Beefche's Blogodaria

Lead me, guide me, feel me up....

2009-04-13T08:00:00.000-04:00

A couple of years ago, I was asked to substitute in the Sunbeam class at church for a couple of weeks. I love kids and looked forward to spending time with them. I prepared my lesson and made sure I used lots of stories and pictures to entertain approximately five 3 year olds.

When I got to class I was told that I had an additional 3 year old. The family had just moved in and little Andrew was in my class. This was my first time teaching Sunbeams--I've never served in Primary (although I've campaigned for it many times!).

When it came time to tell a story, we all sat down and the little ones made sure to put their chairs as close to me as possible. I had 12 little knees all touching me legs. As I began my story and held up pictures, I felt someone's little feet on my shins--just rubbing me. I didn't think much about it because all the kiddos were touching me.

As the story progressed, the little feet rubbed higher and higher until I noticed they were now on my thighs under my dress! When I looked to see whose feet were that high on my legs, I saw that Andrew, sitting directly in front of me, didn't have his feet on my thighs, but rather was using his hands to rub my legs! I quickly removed his hands, yet he kept trying to get them on my legs again. Story time was over! We switched to doing some physical activities to keep them entertained and keep Andrew from attacking me again.

The next week, I wore a longer, straight skirt. I thought that Andrew wouldn't want to try to wedge his hands underneath this skirt--I was wrong. I spent almost the whole class evading him and trying to divert his attention.

I had never been felt up by a 3 year old and have joked about it since. I didn't have the courage to say anything to his parents as they were new and I didn't really know them. After a couple of years, I finally confessed to Andrew's mom. I told her that I've joked in the past that I was molested by a 3 year old--and it was her son! She laughed and said that he has always had a fascination with women's stockings--he likes the feel of them. She was perplexed, however, when I revealed that I wasn't wearing any hosiery!

Good Friday....

2009-04-10T08:00:00.000-04:00

...isn't so good for me. I have laryngitis. And stuffed sinuses. I wanted to do a great post about the Passover dinner I attended a couple of nights ago, but I don't have the energy for that at the moment.

So, here is a thought for you this Holy Day:

"As we approach this holy week—Passover Thursday with its Paschal Lamb, atoning Friday with its cross, Resurrection Sunday with its empty tomb—may we declare ourselves to be more fully disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ, not in word only and not only in the flush of comfortable times but in deed and in courage and in faith, including when the path is lonely and when our cross is difficult to bear."---Jeffrey R Holland, 2009 April Conference.

What does this say about me, part 2?

2009-04-09T08:00:00.002-04:00

Have you seen the Disney movie, "Beauty and the Beast?" Beast as a man is pretty hot. And whew! he looks like he can really kiss. Yum....

What does this say about me?

2009-04-08T08:00:00.000-04:00

I haven't watched Disney's "Cinderella" in a very long time. But I can still quote quite a few lines, sing the songs, and even anticipate funny moments. And I found a line that applies to me, "And I'm so eligible!"

Practical joke at work

2009-04-07T08:00:00.000-04:00

After reading my blog, you realize I love playing practical jokes. A couple of months ago, I was in our home office for my company to train new employees.

I had 4 students. Of the 4, only 1 was truly new to the company. She recently graduated from college and is a sweet, cute girl. During our training, we happened to have a company wide employee meeting. A couple of days before, the other trainer and I were chatting with a couple of the trainees. Including new girl. Chuck begins to explain to New Girl that during employee meetings that new employees are required to stand and introduce themselves. Of course, New Girl looked to me to confirm or deny. I confirmed it adding that you had to state your name, where you're from and a short story about yourself.

Needless to say, New Girl was scared! She asked about the story portion and I just said that it was just a little something--embarrassing moment, favorite memory, just something to remember you.

The next day while on break, I overheard her speaking to one of the other trainees--an employee who was transferring from another department. New Girl said that she asked another employee about it and that the other employee said that Chuck and I were pulling her leg. New Girl then exclaimed, "I know Chuck would do that, but no way would Beefche! She would NEVER do something like that!"

I could no longer remain a passive listener. I laughed so hard and New Girl had a look of pure astonishment. She almost didn't believe me when I said I was completely joking with her. She said she was convinced I wouldn't do something that mean.

Ahh, she now knows me better.

General Conference

2009-04-06T08:00:00.001-04:00

I decided that I wanted to go to General Conference this year. I chose April because I always enjoy April conference more. I think it's because we get the stats of the church in April.

So I left sunny, spring-like Indiana and arrived in Utah....and snow. I forget how snowy Utah can be in April. It wasn't real cold, I didn't wear a coat. I planned on going to the Saturday morning session. So, what happens? It turns very cold and snowy on Saturday morning. I decided to wear my coat for that experience.

I was able to meet a very nice couple while standing in line at Conference. They work for the church and have several Apostles and General Authorities in their ward. In fact, they told me they just got a new Gospel Doctrine teacher--Vaughn J. Featherstone--at least I think it was he. It was an emeritus GA in any case. I asked what the lessons and discussions were like. He said the last teacher was fluent in Hebrew and they had a lesson regarding the Hebrew translation of the scriptures.

Saturday's talk that made an impression on me was President Eyring's talk on debt and addictions. It was one to make me ponder the connect of these two devestating events. I want to think of my life and what I must do to avoid either.

I am constantly amazed at how the Spirit speaks to me during Conference. Sunday's talk that I especially loved was Elder Holland's talk (any surprise, there?). His testimony of Christ and His path of loneliness rendered me speechless. I felt the Spirit confirm to me the truth of his words.

This Conference has convinced me that I must go to the Temple more regularly. It is not something to do when I have time--because I will never have time. It is not something to do because my ward is attending. I must attend for my own salvation.

Join me, friends. If you have a recommend, make time to go to the temple. Work it out with family members to watch your kiddos. Or better yet, get with another couple and agree to watch each other's children to allow each couple to attend together. If you don't have a recommend, then live worthily to receive one. Make an appointment with your bishop now to begin that process.

Meeting strangers

2009-04-03T08:00:00.001-04:00

I'm not opposed to being set up with single men that my friends recommend. Once, my friend gave me a picture of a guy with his name and phone number on the back. I asked her who he was and she admitted that she didn't know. After my puzzled look, she explained that her dad always gets coffee at White Castle in the mornings. He saw this guy there and immediately thought of me. He just felt that this guy and I should meet. So he asked him if he were single and would he be willing to meet me. The guy gave him a picture (don't YOU carry a wallet size photo of yourself???) and wrote his information on the back.

I really appreciated the thought. I did and do. But, meeting complete strangers like that is...well...a little weird to me. Of course, I've met strangers before...people I've "met" online. But to me there is a difference. First, I had communicated with these people either through a forum or through email for some time. Second, I wasn't planning on dating them. Entering into a relationship with someone requires a little more scrutiny, in my opinion.

So, if you want to set me up with a single guy...bring it on. But please make sure you know him better than the guy in line at your local fast food place!

I'm HOW old?

2009-04-02T08:00:00.001-04:00

When I turned 30, I was a little sad. I reflected on what I thought 30 "looked" like for me and I wasn't anywhere I thought I would be. But, then I realized it was just a number and moved on.

Then 35 came. And I was even sadder. I realized that 35 sounded so old and wise. And I didn't feel either. And it meant that I now had to mark the second box on surveys. You know, the box about your age: __ 18-30 or __ 31-39

Now, it's time for the big 4-0. And I'm downright depressed. I'm forty years old! FORTY! I remember being in my teens and thinking 40 yrs old as OLD and middle aged and infirm and uncool and .....

I don't feel 40....whatever 40 is supposed to feel like. My mind is still in my late 20's with an occasional flit into the 30's. I don't think I look 40. I see women who are 40 and think, "Wow! I look so much younger than that!"

I just don't know what it means to be 40. It sounds so old and wise. Forty. Say it with me...forty. Don't you just envision someone who is well dressed, articulates her thoughts well, and dispenses wisdom at an alarming rate? Yeah, neither do I. I look in the mirror and I see a woman who tries to play dress up with makeup and jewelry, yet just like a 5 year old with her mother's things, looks awkward. But with a 5 year old, that awkwardness is cute....with a 40 year old, it's...well...awkward.

Well, whatever it means, I'm it now. I'm 40...maybe if I say it enough, I'll begin to actually believe it.

Doing a lot of thinking...

2009-04-01T08:00:00.001-04:00

It's been a while since I last posted. During that time, I've made some changes. Some are still in progress, but I'm ok with that.

One of the things that I decided to change was my efforts regarding my spiritual life. I've had some issues the past few years that have affected my spirit. And I didn't like those changes. I made half-hearted attempts in the past, but finally decided that I had to do something. So, I had a good talk with my Heavenly Father and we (ok, I) came to an understanding that I'm not perfect. Yep, it's true, despite what you're thinking. I make mistakes and I can't beat myself up over them as much as I do.

Earlier, I said that I wanted to read the Book of Mormon in 60 days. Thanks to a great friend who kept me on target (thanks, Polly!!), I was able to accomplish that. It felt good to accomplish a simple goal. In fact, I felt so good about it, that I immediately set another goal to read it again in 90 days. I also made the goal to read the November 2008 Ensign prior to going to General Conference. I completed my reading of the Ensign and I'm doing great on my BoM reading.

Professional counseling has helped a lot with some of my issues. In fact, I'm not sure that I'll be going back any time soon. I spoke with my counselor and he agreed that he didn't see a need for it right now. I still have some issues (who doesn't??), but feel better about them.

There were several talks in the conference issue that struck me, but there was a statement that stood out for me. It's from Elder Christofferson's talk on Zion: "To come to Zion, it is not enough for you or me to be somewhat less wicked than others. We are to become not only good but holy men and women. Recalling Elder Neal A. Maxwell’s phrase, let us once and for all establish our residence in Zion and give up the summer cottage in Babylon (see Neal A. Maxwell, A Wonderful Flood of Light [1990], 47)."

I've decided to destroy that summer cottage. As with any demolition, it's taking some time. A wall knocked down here, a window smashed there, but it's coming along. Sometimes, I look around and think about how much I loved the cottage, but then the filth of it reminds me of why it needs to be eradicated.

With General Conference coming soon, I am looking forward to hearing the Lord speak to me. He always does--some of those prophets prepare their talks specifically for me. I'm special that way--the Lord knows how much help I need so He sends His prophets to talk to me. I'm sure General Conference is for you too, but just know that some of those talks are for me.

Happiness

2009-01-09T08:00:00.001-05:00

What does it mean to be happy? Joseph Smith said, "Happiness is the object and design of our existence...." The scriptures talk about joy and happiness. I have a testimony of the prophets and scriptures, so I know that happiness is something that we can have in this life.

I think because of my depression and current events in my life, that I am unable to even feel hope for happiness. I find it difficult to grasp that my once contented life now has no hope. Please don't misunderstand...I'm not in the depths of despair or need a suicide watch. But when one is depressed for an extended amount of time, one begins to lose hope of ever climbing from that pit. One begins to think, "Is this my life? Is this what I will have to look forward to for eternity? Will there be happiness once 'eternity' begins?"

What about now? When life becomes so difficult and even moments of pleasure are interrupted by depressing thoughts, how do we continue to have hope for something better?

For me, it is my testimony. A friend once told me that when she was depressed, the only thing that kept her sane was that she knew she had a testimony. She didn't feel it, but she knew her testimony was real and continuing to attend church was important for her to exemplify for her family. I don't have a family that reminds me of being an example, but I do have a testimony. My testimony has sustained me through other difficult times.

I question the meaning of happiness because I've always heard it was more of a state of being rather than a destination. But, I don't understand this. I'm not happy dealing with the difficulties in my life. Even before these difficulties started, I never considered myself happy. I was content. Is that happiness? Can we be perfectly happy in this mortal, fallen world?

When I think of that quote by Brother Joseph, I wonder if my definition of happy is skewed. The quote goes on to say something about as long as you pursue the path that leads to happiness can you achieve it. Meaning, we need to follow God's way for us. And truly, if we are rebelling against God then we will not be happy. We may have pleasure in our activities, but once the pleasure fades, we then feel the ramifications of sin.

But there are a lot of good people that have sad, depressing lives. And some of them are happy people. At least they appear to be. And I know that I appear to be happy. I would venture to say that no one who sees me daily has any idea that I am not happy and am suffering from depression. But it takes a lot of energy to keep up that facade (another topic). My point is that happiness is obviously something personal. And since there is a season for everything, perhaps it's my season to not be happy. That whole opposition thing, you know.

Feel like makin' bread!

2009-01-08T08:00:00.001-05:00

The title is not what you think.

When I was at BYU, there were about 5-6 of us that would gather on Sunday evenings and sing. One guy brought his guitar and he would play chords as we sang various songs. We had some really good singers and had sopranos, altos, baritones, tenors, basses.

One Sunday after a fireside by Elder Packer (he spoke on chastity), we gathered as normal. Chad decided to play the chords from a song he just learned. All of us knew the song and began to sing/harmonize:

Baby, when I think about you
I think about love
Darlin, dont live without you
And your love
If I had those golden dreams
Of my yesterdays
I would wrap you in the heaven
till Im dyin on the way

Feel like makin
Feel like makin love
Feel like makin love to you

As we sang the chorus, we realized what we were singing. Suddenly, the whole group stopped as if a conductor had cut us off. We discussed how after hearing Elder Packer talk about chastity, that perhaps singing about making love wasn't appropriate.

So, we decided to come up with our own lyrics. Each person took a turn to make up a verse and chorus. The one that "won" was "Feel like makin' bread." I don't remember the lyrics now, but I remember singing about the smell and melted butter.

