! I loved watching her dance. She was so graceful and to put it simply, beautiful. I want that body! But even more than that, I'd love to be graceful and be able to move like she did. Wow. It was fun to watch her, and it was fun to watch people watching her. Everyone was enjoying it. I know there were some people invited who fussed about having a belly dancer, but they evidently didn't know how she'd be (and I think they didn't come, either, so they're probably still throwing fits). Totally tasteful and appropriate. We all even got to try. NO--I can't do it. But yes, I did get out there and try. Gratefully nobody took video of my efforts, but we did get some photos of my awesome make-up. You'll probably never see me like this again, so take a good look!







Wow, I think all that make-up makes me look really old--shows all the wrinkles. But, the lipstick stayed all night. How about that? My eyes were watering all night long, too, from the eyeliner. How do people wear all that stuff every day? I do love the earrings--from Emily, of course. She sells Paparazzi jewelry and had a ton of stuff to choose from. Thanks! I thought I had some "big" and dangly earrings, but these are dangly. I think I'm starting a new look for myself. With the earrings, that is.

It was a great night. And, I haven't even really talked about the shower. It was for a darling girl who grew up in our ward. Her mom passed away when this girl was only 12, so that was along time ago. She practically raised her little brother. But now her dad is getting remarried and moving in with the new wife, so this girl gets the house--her missionary got home a couple of months ago and now they're getting married. They met in Seminary in 10th grade. How fun is that? And so we get to keep her in our ward--nice because we all love her! We were all actually bawling at the shower because when she opened our gift, we told something about her. And of course, they were all sweet, tender-hearted things. I've never cried like that at a shower before. But it was very wonderful. I hope she felt loved. Isn't that what it's really all about?

And my friend, well she knew I loved her since I helped (even though I didn't remember offering previously), and I felt loved because I knew I was needed--and it was appreciated. She told me she knew that she could call me any time and I would help. That was a great compliment, and that's the kind of friend I've always wanted to be. I don't think I always see the need when it's there, but I'm glad someone feels like they can ask. It's taken a long time to attain that status here. We've lived in this ward for 13-1/2 years, and sometimes I feel like I'm just beginning to belong. Belonging is good.

I’m excited I got to go swimming a Nat-Soo-Pah again. That place has so many memories for me—it really makes me think of my childhood. I remember almost drowning there, for starters. Actually, what I remember is my mom pulling me out of the pool. She had already gone and changed her clothes, so she jumped in fully clothed to get me. There was a kind of a grate or drain thing where I was playing and my toes got stuck and under I went. I don’t know if I blacked out or what, but I really don’t remember that. Thanks Mom! I remember always getting a treat at their counter—the really long ropes of that wonderful thick red licorice. I think that was probably the only time we ever got that. I remember swimming and sometime my mom was in the pool, but I really remember her sitting in the shade reading a book. But it was a comfort to look up and see her. They have a great slide there—it seemed so big to me. It was curvy and I think a tube. I remember my dad waiting to catch me at the bottom. It was always so strange to see him in a swimming suit, bare-chested. He had such a farmer’s tan—he was totally white where his shirt was and really, really tan on his arms and neck. He had muscles! I loved it when he’d throw me up into the air and I’d splash down in the water. Oh, and it was warm water because it’s a mineral hot springs. We’d generally take a picnic lunch or dinner, whichever it was. I think sometimes my mom took us during the day when dad was at work, and that’s why I only remember her for those times. But I loved it when they both swam with us.

One of the things I loved was changing back into my regular clothes. I know that sounds weird because that also meant the fun was over, but we’d had a day full and I knew that we’d come back. When you get out of really warm water, you’re wet and any breeze makes you really cold. We went into these really old (can’t wait to see them now) dressing rooms that had wooden painted benches with cloth curtains. Different years they were painted different colors. But when I put on my street clothes, I felt so warm, and safe. Years later after I’d been to the temple for the first time and was putting on my new undies, I had that same feeling and was transported back to the dressing room at Nat-Soo-Pah. I experienced that same warm and safe feeling.

