General Conference

This weekend is General Conference, which, for many reasons, is the time I seem to feel the most homesick.

My family has several traditions with General Conference, and the one I miss most is "Girl's Night." My mom and sister and I used to all get together during the Priesthood session, get Chinese take-out, and watch chick-flicks. The other sessions, we would spend back and forth between my family and Dale's family. It was a good time to be together enjoying each others' company.

Here in Cali, things are different. We watch conference on the computer (hooray for live streaming!), and when my man goes to Priesthood session, I'm left home alone. I got Chinese food the first time (he had a men's only pot-luck), but it was so disappointing, I didn't do it again. (I haven't found any really awesome Chinese food out here yet.)

And now, it's upon us again. I miss you, Mom and Dad and sis and bro-on-a-mission, as well as my mom-in-law, dad-in-law, bros-in-law, and sis-in-law (etc.).

Ode to My Peach

Oh, fuzzy friend,

how I await you every fall!

I select you lovingly

from among your friends,

then take you home,

and bathe you tenderly.

Your red and yellow skin

hints at the flesh within!

The first bite--heaven,

Juices, running down my chin.

But, too soon, you're gone,

leaving only a dark, wrinkled pit behind.

Magic

Moms are magic. There's no other explanation! How else could my mom, from two states away, have done the following?

1. Given me sympathy and advice for my backache
2. Helped do the dishes
3. Made me feel awesome for having said dishes done (!)

See? Magic. I don't know if the magic was an innate ability that blossomed when she had children or if it was something that came with the eyes on the back of her head when we were born, but it's pretty awesome!

Thank you, Mommee!!!

Also, thanks to my wonderful husband who has been fixing food and caring for me and helping me while I've been mostly laying about. You're wonderful, honey!!

If it's not one thing...

So, last week, I had a nastybad cold. I couldn't breathe, which meant I also couldn't sleep. Or think. Or eat. Plus I just felt nasty.

Well, I finally got feeling better, and had to catch up on all the housework that I was unable to do while I was laying on the couch feeling sorry for myself. I did the dishes a little at a time while I started feeling better, I made cookies for the 11-year-old boy scouts, and I even made six loaves of bread--4 of which are pretty loaves of dough in my freezer at the moment.

So, yesterday, while my man was at work, I decided I was going to surprise him with all I would manage to do. I sorted the laundry, which I was going to do when he got home and I had the car (since he had class). I did all the dishes that were left. I put things away. I cleaned the counters, the stove (including all the removable parts of the burners), and the microwave. I put the rug in the laundry. Things were going well, and I was going to have time to spare before my guy got home, where I'd do other awesome wife-y things.

Then, I started to sweep the floor.

That, apparently, was my downfall. I started to sweep and felt a little twinge in my back. "Ow..." I thought, and kept sweeping. Then... "OW!" More pain. I bent over to pick up a pushpin from the floor... and could hardly stand up. I tried once again to sweep (I was DETERMINED to get that floor swept), and had to give up. I put the broom away (for some odd reason), left the pile of dirt on the floor (there was NO WAY it was going to get taken care of at that point), and painfully made my way into the living room. After a sad attempt to get onto the futon, I managed to lower myself onto the floor in a somewhat laying-down position. I was able to text my man to inform him that I'd need some major help when he got home (as well as a major dose of ibuprofen), and the remote was within reach, so I watched some Dr. Phil while I waited for him to get off work.

So, I'm still in pain. I'm still dosed with ibuprofen. I'm still laying on the futon. My man was wonderful enough to make dinner the last two days, help me do the laundry today (it hurts to bend over or lift anything), and is making me lay on the couch until I get better. (Not that that last part is hard--it's about the only position that doesn't hurt a ton.) I'm sure church tomorrow is going to be interesting--three hours of sitting, two of that on a hard piano bench. Yikes. (Maybe I should take a pillow... would that be weird?)

I still have no idea what I did to myself. All I can figure is housework is dangerous! I should probably never clean the kitchen again, just in case.

The Flames! The Flames!

We recently got a little gas grill from Walmart for $25. We've cooked some cheap steaks on it a couple times, and decided that we'd use it to cook something a little different: Chicken. We had some chicken leg quarters in the freezer, which we thought would be yummy grilled, so I got to work. Dale set up the grill, and we warmed it up, then I put the chicken on and turned down the heat. 10 minutes later, I looked out the door onto our porch and saw... flames. Uh-oh!

I thought at first that they wouldn't be too bad, maybe just some small flare-ups. Then I opened the grill. AAAH! As my man rushed to help, I hurriedly turned off the gas, then got the tongs and a pie plate. He carefully removed the charred chicken from the flames into the pie plate, which helped the flames considerably. We then closed the grill and waited. It didn't take long for the flames to go out completely.

While we waited for the grill to be "safe," we thought over this a little. I think it had to do with several things:

1. Our grill has one burner. There is no such thing as "indirect heat."
2. The "drip pan" is actually the bottom of the grill, so the fat from our steaks added with the fat of the bone-in, skin-on chicken made a bad combination.
3. I apparently need to clean out the grill after EVERY use.

Luckily, we didn't have to use the nearby fire extinguisher. The flames died out fairly quickly by themselves, and (other than some peeling paint on the outside) the grill seems fine.

While we let the grill finish cooling, we went to Burger King for dinner. It was nice--no flames.

Cooking Troubles

So, I wanted to make some carrot cupcakes (even though my husband thought it sounded odd). I had a cake mix, I had pre-made cream-cheese frosting (it cost about as much as buying cream cheese), so we decided to do it on Sunday. We borrowed a cupcake pan from my cousins who live down the street, and started getting out the ingredients. Cake mix--check. Vegetable oil--check. Water--check check. 3 eggs-- *facepalm*. We only had 2 eggs.

Well, that put an end to that plan. So, I figured I'd just make them Monday, while my man was in class. I went to the store and bought eggs and milk, then returned home and pulled out the ingredients. Cake mix, oil, water, 3 eggs... all good. Time to line the pans! I pulled out my cupcake papers and... only 15 papers. The cake mix makes 24 cupcakes. *doublefacepalm*

Off to the store again. I hoped I could just walk down to Walgreens and get some... but no luck there. So, I walked back home and got in the car, drove to the grocery store, and got some papers. Drove home, made the cupcakes, and cooked them.

They're now cooling. They better be worth all this trouble!

Jesus Said Love Everyone...

I'd like to tell two stories I saw on the news about different Christian preachers.

Preacher #1:

Wanted to burn several copies of the Koran, the Muslim holy book, in "remembrance of 9/11." He also said "Islam is the devil."

Preacher #2:

Welcomed a Muslim Center in his area with open arms, saying "Jesus said to love our neighbor."

Now, pop quiz: Which one is acting more Christian?