I love this group and love this song. However, whenever I hear it, my mind changes the chorus from "feel like makin' love" to "feel like makin' bread."

Read your scriptures!

2009-01-06T08:00:00.000-05:00

I'm not really into New Year's resolutions. But I like the thought of goals. One of my goals is to read the Book of Mormon in 60 days. I am not expecting to receive deep insight or reveal new doctrines. But I do expect to become reacquainted with a beloved book. I do expect to feel the Spirit again in my life. I expect to have these 60 days help me to create a habit of turning to the scriptures more.

I couldn't sleep this morning, so at 4 am, I was dinking around on the computer and came across this website. Perhaps you know of it. But if you don't, look around. It's free and has a lot of features.

http://www.readthescriptures.com/

One of the things I like about it is you can set up a reading schedule and it will email you so that you can read it online, listen to it online, or just be reminded to read it (in your own scriptures if you prefer). There is also a way to mark the online scriptures with highlighter and notes. It keeps track of your notes. There's a journal and the ability to form a group to discuss the scriptures you are reading together.

Anyway, I began my 60 days today. I'm hoping I don't become a dork and skip a day thinking that I'll make it up. I find that if I do that, I tend to fall even further behind and then get discouraged and quit altogether.

If you join and decide you'd to form a group, let me know and I'll join the group. I'm all about others kicking me in the tush to help me with my goals.

So, whatever you decide to do, just do it--read your scriptures!

Happy Blah Blah to me

2008-12-28T08:00:00.000-05:00

Today is my birthday. And it's a milestone birthday which means that it's depressing. Ok, not depths of despair depressing, but depressing in that I have to face reality that I'm getting older.

Aren't I supposed to be wiser or something when I'm older? I certainly don't feel it. In fact, I was playing the game, "Are you smarter than a fifth grader?" and realized that nope, I'm not. Especially in science and math.

Then I thought about how being wise isn't necessarily about being book smart. Life experiences teach us a lot, right? So, why do I do dumb things like not bring sunglasses to a country ruled by sun?

So, I've decided that wisdom is for other people. It's wasted on the youth anyway and since I don't want to admit that I'm getting old, then it would be wasted on me.

I'm tired and blah

2008-12-11T08:00:00.000-05:00

I was thinking about how people always put on a "happy" face in public. We tend to not show any negative feelings (unless in extreme circumstances--like when the Colts lose). And I was thinking about how people's personal blogs lean towards the happy topics. After all, who wants to read a bunch of negative Nellie's thoughts?

But, I'm breaking from that tradition. Partly because I just like being a rebel. And partly because the reality of life is that not every day is a Glorious Utopia type of day.

I'm sad. And hurt. And confused. And tired. About a lot of things that I will not go into, but just know that I just don't want to deal with people or things right now. And that's just not an option. Why can't we just spend a week inside a secluded area and have absolutely no one to call us, nag us, worry about us, think about us? I just want some time alone to suck my thumb, snuggle into my blankie, and escape from reality.

Instead, I go to work and put on my happy face. I talk to people when they call me and sound excited for life. I still shop and eat and pay my bills. But I don't want to.

And although I'm excited to go to Mexico for Christmas, there is a part of me that wishes I could use that time to just hide in my house, watch reruns of Friends, eat Oreo cookies, and turn off the phone. But if I did that, then I would be 50 pounds heavier, living in the past, and saying to everyone, "How you doin'?"

So, I'll continue with my happy face in public. But, I just don't have the energy for posting on a blog. I have some ideas for blog posts. Maybe I'll use the time in Mexico to work on those in preparation for the new year.

Hawaii--the finale

2008-12-05T08:00:00.000-05:00

I was sad to leave Hawaii. I'm not sure if I could live there--very expensive. Food, housing, gas, everything was more expensive that the 48 states. But, to vacation was fantastic. Here are some final pictures to warm us during the cold December.

Hawaii is known as the land of rainbows. It rained every day we were there. But the difference is that it was sunny also. After the rain ends, about 10-15 minutes, the rainbows can be seen. Here's a great one right above the place we stayed. You could usually see the full rainbow, although I found it difficult to capture on film.

We visited the only palace in America. Hawaii was once a monarchy and a beautiful palace was built sometime in 1800. Unfortunately, no pictures were allowed.

We also visited the Dole Plantation. Wow, I never knew that pineapples could taste so sweet and different. I thought pineapples came in pineapple flavor. But, there are different varieties with slightly different flavors.

Pineapples don't grow on trees (as I thought--I'm such a Hoosier hick). It grows from a fern like stiff plant.

Have you seen "Little Shop of Horrors?" Here's Audrey III...E. is feeding it, LOL! This is actually a pineapple.

Is this not the coolest tree you've ever seen? It reminded me of something from a Dr. Seuss book. It's called a Rainbow Tree, for obvious reasons.

Aww, don't we look sweet? Friends since the beginning days of college and we still like each other. This was taken at the Dole Plantation...they had a botanical garden there with lots of plants and things that are indigenous to the area. Shortly after this picture was taken, her 10 year old daughter fell into the pond behind us and hurt her knee pretty badly. There was lots of blood and tears. The employees were so nice and kind to us after that. We got a lot of free things including the tour, pineapple ice cream, and gifts. Girlie got so much free, fun stuff, I was looking for a pond to fall into.

On the last day of vacation, my friend got stung/bit/attacked by a Portuguese Man o'War. I'm sure she won't appreciate me telling the story, but it's too funny not to share. She and her husband went snorkeling when she was stung. She didn't know what happened...she just knew something was on her arm and now her arm hurt very badly. The locals said that it was probably a jellyfish and that vinegar or urine would help take away the pain. So, her husband bravely stood up to rescue his fair maiden. She made him go into the bathroom with a cup to do his deed. As he was pouring his "rescue" on her arm, the kids kept saying, "Ooo! It's frothy!" and all she felt was really warm liquid. It was disgusting to her, so she kept chanting, "It's beer...it's beer..."

By the way, her pain didn't go away. Once she got home, she did some research and found out that she had an allergic reaction and that urine and vinegar (which she used as well) made it worse.

And so we come to the end of our tropical vacation. I really enjoyed Hawaii...I would go again. And I would recommend it to anyone.

Hawaii Part 4

2008-12-04T08:00:00.000-05:00

While we were at the PCC, they had a nighttime show. It was so much fun to see traditional dancing from the various Pacific Island cultures. My favorite was the Maori men (they make faces as they dance to "scare" their enemies) and the Tahitian women (they are the traditional shake-your-hips hula dancers).

Here's a video of our Maori warriors.

Here's a video of some fancy hip shaking. I could not take my eyes of these women's hips. Holy cow can those women do that for a long time!

Hawaii Part 3

2008-12-03T08:00:00.000-05:00

The other 2 places I wanted to visit were the Temple and the Polynesian Cultural Center (PCC). Here is the Lai'e Temple (pronouned "la ee aa"). I have to say, this is one of the most beautiful temples I've seen. We didn't go inside as we had kids who were too young to go inside, so we just enjoyed the outside.

The missionaries there at the visitors center were couples or sisters. The sisters who serve a Hawaii mission all take turns at the temple. They wear those long flowery dresses (as you picture Hawaiian women wearing) with flowers in their hair. Actually, many women wear flowers behind their ear everywhere you go.

We visited the Temple on the 12th birthday of my friend's son. This pic is of my friend's girls (and her mom's hand--LOL) in the area right behind the temple. There was an area that was created by the trees and they had some benches there. It was secluded and a perfect place for his father and grandfather to ordain him to the office of deacon, which they did. What a wonderful experience. So incredible to be ordained in such a sacred and beautiful setting. I was happy to be a part of that moment.

Here's another shot of the trees in the secluded area behind the temple. The interesting about these trees are, you are looking at their roots. Their roots grow DOWN to the ground and once they bury themselves into the ground, another tree grows. The roots/branches then entwine themselves and forms a twisty looking tree.

After the temple, we visited the PCC. Actually, the PCC, BYU-Hawaii, and the temple are all right next to each other. The church owns quite a bit of land there in Lai'e and uses it to house their educational and ecclesiastical institutions.

Here we are learning a hula dance. The hula is actually sign language put to music. Each action has a meaning. Our hula dance is telling the story of a woman in love and welcoming her lover back from across the ocean. Notice the girly in pink of front? That's one of ours and her face is hilarious--"am I doing this right?" I just look goofy--I was imagining what all of us looked like--including the men shaking their hips.

The PCC is set up to a living museum which demonstrates the culture of the people from the Pacific Islands. Cultures including Hawaiians, Maori (New Zealand), Tongon, Samoa, etc. are demonstrated by BYU students and others. This man was hilarious. He is Samoan and demonstrated how to open and drink the juice from a coconut. He chose our newest deacon as a "volunteer" to partake of the juice. E. was less than excited to try this and his face was hilarious.

A little bit of trivia--when a coconut is opened, the juice inside is just that--juice. It is not milk. Coconut milk is obtained by scraping out the meat of the nut and then squeezing that. I had never had fresh coconut and found that it actually doesn't even taste like coconut! It reminded me of a meaty type of nut such as Macadamia or hazelnut. The flavor is very mild.

And I tried poi. Poi is made from the tarrot root which is quite a bit like a sweet potato, except it's purple. Poi is made by pounding the tarrot and then cooking it (boiling, baking, etc.). Tarrot raw is not able to be eaten--it has to be cooked. They had samples and it had the consistency of a thick applesauce. The flavor is very bland...until the aftertaste hits. Then it is very, very sweet. I found it pleasant to eat, although I don't know what I would eat with it. The Hawaiians eat it with dinners as almost a condiment for their meat, veggies, or rice.

We ate at the PCC for a traditional luau. There were tons of food and it was very, very good. I think my favorite was the "Lomi Lomi Salmon." It's raw salmon with soy sauce, ginger, and other ingredients. It's very good and doesn't taste like raw salmon (I love sushi). The roasted pork was yummy as well. They had one dessert that was...well...just gross. It was some kind of coconut pudding--the texture was like a Jello Jiggler.

They had entertainment for us as we ate and invited all the kiddos up on stage to participate in a hula. We made our youngest members to go--they didn't look too excited to be in front of hundreds of people.

Next stop, traditional Pacific Island dancing.

Hawaii Part 2

2008-12-02T08:00:00.001-05:00

There were only 3 places that I absolutely insisted on seeing. Thankfully, the same 3 places were on everyone's mind. One of those places was Pearl Harbor.

This is the memorial that is built over the Arizona. For those who don't know any history, the Arizona was a ship that was sunk by the Japanese and we lost over 1100 lives with that ship alone. Many of the men who died on the Arizona remain in the ship below the surface.

At one end of the memorial is a wall which lists the names of the lost men. Many of those who survived Pearl Harbor have asked that upon their death that their remains be buried alongside their comrades. There are several urns placed along the wall of some of these men.

As soon as you step onto the national landmark, you feel a sense of loss and grief for these men who gave their lives. Everyone speaks in whispers and are very respectful.

The Arizona continues to leak oil...some 60 years after the attack. I'm not sure how much or how long it will continue to leak. But, it's disturbing to think that after 60+ years that this ship continues to "live" as it leaks its lifeblood into the ocean. I couldn't get my video uploaded that shows the oil actually ascending to the surface.

This is the Missouri ("Mighty Mo"), the site of the Japanese surrender to General MacArthur in 1945. It's pretty impressive when you're on board. Those guns are HUGE. And did you know that this same ship was used in the Gulf War? They outfitted her with Tomahawk missiles and some other impressive combat weapon (can you tell that I don't know much about weaponry?). The thing that impressed me with this was that this ship was so powerful during the Gulf War, that she could fire and pound our enemies from so far away that they couldn't discern where the bombardment was originating.

They have some bomb thing and flags from all 50 states next to the ship. Here I am standing next to the Indiana state flag (the blue one with the torch directly to my right).

A couple of thoughts before we leave Pearl Harbor. Many tours were given while we were there. We did a self-tour and at one point, we were overrun by a Japanese tour group. Never before did I wish I could speak Japanese so badly. I wondered how the history was recited for these tourists. After all, history is written by the victors. As we toured, everywhere you looked or heard, the American soldiers were being lauded and praised. And the Japanese were depicted as enemies who plotted and executed a heinous act.

Finally, I was struck by the patriotism shown by all Americans who toured here. Many of the tourists were obviously military (haircuts and uniforms give them away). I have always been proud to be an American. And as I visited this site, I was impressed again that although beaten, Americans do not give up. We rally to the cause and fight the good fight.

I'm proud to be an American!

Hawaii Part 1

2008-12-01T08:00:00.000-05:00

Aloha!

Finally! I'm posting some pics of Hawaii. First, let me say that Hawaii is fabulous! The beaches are clean and lovely, the water clear and warm, the people friendly, and the weather, although humid, still fantastic.

One of the cool things about Hawaii is that it's obviously a part of the United States, but there is a foreign culture feel to it. Hawaiian and Japanese are spoken almost as much as English.

I flew into Honolulu on the island of Oahu on September 27 and we left on October 5. I went with my best friend from college and her family--husband, 5 children, and her parents. We stayed at a military recreational place (her husband is in the military) and it was right on the beach. That opening picture is from our place where we stayed. Isn't that just awesome?

We would get up in the morning and if nothing was planned for the day, we went to the beach (a 30 second walk) and played. The kids enjoyed boogie boarding. We went snorkeling. I enjoyed just laying on the beach and listening to the waves. Ahhh. Love, love that sound.