And a few years after that, I took Corky to Nat-Soo-Pah to meet my parents. They were there on a ward campout and we came up for the weekend. Labor Day weekend. We had stopped in Bountiful to get peaches for my mom from her favorite peach lady, Sister Ellis, and then went to Twin Falls to drop them off. I got my first kiss from Corky in our backyard. He tells the story differently than I do, but nonetheless, that’s where it happened. We at least agree on that part. Then we drove to Nat-Soo-Pah. I don’t know if they left directions, because I certainly couldn’t tell you how to get there now. Don’t think I could have then, either. That was the first time we had chicken from Albertsons—it was good. Corky and Uncle Chad stayed out in a tent and I slept in the camper with my parents. I really wanted to be out there—they were talking and having fun. I was just a tad bit jealous.

I remember birthday parties at Nat-Soo-Pah, too. One in particular, we drove out in the back of our neighbor’s camper—it was loaded with girls. I think we were probably about 13. They were really into trying to do a séance, but that really scared me. One of the things they said was, “if you are there, show a red light.” Right then the driver put on his brakes, and of course we were at the back of the camper and could see the brake lights. Everyone screamed! I remember I just kept praying—no, don’t do it! Help us not see any spirits. It really scared me. But after the red-light experience, they all stopped and moved on to something else, so I was glad. I think it was on that same trip that I first saw maggots in some meat. Yuck.

All in all, I have good memories of swimming at Nat-Soo-Pah. For me it was kind of like going down to the Falls—even though tons of people went to both of those places, they still belonged to us. I’m glad to be going there.

Wow, that was a lot of reminiscing. Sorry about that! But I had fun . . .

So how sad is this that I tried to log in to my blog and couldn't remember what email I had it under? Hmm, I think that's a hint that it's been way too long since I last wrote. I have thought about it a few times, but kept thinking--well I don't really have time to write and do justice to that story, or I simply didn't want to write that day, or really truly didn't have much time. And now, I don't. Have time that is. I have a couple of minutes, but that's it.

Whew!

Summer. We're smack in the middle of it. And it hasn't been that bad. I have had many days where I've complained about the heat, but then I look at the thermometer and it's only 88 or 93 or something crazy like that. This hasn't been a hot summer, but seriously, I have still felt the sun burning on my skin. I know that's lame compared to Anna in Texas where they are baking in front of the air conditioner, but I am not a hot weather person. I have said many times that I'd be great in Montana where they have about 8 days of summer. You know in winter you can add as many layers as you want, but in the heat, you can only take off so much without people calling the police.

Moni decided not to work at Scout Camp this summer, and she's happy. It was a stressful time thinking about giving up a job when you don't have another one, but things worked out. I happened to drive by the pool in Magna and they said they were hiring lifeguards and swimming teachers (to be called WSI--Water Safety Instructors--who knew?), and she took the classes and got the jobs. She loves it! I don't even know why I drove by there because it's not by anything where I normally go, but evidently I was supposed to see that sign for her. I tried to get her to do this for the last two years, but she always refused to be in a swimming suit all summer and at the pool. Now she loves it. I've bought her 3 suits this summer. I figured I would have spent that much getting her ready for camp and the treats she took each week, so it's okay. I do have to feed her all summer though. . .

Dante has been to one week-long scout camp this summer and is headed to a 3-day next week. He loves it. He got to do Aviation, Small Boat Sailing, Shotgun and Geocaching. Geochacing? Really? That's a merit badge? Don't you just wander around and look for stuff? Then Uncle Lynn came over and invited Dante to go with him to do Horsemanship. He was really excited about that because they offered that at camp (but he chose Aviation) and the boys there didn't get to ride very much. He got to ride quite a bit with Uncle Lynn. They even spent the night in the horse pasture. Well that's certainly a dream come true, isn't it? You should have seen his clothes when he got home. They'd stepped in mud up to their knees--I soaked his clothes. Put them through a prewash with two rinses, then did a long wash and two rinses again. His sock still look bad. At least his jeans were black to start with. But he came home happy. That's worth a pair of pants, right?

Okay, time's up for now. I promise I'll get back to life here. I have missed reading about everyone else, although I have peeked now and then at your lives!

Okay so yeah, I realize Christmas is over and I didn't write anything at all about it. Wasn't exactly sure where to begin--the jammies that were huge, the moldy ham, the wonderful 3-hour phone call from my missionary. . .

I wrote before that I loved sewing and was excited to make jammies. Perhaps I should have started with a measuring tape. That's good advice, so take it to heart. I think I'm always so paranoid that I'll make something too small, and I love to have the kids wear their jammies for more than one year, and even though some aren't really growing that much any more, some are and I want to plan accordingly. However, I guess I thought my kids were huge because I made huge pajamas. But they didn't complain, just laughed.