I had just climbed Diamond Head, a volcano (literally) and this is a picture of Waikiki from the top. Notice my red face? That's not the sun...it's from exertion. Whew! That was a climb! The trail included climbing over rocks, long staircases, and squeezing through a tunnel like contraption.

This is another picture from the top of the volcano. That's the crater and you can see the parking lot and part of the trail.

Isn't that just beautiful? I absolutely love lighthouses (anyone who's been to my house notices that first off) and was so delighted to see Diamond Head Lighthouse.

I can't remember the name of this place. This was another hike that we went on. Where the Diamond Head hike was very sunny and warm, this hike was like hiking in the rainforest. It was not sunny, but extremely humid. For me, this hike was more strenuous. We basically climbed over rocks for about a mile straight up. We knew that we would see a waterfall, but I was expecting something a little more dramatic.

I didn't wear shoes that were conducive to hiking. Little white shoes from Walmart that cost $5.00 get ruined quickly in such a wet, muddy environment. And it made it slickery (that's my word for it). By the time I got to the top, I looked as if I had just stepped out of the shower.

Next trip, Pearl Harbor.

Black Friday--Hoosier style

2008-11-28T08:00:00.000-05:00

Today is the big day for all you shoppers. I typically don't venture out today because of the crowds...I'm not big on crowds of people shoving their way in front of the lines. But I had to share a couple of ads that were in the paper today.

First, the recliner. Um, camo recliner? Seriously? Where are you going to use it? Instead of a tree stand for hunting deer, just use this recliner. Kick back, put your feet up, and wait for the deer in comfort. They'll never see you, because...hey, your recliner is camo and blends in.

Then there's this lovely picture. Look at all the beautiful Christmas decorations. How wonderful would it be to relax in front of this beautifully decorated setting? But, wait....what's in the fireplace? Is that a guarantee to never have to replenish the fire? Or is it just a way to have one fire for the whole winter?

Gotta love redneck ads.......

I can cook, I promise!

2008-11-27T08:00:00.000-05:00

I know...I know. You're still munching on turkey and dressing. But, I was reminded recently of this exchange I had with my mom.

One year for Thanksgiving, I was discussing the menu with my mom. As she covered every conceivable dish for the day, I finally asked her what I could bring. I was excited to contribute to our feast as I had a new home with a great kitchen in which I could concoct a fantastic dish.

Mom thought for a while and kept pointing out that all the sides were covered. I insisted and finally said, "Mom! I want to bring something besides drinks! What can I bring?" She finally relented and said that I could bring cole slaw. I said, "Great! I can make cole slaw." She then informed me, "Ummm, honey? Your dad and I love Long John Silver's cole slaw. Couldn't you just go there and buy some?"

Did you know that you can't buy LJS cole slaw in any size besides the individual size? Yeah, I found out as I bought 10 of them for our Thanksgiving dinner. The lady behind the counter couldn't stop laughing as I told her the reason behind my request. She kept giggling at my pitiful story of how my mom didn't want me to make anything for dinner.

Blagodarnost

2008-11-26T08:00:00.000-05:00

That's Bulgarian for thanksgiving. Just a quick list of things for which I'm grateful:

A septic system that flushes toilet paper. And that I don't have to use any more Joseph Smith First Vision pamphlets to do my business (it seemed so wrong to use that, but what was a missionary to do when there was no toilet paper anywhere in the country?)

Music and the ability to carry a decent tune.

Friends who make me laugh and cry with me (sometimes they make me cry from laughter).

Modern day conveniences for a fertile woman.

Family who drives me batty but loves me unconditionally.

Mountain Dew for stressful days.

A wood burning fireplace with plenty of wood.

A supportive and uplifting bra. (you thought I was going to say friend, weren't you?)

The extended version of Lord of the Rings with the cast commentary (if you haven't watched it, you are missing on some mighty humorous commentary).

Men with their manly quirks (of course, this is coming from a single woman....).

College basketball.

Nice smelling candles...lots of them.

Sleeping alone which means I can make noises and smells without embarrassment (except when I blog about it)--see previous entry.

Healthy and pretty teeth.

Being a Daughter of God.

The means and ability to travel and experience the grandeur of God's creations.

The fact that Dove and Ghiradelli dark chocolate are not against the Word of Wisdom (since I'm a chocolate snob, not just any chocolate gets my motor running).

A little bit country

2008-11-25T08:00:00.000-05:00

I love country music. I always tell people that I was raised on country sunshine (for anyone who knows country, that's a reference to a country song from long ago).

I love country music. So many people make fun of country or complain about it. But, come on! What other type of music can have such fantastic songs about fried chicken, a huge International Harvester tractor, an old Chevy Nova, long-haired country boys, or even red high heels.

I love country music. Some of the newcomers are more pop than country, but I still love the essence of country music. They sing about real life, an ideal life (for the most part), or a comfortable life. Some of the best songs are about mothers, dogs, and deep abiding love.

I love country music. In all other genres of music, the artists are known and expected to be arrogant, cocky, egotistical and flamboyant. Country music stars are patriotic, God-fearing, respectful, and grateful. Usually any flamboyance is done with humor--remember the sparkles of Porter Wagner or Dolly Parton's...ahem...assets? These are examples of flamboyant personalities that have become the topic of many jokes.

I love country music. Those songs tug at my heart or memories. Hearing Jim Reeves will always remind me of my grandma. Hearing "I'll Go To My Grave Loving You" from the Statler Brothers will always remind me of my mom. Listening to "Sneaky Snakes" by Tom T. Hall will always put a smile on my face as I think of my childhood. Tricia Yearwood's "Thinking About You" will always remind me of my first love. Her song, "On a Bus to St. Cloud" will always remind me of my first heartbreak. "Can I Have This Dance" will remind me of a love that I continue to seek. "Country Boy Can Survive" from Hank Jr. makes me yearn to be so independent and capable. And of course Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" brings tears to my eyes as I reflect on America and her heroes.

I love country music. Of course there are some songs that are less than appropriate. Generally, those songs don't stay popular for long. The songs that do stay popular that are about the stereotypical topic of cheating often are filled with real feelings regarding the subject. Regardless, just like any other genre of music, there are immoral songs, but that doesn't negate the pure sound and goodness that country embodies.

I love country music. I love a variety of genres of music. But as a recent country hit says, it's like a pair of jeans that fit just right, or the touch of a precious child, or feeling the love of a mother. It's home and everything that it represents.

A funny

2008-11-24T08:10:00.001-05:00

I saw this slogan on the back of a septic tank truck:

"We're #1 in the #2 business!"

Why am I single?

2008-11-24T08:00:00.000-05:00

I think I've figured out why I'm single. I only attract gay men. Seriously.

When I was in high school, I formed a huge crush on Greg Louganis, the Olympic diver. I became a huge fan from the 1984 Olympics and whenever diving was on TV, I made sure I had a front row seat and a rag to wipe the drool from my face.

When he came to Indy for a dive meet, I was able to see him and meet him afterwards. While he was signing my program, I asked him to my prom. He was very polite and asked me when it was. Unfortunately, he had another meet that weekend and would not be able to attend. About a year or so later, I was reading an interview of him in a magazine. He was asked how he handles all the adoration. He mentioned that he has been asked on dates from young women and their mothers, asked to attend a prom (THAT'S ME!!!), and other invitations.

By the time he announced that he was gay, I had moved on in my celebrity crush cycle.

The first year that I watched American Idol, the two finalists were Reuben Studdard and Clay Aiken. I was a Clay fan from his first audition. He has such a fantastic voice in such an unlikely face. He seems to be a genuinely nice man and I enjoyed his progression throughout that season. I bought a couple of his CDs and have enjoyed them.

By the time he announced that he was gay, I had moved on to another favorite singer.

I recently traveled to Minneapolis and while there visited the Mall of America, the largest mall in the US. That place is huge and since I am so terribly directionally challenged, I got lost while in the mall. As I was contemplating the directory and how to interpret that map, a salesman approached me. He shook my hand and complimented me on the softness of my hand as well as my style of clothing. He said he knew I wasn't from Minnesota as all women from Minnesota have rough skin and wear flannel. I thanked him kindly for the compliments and then he leaned closer. He softly warned me to not hug or kiss him because he was gay.

By the time he announced that he was gay, I had moved on in my search for an escape door.

Walking down memory lane

2008-11-21T08:00:00.000-05:00

Recently, my high school celebrated its 80th anniversary. They had a big to-do at the school and a couple of my girlfriends and I attended.

They had done some renovations and it was interesting to see the changes. Isn't it funny how some senses are so prominent? A couple of the places had the exact same smell and once it hit my nose, I was transported back to being a gangly 17 year old. A few places looked almost exactly as it did before and as I gazed upon the sight, I could see it as it looked over 20 years ago filled with students and chaos. As we walked through the gym and my shoes clicked on the floor, I could hear the squeak of shoes and the thud of basketballs as I envisioned how it was when I attended sporting events.

I saw one of my teachers there and was surprised to see how little he had changed. Certainly, he was older and had a few more wrinkles, but overall he didn't look much different. I, obviously, had changed as he did not recognize me. He finally remembered me as I reminded him I had attended BYU (funny how being a Mormon makes me peculiar!).

The reunion committee (there is a reunion committee for the entire school and is responsible for the major school reunions, not class reunions) had prepared tables to represent the classes from each year. As I looked at the pictures and memorabilia from my class, I saw a couple of pictures of me and my name mentioned in some of the programs.

As I contemplated my years at high school, I was struck by a thought. I no longer felt such an overwhelming loyalty to my high school as I do to BYU. I no longer consider myself a purple and white girl, but I bleed blue and white. My girlfriends appeared to have a different viewpoint. They were interested in every detail of the school and reminiscent about so many things. I kept comparing my feelings to the feelings I had upon visiting BYU last year for the first time in over10 years. My thoughts and feelings were more pronounced and passionate. I was interested by the changes and memories of my high school, but I was fascinated and invested in the changes and memories of BYU.

We sang our school fight song and I was surprised at how much I remembered of the words. But singing, "We're loyal to you Washington," seemed disloyal to me as I kept getting the BYU fight song words confused with this song.

I'm glad I went. I would go again. But I am thrilled to be going to BYU to attend Education Week again in 2009. That feels like coming home to me.

Don't you like me?

2008-11-20T08:00:00.000-05:00

Have you ever made an instant connection with someone before? I have on a few occasions. I remember one in particular. We just hit if off almost from the moment we met. From that moment on, we communicated several times a day. I enjoyed her company tremendously. She is a funny, spiritual, intelligent, and fantastic woman.

After developing a friendship for so long, one day it seemed to disappear. It happened so subtly that I'm still not sure how it happened. Did I say something? Did I do something? Was I no longer interesting? Did she find a new connection? It just seemed as if our communications that were so frequent and done on a daily basis slowly dissipated. Suddenly, she couldn't talk or spend time with me. Other things had become a priority.

And I understood. I know that relationships do change and that I will not take center stage in anyone's life. But certainly, I deserve at least some time, right?

Unfortunately, I internalized everything and thought that I must have done or said something to cause this and so, not wanting to confront anything unpleasant, didn't communicate my feelings or thoughts with this friend. As a result, we drifted apart until even polite conversations seemed strained and stilted.

On occasion I communicate with this friend. Each time I miss the camaraderie we had before. As I contemplate our past escapades together, a small smile appears (you know, the kind that comes from reminiscing about an intimate friend). And wish I had tried harder to preserve at least a semblance of that friendship.

Sometimes I wish for the school days when I could have another friend pass her a note which says, "If you like beefche, check this box." And then I'd know. Instead, I think about her and our conversations and continually wonder what I coulda, shoulda, woulda done to change things.

For the college students

2008-11-07T08:00:00.001-05:00

For those who know college aged kids or just like to eat like one (that would be me!), then these 2 recipes are for you.

The college student staples include mac and cheese and Ramen noodles. Here's a couple of recipes to make these 2 things go further.

Mac and cheese

Make the mac and cheese according to the box. For the last 2 min of boiling the noodles, add any frozen veggies (I like peas, corn, or mixed vegetables). Drain, and make according to the box. Once you mix it altogether, add one can of tuna, mix in some dry dill or savory and add extra cheese (cheddar, mexican, mozzarella, etc.). This will make a complete meal and will increase the servings.

Ramen noodles

Boil 1 1/2 cups of water with soy sauce (I just add some--about 1/2 cup or so). Add flavoring mix. While it is boiling, crack an egg into it and mix with a fork. Turn down the heat or it will boil over. Add frozen veggies (same as above) and once it starts to boil again, put in the noodles and cook about 5 min.

Need a side salad to take to work? Try Ramen salad.

Important: Only use Chicken Ramen (I've tried the others and ewww!)

One package of cole slaw mix (just the salad stuff--you can find it in the produce section--it's cabbage and carrots that have been shredded)
4 green onions
sliced almonds
olive oil
vinegar
sugar
salt and pepper

In a bowl, whisk together the flavoring packet, 1 teaspoon of salt, 1 teaspoon of pepper, 2 tablespoons of sugar, 3 tablespoons of vinegar (I use red wine vinegar), and 1/2 cup of olive oil. You may need to adjust the vinegar. I start with 3 tablespoons, but then taste it and usually add a little more. Set aside.

Mix the cole slaw mix, with the green onions (cut into 1/4 in pieces), and almonds. Break up the noodles from the Ramen (yes, DO NOT cook them--use raw). Mix in the salad stuff.

Pour wet ingredients over the salad and mix thoroughly.

This is great in the summer (no mayo) and always gets rave reviews at potlucks.

My momma's pot roast

2008-11-06T08:00:00.000-05:00

I had a friend who had never heard of pot roast. Huh? I had to explain that it is also called bottom roast, butt roast, several names.

You can make this in a crock pot, but I think it just tastes better in the oven. So, some day when you're going to be home for over 3 hours straight, try this.

You need:

1 beef pot roast--whatever you want to call it or is on sale
carrots
potatoes
cabbage
onion
salt and pepper
flour
brown gravy mix (optional)

Do this:

I found the easiest way to do this is to use a gallon size baggie. Put your roast in the baggie and add about a cup of flour with salt and pepper (I use about 1 large pinch of salt and I use fresh ground pepper--about 1 teaspoon). Close the baggie, then manipulate it to cover the roast. If you need, add more flour. You want the roast completely covered in flour.

Line a roasting pan with foil (for easy cleanup) and place the roast in the bottom. You can put some of the flour from the bag over the roast and around the roast (I wouldn't put more than a cup total). Put in about 1/2 cup of water. Cover the roast and bake 1 1/2 hrs at 350 degrees.

After that time, check the roast. I'll use a fork and check the meat. It shouldn't be completely done, but the fork should go in partially. I then placed quartered onion, potatoes, carrots and cabbage around the roast. Keep uncovered and add more water if necessary.

If you want to use the gravy mix, then sprinkle the dry gravy mix over the roast (you can also use it instead of the flour in the baggie) and pour 1/2-1 cup water over it. Then place the veggies around the roast.

Cook another 1-1 1/2 hrs. I will check the roast on occasion to make sure that there is sufficient water in the pan (helps make gravy and keep veggies moist) and I will even baste the veggies with the gravy in the bottom.

If you're afraid that the veggies will dry out, then cover the whole thing for the last bit, but take off the covering for the last 1/2 hr. You want the top of the roast to be roasted a little--add yummy flavor.

You'll need some good rolls to sop up the gravy. Oh, yummy in my tummy!

I get some money!

2008-11-05T09:30:00.000-05:00

Hey, I choose to be positive about our election and the president-elect.

Now, my government is going to give me, the middle class, money. I probably won't get any raises because they are going to take it away from my company, but hey, money in my pocket.

We will have world peace because president-elect Obama will sit down unconditionally with our enemies.

I'll have free health care that our government will pay for. Again, I won't have to pay for it because it'll come from the evil big corporations (who pay my salary).

I'll have more freedom to hate on America because our president-elect seems to enjoy the company of people like that.

The newspapers will print nothing but glowing, wonderful news from now on....because president-elect Obama is the messiah.

And the best news of all? None of these things will take much time at all because our Congress will be behind the president-elect every step of the way--they come from the same side of the party!

Yahoo!

The best marinara sauce

2008-11-05T08:00:00.000-05:00

So, I love watching the Food Network. Because I watch it so much, I've gotten a few tips and ideas for cooking. One of the best is kosher salt. For anyone who has no clue that salt does come in something other than a shaker, then read this.

All the fancy cooks use kosher salt. I, honestly, thought it had something to do with Jewish custom. I suppose I thought it had been prayed over or something. Well, I found out that there are various salts. And kosher is fabulous! I found it on the bottom shelf of my local grocery store--you know where all the spices and salt are found. It comes in a box and the grains are too large to put in a salt shaker. I have my baby bowl (the bowl my mom used to feed me as a baby) and put it in there. I just use my fingers to pinch some and put in whatever.

It's not as salty as table salt and adds flavor without it being salty. The only thing that it doesn't taste good with is popcorn--the salt is too large.

Once I began using kosher salt, I made up with marinara sauce after watching a lot of Emeril, Rachel Ray, Paula, Giada, etc.

You need:

Stewed tomatoes
Crushed tomatoes
herbs such as oregano, thyme, savory, basil, rosemary, parsley
red pepper flakes
salt and pepper
onions
garlic

Do this:

Dice onion and garlic (I use 1 whole onion and about 4-5 cloves of garlic--not that jar stuff--eww) and saute about 5 minutes in extra virgin olive oil. I typically will saute the onion first until it is translucent and then add the garlic for about a minute. I tend to burn garlic and if you do burn it--then toss everything and start over. Seriously, burned garlic is just horrible.

After I add the garlic, I add either one can of stewed/diced tomatoes and 1 can of crushed tomatoes or 2 cans of crushed tomatoes. I always use crushed tomatoes because I like the texture better.

I then add the herbs. I use whatever I have that sounds like it would be good in Italian food. They have one called Italian seasoning that contains several different herbs. I use that along with my list above. How much to add is a guess. I would start with 1/2 teaspoon each and then add more as you like. I adore thyme and savory, so I tend to add more of these. I may also sometimes use paprika and cayenne. Chili powder is yummy too--add about 1 teaspoon so it's not too chili tasting. Be careful with the red pepper flakes--these are HOT! I typically use my hand to measure (yeah, I'm a Rachel Ray fan) and I use about 1-2 shakes for the red pepper flakes.

Once you add the herbs (salt and pepper to taste), then let it simmer about 10-15 min. This is great for spaghetti, lasagna, pasta. Cook penne pasta or any large pasta with browned Italian sausage and this sauce--yummy!

I will often make a meat sauce. Once I cook the onion and garlic, I add ground beef or ground turkey (if you use turkey, add one can of beef broth and cook down prior to adding tomatoes--this makes it taste meatier). After it browns, I add the rest of the ingredients.

Try making this meat sauce and making an Italian sandwich. Take Italian bread, slice it lengthwise, scoop out some of the bread, put the prepared meat sauce in the middle, add cheese (mozzarella or provolone) and then toast in the oven, 350 degrees until the cheese melts and starts to turn brown.

You can make this sauce and freeze it for later as well.

Doing my civic duty

2008-11-04T09:51:00.003-05:00

Took me 2 1/2 hours today to vote. Poorly organized, huge turnout. Someone bought donuts and passed them down the line to help with the grumbling (both the stomach grumbling and the verbal grumbling).

I always get a thrill when I vote...even when I'm making uninformed voting choices (do I really care who the coroner is?!?). I have this image of the signers of the Declaration of Independence standing, nodding and smiling as I cast my vote. Thanks for sacrificing and helping to shape a nation which allows me to vote (of course they didn't allow women to vote, but they helped form a nation that did eventually allow me to vote).

Veggie galore!

2008-11-04T08:00:00.000-05:00

I must be hungry. Second recipe this week. Well, let's make this a week of recipes. Today's is sponsored by Weight Watchers. They have a fabulous veggie soup (0-1 points for anyone who does WW) that is simple and very tasty. If you want to add more veggies to your diet or wish to lose weight, then make this soup and eat a bowl before lunch or dinner. It's healthier than a salad--that salad dressing can be a killer.

Ingredients:

Basically, whatever veggies you want. I suggest for the minimum you have:

onion
garlic
carrots
celery
cabbage
green beans

6 cups of chicken or veggie broth
1 teaspoon of basil leaves
1 teaspoon of oregano
1 tablespoon tomato paste
salt and pepper to taste

Start off using either cooking spray or olive oil (1 tablespoon) and saute minced garlic (I LOVE garlic so I use about 3-4 cloves) and diced onion (I use about 1/2 of an onion) in a big pot. Cook for about 2 minutes, then add diced carrots (I use about 1/2 small bag of baby carrots or 3-4 large carrots) and diced celery (about 3-4 ribs). Cook about 5 min. Now add broth and rest of veggies. I made some this week and used asparagus, zucchini, yellow squash, corn, cabbage, green beans. Add the rest of ingredients. Taste and adjust your salt as necessary.

Side story: I bought tons of veggies and while ringing them up, the kid at the register didn't know half of them. "Uh, ma'am, what's this?" It's green cabbage, it's zucchini, it's squash. Finally, his manager came over (he was new and needed some help) and after hearing him ask what the various items were said, "Son, you need to eat more veggies at home."

You only need to cook the soup as long as you wish the veggies to be soft. I like my veggies with some bite to them, so I cook everything about a total of 20-30 min tops. I also add some veggies towards the last 5-10 minutes: squash, zucchini, asparagus. These will get very squishy if you add them too soon.

Healthy eating!

Gotta try this

2008-11-03T08:00:00.000-05:00

I finally splurged and bought a cast iron casserole pot thingy. I was so excited that I decided to go ahead and make one of my favorite Autumn dishes--clam chowder. I got this recipe from Rachel Ray, but I've doctored it a little. This is just a basis, so change it as you want.

Ingredients:

4 small cans of chopped clams with the juice
3 ribs of celery, diced
4 slices of bacon, cut into 1/2 in pieces
1 small onion or 1/2 of regular size (I can never find small onions), diced
2 teaspoons thyme leaves
salt and pepper
3 cups of chicken broth
1 pint of half and half, or 2 cups of whole milk, milk, whatever your cow brings you
potato--I am not a huge potato fan, so I only dice one Idaho potato. Dice as much as you want or you can try adding frozen hash browns.
2-3 tablespoons of butter
2-3 tablespoons of flour
dash or 2 of hot sauce

Do this:

Place bacon and butter in a big pot (my new casserole pot thingy came in handy here!). Once the butter melts and the bacon starts to cook, put in onion and celery. Let cook about 5 min or so. Add thyme and hot sauce. I add about 10 shakes or so of the hot sauce--not enough to make my nose run, but enough to smell it cooking. Add the flour. Let cook about 1 minute.

Add the broth slowly as you use your spoon to scrap up any brown stuff on the bottom of the pan. Keep stirring to thoroughly mix flour and broth. Add milk. I do use half and half because the cream helps the chowder get thick and tasty. Add potato. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat. Add the clams (be sure and add the juice too). Salt and pepper as desired. Be careful the clams will be salty...start small, taste, then add if necessary. Cook about 15 min over medium to medium low heat.

This is fabulous with sourdough bread. You can be really cool and serve it in a bread bowl. Or just eat it without bread. I don't care....I love it with bread, on my head, in a bed, wearing red.....

I've added carrots with the celery (didn't like it as well--carrots are sweet). I've tried doing it low fat--skim milk, margarine, turkey bacon. It's ok, but the real stuff is much better. This last time I added about 1/4 cup of slurry of corn starch and cold water--I like thick clam chowder and I cannot put enough flour in it to thicken it. This helped a lot.

Seriously, folks, if you like clam chowder, then you gotta try making this. I cannot stand the canned stuff after making this. It's so easy and very yummy.

Don't be hatin'

2008-10-31T08:00:00.000-04:00

I really debated on posting this. I typically don't comment on any books I read because I enjoy reading and I want people to read. I don't want someone to discourage anyone from reading. But I was so appalled by the overwhelming cheers from thousands of LDS women and teen girls that I have to comment on Twilight.

I'm definitely behind the times. Twilight came out awhile ago (2006?), but I hadn't really heard of it until last year when I went to Utah. Then I couldn't get away from it. After a couple of friends encouraged me (i.e. browbeat me into it), I finally decided to get it. But, the hold line at the library was ridiculous and I'm too cheap to buy a book that I'm not sure I'll like. So, for my trip to Hawaii, I finally found a copy from a Young Woman in my ward. Her well-used copy was placed in my suitcase and off I went.

For those who don't know (is there ANYONE who doesn't?) the story is about a teen girl, Bella, who meets a vampire, Edward. They fall in love and the fun begins.

I'll try not to give too much away, but let's face it: it's a love story--boy meets girl, they fall in love, some type of obstacle comes up and they overcome it to live happily ever after.

So, let me just tell you what irks me about this book. Why does Bella love Edward? Let me quote her, "....he looked like he'd just finished shooting a commercial for hair gel. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips." That was Bella's thoughts when she first met Edward. And it never changed. She always thought about his beauty, his perfectness. She never talked or thought about any of his characteristics. She declared her love before she even knew much about him.

Why does Edward love Bella? Well, to put it succinctly....because she smells good. He is addicted to her blood (notice not just blood, but her blood calls to him). He struggles throughout the book to resist the call of her blood.

This book is very sensual. True, they don't do the deed, but I can tell you my heart beat faster in some parts of the book. Is it appropriate that a person you are dating to purposely arouse you? And then turns his/her back and actually tells you that it's your fault? Where I come from, that person is called a tease (well, the G-rated version of a name). It's wrong. Lust and arousal are natural feelings, but we are taught to control them and to take care to not invoke those feelings in others.

But Edward has no hesitation to tempt Bella, then caution her to control herself. There was one scene that really torked me. Edward is kissing her neck (hello! girls are pretty sensitive on their neck!) and telling her all the reasons he can't be with her. He then tells her that she has to control herself around him so he won't bite her. What?!? You're kissing my neck, and telling me that I need to be careful so you won't bite me? What about controlling yourself? You could start by not kissing my neck or placing us in situations that would be tempting. Why does Bella have to have the responsibility in this relationship?

Another point that bugged me. Edward was over 80 years old. He "died" when he was 17, so he looked seventeen, but he has lived and experienced life for over 80 years. Wouldn't you think that he was mature and thought/felt as an adult? Then why is he interested in a 17 year old girl? Doesn't that seem a little...perverted? I suppose I wouldn't have as big a problem if she were older, but as a 17 year old, she is still a child in many ways. Why would an 80 year old be interested in a 17 year old? Yeah, that's what I was thinking too.

I'll finish with one other thing that I just didn't like. Bella's attitude regarding her parents was horrific. She only calls them Mom and Dad to their face--to everyone else, she uses their first name. She thinks her father is a redneck who is just there to provide a house for her--she has to take care of him. She thinks her mother is incompetent and even mentally challenged.

Here's the thing. I see how teens can be drawn in with this book. Bella considers herself an outcast, loner, different than the other kids. Nearly all teen girls feel that way about themselves--no matter how popular, smart, or accomplished they may be. Teen girls are notorious for having low self esteem. They can relate to Bella. And Edward has the swoon factor--he's gorgeous. It's every girl's dream that the hot, mysterious, and brooding older guy notices her uniqueness and chooses her over all the other beautiful girls.