I always always take pictures of the kids in their new pajamas on Christmas Eve, and I did, but someone deleted them off the camera. I can't figure that out. Were they that huge? I guess they were. Evidently someone didn't like they way they looked in their oversized pjs. Yeah, that must have been it.

Okay, so for the ham. We found a ham several years ago that we absolutely loved. And no, every ham is not created equal. Don't let anyone tell you that because it simply isn't true. We've tried others. Hillshire Farms brown sugar cured is the very best. It's pricey, but wonderful. And because it's pricey, we've had a harder time every year trying to find one. Corky runs all over town to find our perfect ham. It's kind of like looking for that perfect tree in the woods with the light shining down on it just calling your name. That's our ham. But alas, nobody stocked them this year. I even called the company to find out who might possibly have one--nobody in the valley. They named a couple of stores in Bountiful and I was actually eady to drive to Bountiful to buy a ham. You might think it's silly, and perhaps it is, but I would have done it. But it was a moot point--I called, they didn't carry Hillshire Farms this year.

So, we bought the beautiful ham wrapped in beautiful purple foil. Purple's good, right? I had myself totally psyched that this would be a great ham and we'd all be happy eating our perfect Christmas dinner using our Christmas plates set on the tablecloth with the poinsettias, drinking red sparkly punch out of the goblets--of course it would be wonderful!

But first, we had a great phone call from Taylor, well, that's backwards, we called him. He had called us the week before (that kind of cracks me up) to give us the phone number where to call him. He also emailed it. So he called on his birthday to give us information we already had. But hey, it was his birthday. And we kept that one short.

He talked and talked. He told us about his companion, the mission, how happy he was. He didn't want to hang up at all. They were in the church and his companion had to prepare a talk for the next day, and they had already had their meal with a family and didn't really have anything else to do. His companion's family wasn't calling for quite a while, so we talked, and talked and talked. We asked every question we'd ever thought of, and more. Then he got into the "okay ask me how to say something in Portuguese." That was truly filler, but it was making him happy.

Taylor wasn't homesick, but happy to hear our voices. At the end he bore his testimony and urged us to be faithful. He plead with us to pray and read our scriptures. The words that stuck with me are "if you don't do the things you're supposed to, then there's no reason for me to be here." He's right. What would be the point. But then, I think that's kind of why we sent him, because we are trying to do what's right.

I would say the overall feeling that I got from Taylor describing him and his mission was "contentment." I love that. He's happy where he is and with what he's doing. I'm so glad. Makes it so much easier for a mom to know that her child is happy.

So then, I took a little snooze. There was no way I was going to be able to cook dinner and keep my eyes open. After my nap, I decided to get ready for dinner. The ham in the beautiful purple foil was calling to me. It didn't exactly have a light shining from heaven, but I do like purple. I got things started and got my timing right so everything would come out "done" at the same time, and then I unwrapped the best part of our dinner. There was a little white lump on the side and I figured it was a bit of fat or something, you know, that happens. So I chunked it off with my finger and tossed that. Then I got a weird smell, and dismissed it. This was Christmas ham!

As I picked up the ham, ready to put it in the pan, there was a small piece hanging down that was in the way, so I decided--this is pre-cooked ham, I'm going to eat it. Oh my gosh. Moldy! It was so disgusting. Then I looked closer. The white lumps--not fat, mold. Green mold right by the hangy-down piece. I was ill. And that taste--I didn't know ham even got moldy. Certainly it goes bad, but not moldy.

I ran to the bathroom and brushed and brushed--my teeth, my tongue, the roof of my mouth. I'm cringing now remembering. Sick. (Ew. I just shuddered.)

So, decision time. Pre-cooked ham only takes about an hour or so to cook. So either we eat the rest of the stuff; rolls, yams, potatoes and no gravy; make pancakes or cook the frozen roast I found in the freezer. Which would take at least 3 hours. I let the kids vote and they chose frozen roast. So we had our Christmas ham-less dinner at about 7 p.m. That's very late for us, but it was okay. We talked about how grateful we were for dinner. And actually, I think it was pretty good. It wasn't ham, and I'm not sure when I'll be able to eat ham again, and never, ever will I choose one in a pretty purple foil wrapper.

So, the moral(s) to this story--measure your kids and the patterns, and check for mold. Those little chunks may not be fat. Smell, don't taste, look for unwanted green and white fur on your ham. Keep a roast in your freezer for just-in-case.