But, isn't this book just contributing to the problem that people have of not understanding love? Relating romance and lust/instant attraction to a true unselfish, unconditional love that will last through the hard times? I suppose if you're looking for fluff reading, then Twilight will fulfill that want. But, I can't get past some real issues that I have with this book. I can't bring myself to even desire to read the rest of the series. I have to admit that I'm actually sorry that I didn't like this book--I love vampire stories (good-looking men sucking on my neck thrills me).

Ok, friends, bring it on...tell me where I'm wrong (even though I know I'm right).

Busy!

2008-10-30T17:36:00.004-04:00

After being away from home for a month, I'm busy! I'll really try to get up pics from Hawaii this weekend, but I'll have to mow and prepare a lesson for Sunday. Since I absolutely abhor mowing, it takes me forever and a day to get it done. In the videotape of life, you really should take a moment to watch me mow my lawn--it's quite entertaining as I mutter and grumble to myself, make faces, take a break every 15 min and generally act like a spoiled rotten brat.

BTW, can I just tell you how excited I will be for November 5, 2008? Actually, it's a catch 22 feeling. The elections will be over, so no more stupid ads to listen to, calls from the DNC or GOP to ignore, or flooded election news on TV to scoff at. BUT, I'm afraid that we will be swamped with info about the president-elect. Which I will go on record and say that I think America will see her first black president--that's my prediction. And then I'll have to hide my money to share my wealth with people I choose.

Work Story #2

2008-10-17T12:10:00.000-04:00

We've had several women become pregnant while working for my company. I suppose that's what you get when an office of 50 has about 7 men.

One woman had tried for about a year or so to get pregnant. Her sole goal was to start a family and at the age of 23 she was very discouraged that it was taking so long and would lament about her difficulties.

Then one day, she came to the office excited that she had a doctor's appointment that day. She thought she was pregnant, but wanted it confirmed with her physician. She came into the office very chipper and bouncy. As she left to go to her doctor's appointment, she fairly flew out the door.

She returned to the office later that day and announced that she was indeed pregnant. What was interesting was that she was now very happy, but her walking had changed. Instead of being light on her feet, she now waddled and held her back due to the newly acquired back pain. In the space of a few hours, her pregnancy affected her ability to walk and sit.

As her pregnancy progressed, she was very vocal about her symptoms of nausea, back pain, ravenous eating, swelling body, etc. One afternoon, another lady returned from lunch. As she began to pull her chair out of her desk to sit down, she noticed that there was something under her desk! Lo and behold, preggo girl was so tired at her 10th week pregnancy that she had to take a nap. She chose to sleep under a cow-orker's desk instead of her own!

When asked, preggo said that the baby was making her exhausted and she chose the cow-orker's desk since it faced away from the hall and no one would disturb her.

That happened several years ago, but whenever someone at work complains of fatigue, we simply suggest crawling under their desk to nap--it worked before.

Work Story #1

2008-10-16T09:00:00.000-04:00

I've been saying for a long time that I should write some memoirs of the stories from my place of employment. We've had some doozies. So, I'll start with one of the most bizarre.

A few years ago, I worked with a woman who was "interesting." She just didn't think like others. As I was chit-chatting with another female cow-orker, she came up to tell us that she had had an accident in her underwear (she was wearing a dress that day). She continued her story by telling us she took off her underwear, washed them in the restroom, then took them outside to hang them to dry. We asked her where she hung them. She said she placed them on top of a bush (all the bushes were in front of actual offices). Thus, someone in another office could gaze out of his window and find pink women's underwear on the bush directly next to his window!

I couldn't understand why she didn't go to the Target or Walmart that is literally a 5 minute drive from our office to purchase new ones. Nor could I understand why she choose us to air her dirty laundry (pun intended).

Later that day, she reported to us that her underwear had dried and she was able to put them on....while behind the bush. When we asked her if anyone was in the office, she asked us, "What office?" She didn't know that behind the big window she stood in front of was an office with people who really work there.

Don't Talk to Strangers

2008-10-15T09:00:00.000-04:00

I belong to a few online forums. For those who don't know, a forum is a place to express thoughts and ideas, usually on a topic. I belong to primarily LDS forums--I don't want to be involved in a place that is immoral or uses language I'd rather not hear (read).

I ran across my first forum by accident. I was looking online for something and ran across the website www.nauvoo.com. I thought it was a website about Nauvoo, IL. What I found instead was a group of people who had firm testimonies, strong opinions, and a desire to be perfected in Christ. I "lurked" for a long time (meaning, I read the forum, but never participated). Finally, I decided to join and have a chance to interact with them.

Last year, I began communicating with one of the posters from Nauvoo. Through emails and chatting, we really got to know one another. When I decided to go to Utah for Education Week, she offered her house as a hotel. I also got to know a couple of others from Nauvoo and one of them offered a resort to share the cost of staying near BYU. I thought it was a great opportunity to meet new people and make new friends.

My friends at home thought I had lost my mind. They were appalled that I had agreed to not only communicate with complete strangers, but actually stay with them. I never once had any misgivings about any of the people with whom I would stay. What I found difficult to explain was that I really believed them to be members of the church who were honorable. They asked me how I knew they weren't lying to me. The Church has its own jargon--very distinct. It's usually pretty easy to spot someone who is lying because they will use the jargon inappropriately very quickly. Since they don't belong to any organization like the Church, they couldn't understand my explanation of the jargon. Not to mention that the gift of the Holy Ghost adds an assurance.

That experience made me realize what blessing the Church is in another unexpected manner. I've been to church services in many places including Washington DC, Florida, Hawaii, Bulgaria, Columbia, California, etc. Although there are some differences, they are minor. I know exactly what to expect in each ward I attend. In addition, I can know when someone is actually a member of the church and have a level of trust with that person. There are no guarantees in life nor are there perfect people, however, knowing someone is a faithful member of the Church allows me to know things about that person. And I can trust that part of that person.

I'm grateful to the church for so many reasons. One of which is my ability to "know" someone instantly when I learn they are faithful members of the Lord's Church.

Hick or Haute Couture?

2008-10-14T09:00:00.000-04:00

I was watching one of my favorite channels, The Food Network. Rachel Ray has a new show (yes, her 1,385th) in which she and her husband go to a city on vacation and eat. Recently, they were in Montreal eating at these fancy restaurants. You know the kind. A huge plate with 2 oz of food in the middle and drizzled oil or something to decorate the plate.

Anyway, this restaurant was named "Pied de Cochon." It sounds so nice...it's French so it sounds wonderful. Do you know what it means? It means "The Pig's Foot."

That made me think. Here in Indiana, a restaurant called "The Pig's Foot" would be a barbecue joint that used paper napkins, plastic forks, and served pulled pork sandwiches and greens. In Montreal, this place served fish egg decorated plates of gold plated salmon--literally--there's a gold leaf that you can eat.

I was reminded of an anniversary party I went to a couple of years ago. It was the 50th anniversary of a lady at work. They had a to-do at a hotel which catered a three course dinner. Very nice ambiance.

While being served our dinner, I remarked to my cow-orker next to me that my family is very different from this family. My family would have an anniversary party in our backyard with paper plates and soda cans. Our entertainment would have been each member of our family making fun of another member of the family (oftentimes, I fall in the latter category). Instead, I ate a three course dinner, refusing offers of wine of various vines, while being regaled with tales of adventure and culture of this couple as they celebrated 50 years together.

Although I was able to fit in nicely, I think I would enjoy "The Pig's Foot" more than "Pied de Cochon". It's fun to dress up and have professionally prepared food. I enjoy celebrating accomplishments of my friends. But I have to say that I'm a hick--raised in a barn, dyed in the wool, slap your momma hick. Let me eat with my fingers, drink soda out of a Mason jar, wear my jeans and feel the grass under my bare feet--that's talking to my hick heart.

I know you!

2008-10-13T09:33:00.002-04:00

Do you ever have those moments when you meet someone and you just know you've met them before? People think they have already met me a lot of times--I must have a very common looking face. But, it's not often that I meet someone that I know I met before and not remember.

Mom told me that when I was a baby, she and I were in a grocery store and I saw a man. I immediately smiled and held my hands out to him to pick me up. She said I could not keep my eyes off of him and it was apparent that I recognized him. What made this even more unusual was the man was a black man--and I had shown fear of black men in the past. Mom loved to tell the story of when I was a child and saw a black man and screamed "A monster, Mommy!" while pointing to him.

Once when I was in a store, the cashier recognized me and immediately began talking to me about the party we attended the weekend before. I didn't know her and had not attended a party the weekend before, but thought I'd just have some fun. I made non-committal noises until she realized that I was not who she thought I was.

Recently, I went to Cincinnati to do a presentation. We met with potential clients and their brokers. While I was shaking hands with one of the brokers, we both asked simultaneously, "How do I know you?" I recognized her as someone that I had met and spent a little time with, but didn't "hang out"with her. I thought that that meant I knew her from a church function. So I asked her, "Are you LDS?" When she looked puzzled, I realized that she is NOT Mormon and so I explained that if she didn't know what that meant, she isn't. I let her know I was Mormon and thought maybe we knew each other from church. We never did solve the puzzle of our acquaintance. Our paths have never crossed in educational or professional pursuits. But, I still think I know her somehow.

How does this happen? I'm sure that sometimes it is simply a matter of looking like someone else. But, how do you explain those instances when they aren't? For example, when little children seem to recognize a stranger. I've always been told it was a "spiritual recognition." Perhaps that is it. I know that I've felt a connection to someone (not necessarily recognizing them, but feeling that instant connection) and wondered if that connection started pre-mortally.

I wonder and hope that the same experience will happen when I see Jesus. I want to exclaim, "I know You!" Afterall, He knows me and His eyes will have that light of recognition when we meet again.

Jumping my battery

2008-10-12T12:00:00.002-04:00

I returned from my trip to paradise. It was fabulous! When I get a chance, I'll post some pics and stories.

I returned home to find that my car battery had given up the ghost. My friend, who used my car to take me to the airport, left my lights on all week long. Thankfully, my cute-younger-than-me-and-so-out-of-my-league neighbor was home (he's a cop--have I mentioned my previous obsession with police officers???--it doesn't help with my infatuation with Cute Boy). He was able to jump my battery (I mean my car battery! although my battery gets a little jump when I see him).

I then traveled to Kansas City MO the next day to work 2.5 weeks in training new employees. While there, during lunch, one of the guys who works in the lunchroom and I struck up a conversation. He complimented me on my eyes and then asked me out! Whoa! That hasn't happened in...well...longer than I care to admit.

I was very flattered and although he seems nice enough, not truly interested. First and most importantly, he is not a member of the Church. The scary thing is, I actually considered accepting simply to stroke my ego.

I realized that as a woman I loved getting compliments from anyone. I often get compliments on things in which I have utter confidence--my work abilities, my testimony, my social behavior, etc. But, those things in which I have little confidence craves attention. As a single woman in the Church, women pay me compliments often--men do not. I don't meet single men in the Church (at least not of a legal age) and married men do not compliment me (rightfully so!).

As I contemplated his offer of a date, I thought of accepting to have something to do while in another city, or to go out on a date--something I haven't done in a very long time. But I realized that my desires were very selfish--I was thinking of what I could receive from a simple date. I didn't even consider that by accepting I may be implying more of an interest. Hadn't I always told myself that I wouldn't date non-members?

As I traveled home, I worried that my car battery would need to be jumped again. After all, it had been sitting a very long time without a spark. I laughed as I realized that my own battery had received a jump after an extended time period without a spark. My car battery had kept its juice and started easily. How long will my personal battery last with its latest jumpstart???

I'm leaving on a jet plane.....

2008-09-26T20:30:00.004-04:00

.....and will be landing in Hawaii! Woo! Hoo! I'll be gone for a week snorkeling, sunning, snoozing, and socializing.

And then when I get back, I'll leave for Missouri to work for 2 1/2 weeks. I'll be doing some training of new employees and bragging about my tan. I'm not sure when I'll be able to post pics and stories of Hawaii here. I'll try to do so in between my training, but no promises.

Dovizhdane! Ciao! Adios! Adieu! Auf Wiedersehen! So long, farewell, goodbye! Aloha!

Keep your health sharp!

2008-09-24T12:15:00.001-04:00

We had a health fair today at work. Check out your blood pressure, glucose, HDL, cholesterol, weight, and get a flu shot all provided by my place of employment. And they had yummy, healthy snacks!

I absolutely hate getting shots. Actually, anything to do with a needle. In fact, the Blood Mobile (yes, they call it that) asked me to stop donating blood because of my adverse reaction to needles--I swooned each time. Don't you like that word, swoon? It sounds so much better than faint, or pass out, or fall down and bust your bum. Anyway, I don't like needles.

Of course, the first thing they do is give me a flu shot. This nurse was good at her job--she distracted me from my childish fear of a little, bitty, sharp thing that hurts less than a paper cut.

Then they take my blood pressure. Hah! Normally, I have very good blood pressure. At my physical each year, either the doctor or nurse will comment on my excellent BP numbers (I think it's to find something positive after they check my weight). Obviously, they've never introduced me to a needle at my yearly physical. Because today, my blood pressure was VERY high. They took it 3 times--twice with the automatic cuff and once with the manual cuff.

I'm not worried about it since I normally do have good numbers, but I had to sign something that said they warned me of the danger of high blood pressure and advised me to seek medical attention. What do they know? My cure for high blood pressure is relaxing on a beach with the sound of the waves. Someplace like Hawaii would be an expensive cure for hypertension. What a coincidence--I'm going to Hawaii this Saturday!

Medical Humor

2008-09-23T15:15:00.000-04:00

I read medical records all day long. Ok, not all day, but a good part of the day. That means that I understand medical terms and use them quite frequently. One of those is when someone has heart bypass surgery. The medical term is Corornary Artery Bypass Graft--or CABG, pronounced cabbage, for short.

Once upon a time, when my mom had to go into the hospital, I had to fill out the medical forms for her. Did you know that you have to complete the same forms no matter how soon you filled them out? She was in the same hospital about 2 weeks before where I had to complete the forms, and I was told that they had to be completed again. You'd think they would have record of it since it was the same hospital!

Anyway, I got to the section about previous care and surgeries. I knew my mom's medical history pretty good (after all I just completed the form 2 weeks previously!), but couldn't remember when she had her CABG. So, I turned to mom lying on the gurney (she was conscious and aware, thank you) and asked, "Mom, do you remember when you had your CABG?" She thought for a moment and said, "Honey, I think your dad and I had sauerkraut last Thursday." Since I was the only one that really understood medical terms, she and dad couldn't figure out why I was laughing so hard that I was crying.

Why me??

2008-09-21T13:59:00.002-04:00

So, you saw what I had to come home to the other day. Some green, wriggly thing. I got up this morning and behold, what did I see? Another bug! This time a wasp somehow got into my house and was crawling on my floor.

Seriously, buy stock in Raid, because my use of it is surely driving up the stock prices. That boost on Wall Street the other day had nothing to do the bailout from the government. Nope, Raid Company, has had a huge increase in consumer demand.

Language of Love

2008-09-17T11:59:00.001-04:00

I love to hear my dad talk. He has lived in this country well over 50 years. But he still speaks with a thick accent. When he is excited or angry, the accent gets thicker. I've already shared a couple of examples of his word usage.

Here's a quick dictionary to help you understand him if you speak with him:

Pilla = pillow OR medicinal pills
Bolla = bottle
Maffew = Matthew
Watta = water
DVD = DVD or CD or anything recorded
Alfa Alfa = alfalfa
Oprah = Oprah or okra
Prawly = probably

I'll have to add more later because (the scary part) I don't hear the mistakes anymore. They sound natural....hmmm....I wonder if I sleep on my pilla??

Eww, eww, ewwwww!

2008-09-17T09:00:00.001-04:00

I came home to this yesterday. Have no idea what it is and from whence it came. I used my Raid on it and then "picked" it up with 2 pieces of junk mail. (shudder) I hate, hate, hate creepy, crawlin', flyin', things.

Bossy Beef

2008-09-16T11:27:00.009-04:00

I recently had a good friend be hospitalized for a very serious heart attack. We had some leftovers of Hurricane Ike on Sunday and as a result, my place of employment had no electricity. So I got a free day off yesterday. Then I found out that my friend was in the hospital and not doing well.

I'm friends with his wife and him through her. He's younger than I am and almost lost his life several times. I spent the day at the hospital to give my friend a break so she could go home and rest.

As I sat in that hospital waiting room (I came prepared--I brought several different reading materials and Mountain Dew) I was reminded constantly of my mom and the difficulties and waiting I went through when she was so sick. I realized that as I sat there yesterday what a strange blessing it was to go through that hell. I was able to help my friend in a way I never would have before. I knew how exhausted she was--how much she needed to know someone was at the hospital while she left for a little while--how to help her think of what questions to ask the doctor--what to expect now that he is doing better and will live with some serious cardiac problems--how to offer compassion and understanding with practical advice.

It was a weird moment for me as those thoughts ran through my mind. I hated having to see my mom in that situation and deal with everything that went with it. But I remember thinking at that time, that I was grateful to know what kind of person I was. I react very well in a crisis--I handle the moment and then fall apart. I always thought I was the opposite--falling apart and then trying to deal with the crisis. Now, with my friend's situation, I realized I'm the same way when it comes to other people's crisis. So often I want to help, but honestly don't know what to do. This time, I knew what to do and I just did it--didn't ask her to help or make any suggestions. Just told her I was coming and that she can leave to rest.

I suppose I wouldn't be a good Mormon if I didn't find the learning moment in this experience. What I learned was that sometimes my bossy nature is a blessing.

Manners challenged

2008-09-11T09:00:00.002-04:00

I belong to a few online LDS forums. On one of them recently, a discussion ensued regarding wedding etiquette. And I discovered that I am manners challenged. You see, apparently it is in bad taste to mail those little cards that show where a couple is registered. I thought they were a great idea--get an invite to a barely known acquaintance and now you know what you can get them for a mere $10.00. Otherwise, I'll spend $25.00 on a gift card (I can't be that obvious in my cheapness). But, apparently, sending those in an announcement or invitation offends those who know manners.

They mentioned quite a few other issues where most people (i.e. me) lack manners. I had never worried about it before. But now I'm wondering if there is something to this.

Because, you see, I don't know what Ms. Manners would say about blog etiquette. When I visit a blog, am I required to leave a comment? What about those blogs that I visit by chance and just decide that I want to read the intimate thoughts of a complete and total stranger? Do they expect or want me to leave a comment?

And what about my blog? Do I send a thank you card to those who take the time to leave a comment? I appreciate the comments--I do! It's nice to think that someone actually took 3 min (5 min if you're a slow reader) to read my post and then actually take extra time to leave a comment. But, should I respond to that comment? If so, how? Should I make a comment myself? Do I send an email?

{big sigh} I just don't know the proper way of anything. So here's a great big thank you to anyone who takes the time to read or comment. My Target registration card is in the mail.

It's just protein

2008-09-08T09:00:00.000-04:00

Did you ever have a friend who would eat anything? I do mean ANYTHING. When I was little, Ryan was the neighborhood kid who would eat dirt, leaves, twigs, bugs, anything. It was disgusting, but fascinating. The other kids would stand around him and dare him to eat the grossest thing we could think of, which was usually some kind of insect. And when he did, we couldn't look away, but would screw up our face into a contortion that our Moms would say would freeze. But we didn't look away--uh huh--he might not swallow.

When I was on my mission, I was convinced that my companion had a stomach lined with iron. She would eat my share of food that I simply could not eat. My companion and I met an old lady who loved for us to come see her. We taught her the discussions, but it soon became apparent that she wasn't interested in learning about the Gospel, but rather, she wanted to visit with the nice American girls. One of the last times we visited with her, she served us dinner consisting of bean soup and bread. As I was eating (I had consumed about half of the soup), I noticed that Sister B. was no longer eating. Oh she was subtle, that one. But, it was undeniable, she was not eating. When I asked her why, she simply used her spoon to point out something extra in her soup--a maggot. After I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat, I looked in my bowl and saw that I had my own extra protein.

I don't think I've ever come as close to hurling instantaneously as I did at that moment. She, the iron-lined stomach companion, also struggled to contain the contents of her stomach.

A few months later, another companion and I were at a home of some investigators. They had returned from a wedding they attended and shared some of the wedding cake with us. Bulgarian wedding cake is called a torte and is extremely sweet. I never liked eating torte but knew that if I didn't even attempt it, our hosts would be offended.

As I struggled to get down an acceptable amount, I noticed that I had a hair in my torte. I very subtly grasped the end of the hair and began to pull it out. However, it never stopped coming! This hair was about 12 inches long and in the middle of the hair was what looked like a hairball. No, I didn't finish the torte.

Recently, I went to my Dad's garden that he has with one of our cousins. At my cousin's house are a couple of large apple trees (do you see where this is going?). Dad picked up about a half a dozen apples for me to take home. While at work, I ate about 3 bites or so. On my next bite, a large chunk was removed and still in my teeth when something caught my eye. The apple in my hand had movable parts! A lovely, white and black worm was wiggling away. My stomach began to wiggle as I quickly spit out the bite in my mouth and threw the rest of the apple in the trash.

I'll save the story of the flying peach bug or the extra protein in rice for some other time. Excuse me while I go to the bathroom........

STOP teasing me!

2008-09-05T09:00:00.001-04:00

I consider myself an intelligent woman. But I have moments that I wonder about that intelligence. Let me share one.

Remember my jokester friend? Once while we were at church, he began to feel unwell and needed a ride home. I offered to take him which entailed driving the backroads through a lot of cornfields. There were a lot of 4-way stops and being the law-abiding citizen that I am, I actually stopped at them. Well, J. informed me that at a 4-way stop, you didn't have to come to a complete stop if the stop sign had a white border and there were no other cars. I didn't believe him at first, but he convinced me he was serious.

We then come up to the next 4-way stop--and I blow through it. There were no cars and there was a white border on the stop sign. J. screams at me, asking me what I was doing and why I didn't even slow down. I calmly reminded him that the stop sign had a white border, so I didn't need to stop. He rolled his eyes and informed me that ALL stop signs have white borders. Huh, who knew?

Sleep crushing??

2008-09-04T17:15:00.000-04:00

Remember my love for Donny? Let me tell you how obsessed I can be.

I get together with some of my high school girlfriends once a month. There are 6 of us that meet together for food, fun, and fellowship. One time we decided to have a slumber party. Yeah, yeah, six 30 somethings having a sleep over sounds funny. Maybe that's why only 3 of us actually did it.

We went to D.'s house and K. claimed the couch. I took the floor and D. was a baby and actually slept in her own bed--in another room. Dork. Anyway, K. and I fell asleep with the TV on.

This was during the time that Donny had finished production of the DVD version of "Joseph and the Technicolor Dream Coat." Well, as we were sleeping, a commercial came on for the DVD. Out of a sound sleep, I raised up and exclaimed that I had to write down this number. K. woke up wondering what was going on.

The next morning, K. laughingly told the story to anyone who would listen. She couldn't believe that I would wake up from a sound sleep to write down a number for Donny. But, there on a piece of paper was the number written barely legible with Donny's name next to it.

Bye, Bye, Bulgaria

2008-09-03T09:00:00.000-04:00

I always have mixed feelings going to Bulgaria. On the one hand, I love it. I miss the people, food, culture, language, etc. I loved my mission despite the difficulties that I had. I have family there that make me laugh. I have a heritage that I love learning about. However, I'm spoiled now. I like clean showers, toilets that can handle toilet paper, ice, air conditioning, washing machines, etc. And I like families members who don't drive me absolutely batty.

Let's start with a typical day in the life of the older Bulgarians.

Yep, those are goats coming home at night. Although the laws have changed, the ways of the people are slower to change. It is now illegal to have animals in the city limits (other than typical pets). Many people still rely on gardens and orchards and farm animals. My uncle has chickens, pig, sheep and goats to supplement their food supply. Each family takes turns taking the sheep/goats to the pasture to feed for the day. When they come home the animals know their own home. They automatically go to their pen.

Here is my uncle's neighbor. He has several beehives that he keeps and found this hive in his neighbor's tree. So, he's cutting down the branch to take home to add to his hives. He can then store honey and honeycomb and sell it.

This is a typical scene. I wish I could have gotten a picture of the man in a horse drawn cart talking on his cell phone. Technology has hit, but only so far.

Wanna see the bathroom that has given me nightmares? This is at my uncle's house. This bathroom is not accessible from the rest of the house. You have the shower, then the toilet area, then the pigpen, then the sheep/goat pen. The toilet area shares the wall with the pigs. See the red bucket? That holds water that you use to flush the toilet. But due to the system, the toilet never really flushes completely--there are always "floaties" left.

You can see a green trashcan next to the toilet. The sewer system in Bulgaria cannot accommodate anything other than human waste. So, trashcans are next to all the toilets to dispose of the toilet paper after you are done with it. Needless to say, due to the proximity of the animals and this waste filled can, there are tons of flies and other bugs. The shower is difficult to see, but there is mold on the floor. In order to take a shower, I have to wear shoes. I only took one shower this last time. I couldn't handle it. I would wash my hair and face in the outside sink which didn't have hot water.

Here's the bathroom at Bogdon's house. This is in his home and is so much nicer. I actually looked forward to staying there and showering. Let me explain what you're looking at. The whole bathroom is the shower. I'm standing in the doorway and there are two small steps to go down into the bathroom. Immediately under the bottom step is the showerhead--you can barely see the pipes for it at the top of the picture. You could wash your feet while sitting on the toilet. Or shave at the mirror while rinsing your hair. Actually, I kinda like this (ok, maybe have the toilet in a separate room)--no shower walls to be confined or need to clean.

Let's step out of the bathroom now.

I don't know who this woman is...I saw her walking while I was in Drabishna (which means she's probably related to me somehow). So many of the older people are bent over like this (some even worse). After picking so many green beans at my dad's garden this past weekend, I believe it's due to the hard work they do in their gardens. Seriously. You see them in their homes or out in the fields, bent over for hours on end. My back hurt from an hour of picking green beans...I can't imagine being like that for a full day.

I saw this truck one day while walking back from the store. Doesn't it look like it's straight out of Schlinder's List or maybe Raiders of the Lost Ark? Then you have Francis there blocking traffic--ok, no traffic now, but there could be.

Notice this garbage truck? Notice the make? Yeah, it's a Mercedes. We get Mack trucks here and Bulgaria uses Mercedes for trash trucks. Crazy! But, check out the sign for this place. They speak English about as well as I speak Bulgarian.

Did I tell you that I fear Bulgarian police? No, I'm serious. When I was on my mission, the missionaries were persecuted by a lot of people, including the police. If a policeman saw us, he would make a point to harrass us. We had 2 officers come to our door once and try to get in to take us to jail. And one "officer" (he wasn't wearing a uniform and he refused to show us a badge when asked) threatened to take my passport or take me to jail. So, yeah, I'm a little nervous around Bulgarian police.

The day we left Ivailovgrad to spend our final week at the Black Sea, my cousin, Tanyou, came to say goodbye before he went to work.

Here he's hauling in my brother. My brother said this position brought flashbacks....hee, hee. While on our way to Kornobat (we stayed with my cousin Ivanka and her husband Ivan--see? common name), Tanyou and his partner passed us in their car. They had arrested someone and were taking that person to jail.

And finally, here's a bit of the Black Sea. We stayed near the coast in the town of Nessebar. My cousin, Ivan, (there's that name again) got us a hotel room for a couple of nights. It was actually a nice hotel room. We spent one day touring the Old City as it's called. My picture on my blog is taken at the Old City.

Here's a video of the Black Sea. It's called the Black Sea because when the clouds hit it, the shadows are very dark or black.

I have to let you know that I took this video with my photo camera--it was new to me and I had a doozie of a time figuring out how to do the video. Then, I forget I'm actually TAKING video, so that explains my mad narration skillz. And finally, I'm going on record to say I really don't like the sound of my speaking voice (does anyone?). I don't sound like that in my head.

Scenes from Bulgaria

2008-09-02T09:00:00.000-04:00

Let's now take a look at some scenery from Bulgaria. Bulgaria is about the size of Tennessee. If I knew how to draw an arrow, I'd point out the area of Ivailvgrad, my dad's hometown. Since I can't, you can go to this map and make it larger. Towards the bottom right of the map, you'll see a town called "Svilengrad." That's about 5 miles from where dad lives--I walked the road there one day--ok I walked half-way there. Later, my cousin drove us there. In fact, here is a picture of me trying to go over the Greek border fence:

The sign says (not literally, but the idea), "Border lookout. You are forbidden to cross." Over my shoulder is a guard tower and the guards with binoculars and big guns were watching us.

Bulgaria is a lot like the Midwest--green in spring and summer, colorful in the fall, and cold/snowy in winter. One difference, though is Bulgaria has mountains--not like the Rocky Mountains but more like the Appalachian Mountains.

Here is a great picture of a typical neighborhood in Ivailovgrad (on the left). I need to explain that the bigger cities do not have a lot of homes.

In Sofia, the capital and where I served my mission, there were very few homes, but a lot of apartment buildings (like the one on the right).

Let's look at my dad's village, Drabishna. Each town has a village associated with it. Villages are typically a lot smaller and tend to be used more for gardening or farming purposes. I'm not sure what I was thinking, but I didn't get any pictures of Dad's house where he was born. I think since I'd been there before, I didn't feel the need--dumb me...those pics are in paper form and not digital.

That's my brother getting water from a spring in our village. They used to have a lot of spigots throughout the village, but they shut down quite a few of them. We had to drive almost to the Greek border (about 3 miles) to get to this one. That water was delicious! So cold! Mmmm.

Here is the old church in Drabishna. My dad used to be an alter boy there. The state religion is Bulgarian Orthodox which is similar to Greek Orthodox which is sorta like Catholics (there are differences, but for those who don't know much about Orthodox, Catholicism is close).

Let's leave Drabishna now. Above is a picture of the hill/mountain in Ivailovgrad. It's difficult to see, but there are German bunkers on this mountain. During the 30's and 40's, the Germans built bunkers on the mountains. The bunkers were used to communicate--reminded me of Lord of the Rings when the fires were lit on the mountains. The same concept--lights were used as the bunkers were several miles away from each other. Anyway, a few years ago, a group of people decided that although the bunkers are history, they are part of a nasty period. So to try to change that image, they decided to put a cross on the bunkers. Thus, this picture is a cross that was built directly on top of the bunker. They didn't do it to all the bunkers, just this one.

Something that is wonderful about Bulgaria. Their major export is rose oil. And rose oil is used in nearly anything that has a fragrance. Even if the fragrance isn't rose, there is rose oil in it. Thus, roses are everywhere. This picture was a rose in my cousin's yard. I thought the two-tone look was very unusual. Up top is a rose tree. Yeah, we have rose bushes, but this bush grew so big that it looks like a tree. We estimated that the branches were about 3 inches thick.

Here are some pics that I took that I just like.

This last picture is a little "museum" Bogdon has at his house. He has collected a lot of stuff that are antique (or at least really old). Many things in there were made from his father or grandfathers. It's a nice little tribute that I really like (and Dad always threatens him that he's going to take some things from there).

Bulgarian family

2008-09-01T09:00:00.004-04:00

One major reason to return to Bulgaria is family. My dad is from Bulgaria--born and raised there. He left when he was 13 and finally made it to America by age 18. He was the youngest of 3 brothers, but one brother died about 11 years ago. Here's a picture of Dad and his brother, Christo. I'm named after this uncle.

Although, my dad loves his family....they drive him batty. Well, let me clarify. This brother and his family drives Dad nuts. They argue incessantly. My brother, who does not speak Bulgarian, noticed immediately how annoying this family can be. Unfortunately, I didn't notice that I didn't take any other pictures of this part of the family. I think I was too busy running away from the arguing to notice I didn't take pics.

Here's a picture of my cousin, Bogdon, dad, and brother. Bogdon is my dad's deceased brother's son. By the way, my brother's name is William Boyd named after my dad's other brother, Bogdon. Yep, you guessed it, my brother's name in Bulgarian is Bogdon. Whenever my cousin and brother were near each other, I called them Bogdon Squared.

Here's a picture of Bogdon which clues you in to what type of personality he has.

This last picture is a picture of my dad, brother, cousin's husband, Nasco, my Chinka (aunt), my cousin, Mata (she is the sister of Bogdon and daughter of Chinka), and me. Notice the background. The large building to the left is a "bloc" or apartment building. It is more common for people to live in an apartment than it is to live in a home. Especially for people living in the larger cities. The town of Ivailovgrad has about 3,000 people.

This is my cousin--he works in the Bulgarian Navy much like our Seals. Much of his work is secret--not even his wife knows exactly where he is at any moment. There was a magazine that did an article on his troop and he was on the cover of this magazine. Cool, huh? And isn't he handsome?

I laughed when I look at this next picture. When Dad and I went back 10 years ago, there were 4 little girls who adored me. Seriously. They were about 6-10 years old at the time and I couldn't do anything without having them hold my hand, lean against me, or sit in my lap. I couldn't eat lunch because they would not get off me. These girls are now young women and were so excited to see me again. Although they didn't sit in my lap this time, they did hang out with me the whole time we were at their house. They monopolized my attention. So cute. Anyway, the man in the back with the white hair is my Dad's cousin that he grew up with. He is also the cousin that had planned to go with Dad when he was going to run away to America. Dad showed up at the appointed place/time, and Georgi didn't. The rest is history.....

I'll end on a slightly sad note. This is the gravestone of my cousin, Ivan (popular name, right?). He was very wealthy, even by American standards. Remember the story of the spit? He's that cousin. When he passed away, this is the gravestone his family chose. The stones in Bulgaria are not this elaborate. Even by American standards, this is pretty impressive. Ivan was larger in life when he was alive; it seems appropriate that his gravestone be loud as well.

By the way, the gravestone gives his name, birth date, death date, and the bottom says, "His life was stormy, but honest and peaceful." I think this is a Bulgarian cliche that essentially means that he lived hard, but full of honesty and good will.

Baby, it's cold!

2008-08-31T09:00:00.001-04:00

I went back to Bulgaria recently with my dad and brother. I served my mission there and my dad is originally from there.

While there, my dad got really sick. I play doctor at work, so I diagnosed him with too much milk products (he's lactose sensitive), too much activity with little sleep, and too much annoying family members.

However, ALL (and I do mean ALL) the Bulgarians (family, friends, acquaintances) said he suffered from too much cold. It was a pleasant 80-85 degrees while there. What cold you ask? Cold water, ice, and leaving the windows open at night.

You see, Americans apparently are full of sickos because we like to be cool when it's hot. Bulgarians are afraid of the cold. I truly don't understand it. When Dad and I went back about 10 years ago, we could not find ice. Some restaurants had ice and when they did, we would ask for LOTS of ice. That meant to a Bulgarian to give, at most, 3 small pieces (their ice comes in the size of an oversized marble--maybe Milkdud size).

Here's a picture of my cousin (in the red), my aunt (dad's sister-in-law), my dad, and me. Notice Chinka's clothing? Yeah, she's wearing a woolen vest, with tights, and a scarf. When it gets really hot, she'll remove the vest.

Anyway, Bulgarians are starting to use ice a little more now, so we were able to find some. But they came packaged...seriously. You know the bubble-wrap you get in packages? The kind that are fun to pop? Well, imagine something similar, but instead of air in the bubble, there was ice. And the plastic was some kind that was demon-made because it was thick and hard to get the ice out. I lost so many pieces of ice to the dirt floor because of the devil inspired packaging.

Dad had planned on staying 2 weeks after my brother and I left, but once he got sick, he wanted to come home with us. So, after some expensive cell phone calls and texts, we got his ticket changed. Once he got word that he was coming home with us, he had a miraculous recovery. Ok, not miraculous, but he did start feeling a lot better.

He said that he won't be going back again. Of course, he said that 10 years ago when he and I visited and it was literally 100+ degrees there.....

Dobrey Doshlee na Bulgaria

2008-08-30T00:10:00.002-04:00

That's "Welcome to Bulgaria" in Bulgarian for the non-speakers. This picture is the sign into my Dad's hometown. Just so you know, the name means "city/town of Ivan" and my Dad's name is Ivan in Bulgarian. But the town isn't named after Dad--Ivan is just a very, very popular name. In fact, in my family we have my Dad's uncle Ivan, Dad is Ivan, his niece is Ivanka, she is married to Ivan, they have a grandson named Ivan, Dad's brother has a grandson named Ivan. YIKES!

So, let's look at another fun picture of Bulgaria.

Bulgaria is getting more and more American. Too much, in my opinion....but that's a different post. Notice the sign beneath the big M? It says McDrive and that means they have a drive thru. Although no one was using it while we were there--and it was busy. I don't think the lazy American way has caught on there yet.

Let me show you one more picture from Bulgaria. This is one reason why I love Bulgaria. I love their open market shopping.

See the men on the left side of the pic? After I took this picture, I wanted to get the other side and so pointed my camera that way. The tall man standing in front of the 2 older men in lighter shirts (the tall man is looking at me) quickly walked away right after this pic. A lot of the people there still have Communism fears--picture taking means they can find you anywhere.

Also, notice the cobblestone street. I absolutely love that look. But it plays heck with your shoes. I ruined so many shoes while on my mission. In fact, many of the sister missionaries wore Doc Martens (I called them combat boots) because we just couldn't keep our shoes from developing holes so quickly. I never got into that look--I just kept buying shoes or wearing my holey shoes.

More pictures to follow......

Who is still reading this?

2008-08-29T16:54:00.004-04:00

It's been so long since I've written anything. I'm thinking that now I'm writing just for me. Which is fine...I like me and find my conversation interesting.

I've been in a slump for a long time. It actually started getting worse around the time I went to Bulgaria. I know that my sleeping problems are a big part of it. And Bulgaria was definitely not good for sleep--the travel, the time difference, the bed bugs all contribute to lack of sleep.

But, now I'm back and looking foward to my trip to Hawaii. Which will probably mess with my sleep again--the travel, the time difference, but hopefully no bed bugs.

What was I talking about? Oh, yeah...my depression. I'm trying to change my thinking to help. I've decided that happiness is something that we work for...not a state of mind. But, it is work and I'm lazy. I want to find happiness in my cabinet or drawer and pull it out whenever I need it.

One thing that has me thinking even more is moving. As scary as that sounds, there's a part of me that gets very excited by the prospect of moving to the Mountain West. I love the mountains and always have. But, once again, I'm afraid I'm looking to just open a door to happiness--thinking that moving will solve my problems. I remind myself that it's not a problem solver, but rather a problem trader--one set of problems for another.

Goin' on a mission!

2008-04-29T15:30:00.000-04:00

I was baptized the day before my 19th birthday. From that moment on, I wanted to go on a mission. I talked about it constantly, thought about it all the time, and prayed hard that I would go. When I turned 21, I was still in school at BYU. I was on the slow plan since I was having such a good time. So, I had at least 2 years before I graduated. But, I wanted to go on a mission. I called my mom to discuss the possibility. But, my non-member dad was dead-set against it.

After praying about it, I decided to wait until I graduated to go. I was at BYU home one Sunday morning. My roommates were gone and I was getting ready for church. As I normally did, I was listening to a churchy station while showering. This station would play hymns, church songs, and gave church news throughout the day on Sundays.I'm doing my thing in the shower when the news from the church came on the radio. It was announced that a couple of new missions were open. The first one they announced was the Bulgaria, Sofia mission. I dropped my soap and screamed. At last! The former Communist country of my father's was opened for the Gospel!

I was so excited, laughing, and crying, that I just turned off the water to not waste anymore. All I could do is think about this and how it affected my family there in Bulgaria. I couldn't collect enough thoughts to finish my shower. Suddenly I heard the phone ring. Since no one was home, I rushed from the shower to answer it. It was a friend who had heard the same radio broadcast and called to alert me. I kept saying, "I know! Isn't it wonderful?," while standing there naked and dripping.

I finally felt a cold breeze as the air conditioner began to blow. That made me realize that I was naked and dripping.

Later, I reflected on the news and was impressed that my decision to not go at age 21 was for this very reason. Had I gone when I was 21, Bulgaria was not open as a mission and I would not serve there. Somehow I knew that since I waited, I would have an opportunity to serve my father's native land. I wasn't sure if it meant now, as a young woman or when I was old and retired, but I knew that this was important news for me.

Buggin' out!

2008-04-28T13:30:00.003-04:00

I hate bugs. I don't mind them so much when I'm outside (except for bees). My reasoning is that I'm in their residence. But, if I see one in the house, I get a little freaky. It's one thing that makes me really upset that I'm not married--because it's HIS duty to kill them.

When I first moved into my house, I didn't have any furniture except for my bed. So I sat on my living room floor to do paperwork. One night I'm sitting on the floor doing some stuff when I felt something on my hand. As I looked down to see what it was, I realized that it couldn't be anything other than a bug. It was big and black and after the echos of my screams died down I was able to grab my can of Raid and attack it. Eww, (shudder) just thinking about it makes me want to shriek.

When I was living with roommates, we each had our own room. On one particular night, M. was working late and T. and I had already gone to bed. Suddenly, out of the blue, I heard a scream. Not just one scream but a series of screams. I quickly left my bed and ran to T.'s room. She was screaming and pointing to her bed. She said that there was a cricket in her bed. After inspecting the bed (which was funny since we both were squeamish about it), we discovered that somehow a cricket had gotten into her pillowcase. It was in the corner at the bottom between the pillow and the case. How it got there is still a mystery.

We've discovered the ugly creature--how to get it out? We tried to make a space between the pillow and the case thinking that it would just crawl out--but to no avail. So, we got the great idea of taking the whole thing out to the balcony and then taking out the pillow and shaking the case. Brilliant! Except her pillow was a feather pillow. Which means that in order to get it out of the case, you practically have to grab it from inside the case and tug and pull to release it. No way, no how would either of us do that with a cricket inside. It might touch us!

I don't know how we were able to do it, but we finally got that darn pillow out of the case and shook the case. Instead of the cricket flying over the balcony, it was flipped into the apartment under the couch! Just picture this....2 girls prancing around, shrieking, and holding a pillow by their fingertips. Then after much dancing and crying, screaming that the creepy bug is now in the apartment and between us and our bedrooms. I think we finally just took a deep breath and ran to our rooms.

Don't know what happened to the bug....it may have died from laughter.

The downside of sign language

2008-04-17T17:30:00.001-04:00

You know those jokes that you have with friends that never die? Well, I have several. Like a couple of friends who ALWAYS talk about how I got Euchred twice while going alone. (If that sentence doesn't make sense, then please see this about one of the best card games ever.) Or the friend who teases me about groping him almost every time I see him. Or my godfather always talking about my personal way to warm him up. Here's one that I have to tease my friend about quite often.

My roommate, T., had an off again, on again relationship with her boyfriend. T. would come home and I could usually tell if it was on or off with the boyfriend. Oftentimes, she would come home exclaiming, "I'm OVER him!" Of course, the next day or two she would come home glowing and no longer over him.

It got to the point that eventually, she would just use sign language when they were off. Usually this would be her holding one arm straight out and the other arm would making an arc over straight arm. That meant she was "over" him (get it? the arm going over the other).

One day T. came home and I smiled as I noticed her glow. I asked her about her vent the day before when she was "over" him. Without saying a word, T. held out her arm straight and with the other made an arc under that arm! Now, for those who may be too innocent to understand this particular brand of sign language, if you do that to someone, it is a way to flip them off. I couldn't believe it! My angelic roommate just flipped me off! When T. realized what she had done, she quickly explained that she was no longer over him, but in love again.

Ho! That was funny. By the way, T. is no longer over him since they were married and now have 2 children.

Miracles still happen

2008-04-16T18:15:00.001-04:00

Let me share an experience I had. I had driven to Utah from Indiana and back. This happened on my return home. I returned over Labor Day. I copied this from an email I sent to a friend.

On Saturday night, I had dinner with the missionary who taught me the Gospel when I was 9. He gave the blessing on the food and during his prayer, I remember thinking that he was being so specific regarding his requests. He prayed for his children by name and activity for that night--being specific about what he was asking. He then prayed for me and my trip home--again being very specific. I felt touched that he was so detailed and concerned.

Then I leave Sunday morning. The first day was fine, no problems whatsoever. I stopped late that night to sleep and got about 4.5 - 5 hrs of sleep. I wanted to get up early to get on the road and be home at a decent hour. Once I got to Kansas City KS, the roads got very busy. We were driving the speed limit, but there were a lot of cars on the road. Once I hit IL, about every 5 miles was a police officer pulling people over. Very busy interstate.

When I was about 2.5 - 3 hrs from home, I was listening to my Ipod, had my passenger seat covered with stuff (food, napkins, etc.), and my phone on the passenger seat. The phone rang and I knew it was either Dad or my friend from UT. I reached for it, but couldn't find it. So, I looked at the seat. When I returned my eyes to the road, I saw grass. I had crossed from the right lane into the left lane and was in the median. I overcorrected and went across the 2 lanes again, slammed on my brakes when I hit the shoulder, and spun 360 degrees, landing in the grass on the shoulder.

I sat there just stunned. I wasn't hurt at all--didn't hit anything...just very badly shaking from fear and adreline. Three people stopped and the first guy that got to me tried to open my door. I had enough sense to unlock it. He kept asking me if I was alright and all I could do was nod. I finally found my voice and said that I wasn't hurt at all, just shaken. The other people that stopped asked him if I was alright. Everyone was stunned that I hadn't flipped the car. The guy that stopped and a couple that stopped (man and woman) were mechanics. Both men looked at the car (under the car, under the hood, outside, etc) and said that there wasn't a scratch on it. Nothing was wrong.

The woman was an EMT and was required to call it in. Since there were so many police on the road, there was an immediate response. The police officer asked for my license and proof of insurance. When he was calling in the license plate, I told him that it was a rental. He then wanted to see the rental papers.

*Side note: My brother wanted me to take a pistol with me for protection while on the road. I do not have a license to carry but never took the gun out except when I was staying in the motel at night. That morning, I stuck the gun in my duffel bag knowing that I wouldn't be using it or anything.*

When the police officer wanted to see the rental papers, I remembered that they were in the same place as the gun. I panicked a little, but I unzipped it enough to put my hand in there to get the papers and he never saw it. He checked out everthing which was fine (I've only had 2 speeding tickets and the last one was about 4-5 yrs ago). By this time I was bawling in reaction, so he told me to drive about 2 miles to the next exit to collect myself. I sat in a parking lot for about 20 min as I cried and kept saying thank you. I called my friend to get sympathy as I knew that I could never tell my dad what had happened (he was the one that called). He would completely lose it and get scared, mad, etc.

For the remainder of the time home, I kept praying for continued guidance and safety, to stay awake and alert, be extremely careful and aware, to ask that the car remain in good operating order and appearance, and saying thank you about every other sentence. I was reminded of the prayer given the night before I left and the specificity of it--and I remembered thinking during that prayer that it was a good example of being specific in prayer. Now I know how good to be specific because he asked for something like that I be alert and skilled to handle any situation.

There is no doubt in my mind that heavenly beings were watching out for me. It is truly a miracle that I didn't hit any cars, posts, or anything. All I got was shaking hands, sweaty armpits, and dry mouth. And deep gratitude for Heavenly Father and those people who helped. I truly believe that there is a reason why 2 mechanics were there to help me. As I have gone over the accident in my mind, I am amazed that nothing serious happened. With all the cars on the road, the least one would expect would to cause a pile up as cars slammed on brakes to avoid hitting me. But nothing like that happened--there wasn't even congested traffic from this--it all ended up on the shoulder. For some reason, I and everyone around me were protected. It's apparent that we are still needed here.

Miracles do happen

2008-04-15T18:00:00.001-04:00

I know so many people loved the MTC when they served as missionaries. I was not one of them. I had such a difficult time while in the MTC. I was older than most there--I was 24 when I entered the MTC and I had already graduated from BYU. Plus, I chafed at the rules. I understood to an extent the need for such stringent rules for everything, but I felt that many of them were dumb and didn't apply to me. So I struggled.

On Sunday evenings, we always had a fireside. After the fireside, we had almost 20 min (normally, we had 5 min--20 min was near to being free!) before we had to be in our dorm. My companion and I would walk around the grounds of the MTC before retiring for the night.

On one particular night, I was really feeling the chains of all the rules. While walking, we heard the sounds of a party. In one of the homes behind the MTC grounds, there was a birthday party going on. We stopped for a moment to watch the interactions of family members. As we walked away, I commented that I wish I could sit on a real couch and put my feet on a table in front of me for just 5 minutes. Just 5 minutes.

We continued on our way and I kept this image in my head -- a comfy couch, table, and 5 minutes. We then noticed a door that was ajar in the MTC. It was definitely out of place and we decided to investigate. As we tiptoed over to the door and gently pushed it open, lo! and behold! we saw a couch and a table. Apparently we entered a spare room that a lot of furniture was kept and someone forgot to close the door.

God heard my prayer. We sat on that couch and I put my feet up for 5 minutes. As we quietly closed the door and walked back to the dorms, I was reminded once again that Heavenly Father truly does think of us even in our most selfish moments.

Another similar miracle occurred while I was at the MTC. Once again, I was chafing under all the rules and wished that I could get away from the MTC for just one hour. I told my companion that just one hour from the MTC would help to boost my spirits and give me enough fortitude to last. We were a week away from our P-day, so going to the temple was out of the question. And by this time, the Eastern bloc countries had gotten in trouble and were not allowed to walk the MTC grounds between classes. So, we sat in a classroom from somewhere around 8 am to 8 pm with about four 5 min breaks, but all we could do is go outside the building and stand for 5 min. Needless to say, I was chomping at the bit again as I felt it vastly unfair to restrict the Eastern bloc countries like that and watch all the other missionaries walk by us. I felt like a 2 year old being put in time out.

So, I'm mumbling under my breath, trying my best to not actually murmur and keep faithful, and wished with all the yearning I had to leave this prison for 1 hour. And then, the miracle happened. My companion's glasses broke. She had a strange prescription, so to simply put the lens back in was not feasible--she needed an expert to do that.

In order to leave the MTC, one had to get written permission from your branch president. I remember going with my companion to see our branch president. He interviewed both of us and tried to find other solutions to this dilemma. Finally, he sorrowfully signed our permission slip and said, "Sisters, I truly regret this, but I give you permission to go to the mall for 1 hour. That is all, just one hour--may God watch over you and keep you safe while in the world."

After rolling my eyes and wondering how he thought we would survive once we got in the mission field, we went to the bus to leave for the mall. As we sat on the bus, I realized that miracle #2 had occurred. We were going to be out of the MTC for one hour--the time I asked for.

My companion and I enjoyed that hour away (and what do you know--God saved us from all the sinners in the mall!). We were able to buy some contraband (i.e. candy) for our district and of course go to the Missionary Emporium to torment Elder G.

Practical Joke #1.01

2008-04-09T20:30:00.001-04:00

So, remember this post? There is more to the story. First, Sis. R. didn't really know it was me. I think her companions told her that I had been by. So, although it was obviously me that put the cheese on her pillow, she actually believed me when I told her I was coerced by Elder G.

A couple of weeks later, my companion and I had an opportunity to go to the University Mall in Provo. While there, she and I visited the Missionary Emporium. This was a store exclusively made for missionaries. One of the things it had was a "Dear John" wall -- hilarious! -- and a "Please write me" wall. On this particular wall, missionaries would post a note asking for letters and would add their address. Usually, it was an Elder asking for girls to write him. Since my companion and I were there, we decided to help out a fellow missionary. We wrote a sappy note from Elder G. (the same Elder that "coerced" me to putting the cheese on Sister R.'s bed).

Getting back to the MTC, we told everyone what we had done. We laughed about it and Elder G. thought we were lying. I assured him we were not and if he got a letter, to not be surprised. In the meantime, Sister R. wrote a letter and had a cousin mail it from southern UT. Elder G. received this letter and then realized that I was not lying....his name and address really was up on the wall in the mall.

Of course, he didn't know that the letter was written by Sister R. But what was funny was that he soon received another letter--and none of us wrote it. He actually had received a letter from someone who had read the sappy note and took pity on him.

Dreamin'

2008-04-08T22:05:00.002-04:00

I dream a lot. Usually every night and I remember many of my dreams. I'd like to share two of my favorites.

I dreamed once that a man in a gorilla suit "kidnapped" me. I say kidnapped, but he and I had it planned. I'm not sure why he had to conceal his identity, but in order for us to be together, he could not let anyone know who he was. As he grabbed me to leave, we were surrounded by police cars with lights flashing. At one point, this man in a gorilla suit looked at me with the bluest of eyes. We seemed to speak without words because I knew what he needed to make a clean escape. I was able to steal one of the police cars and urged him to get in so we could make our getaway.

In real life, I've seen men with the same blue eyes, but alas, they were not wearing a gorilla suit.

I also dreamed that I was a man. Tall, dark, and so darn hot looking in my black leather jacket that I had a crush on myself. I was a detective and lived near my mother. As I was coming home one night late, I saw that my house had intruders. I quickly ducked behind a bush and planned my strategy. My mother had seen me and opened her door to welcome me home. I knew that she would blow my cover and put herself in danger, so I quickly dispatched my highly trained German Shepherd. While he distracted the intruders, I sent my secret weapon--my highly trained and vicious black cat. I knew that my attack cat would take no prisoners. My mom, unknowing of danger, beckoned to my animals. However, they would not be deterred from their mission. They quickly dispatched the invaders and I was able to greet my mother without her knowing any danger was near.

I will say that my dreams are often very amusing and I look forward to my nightly entertainment as I close my eyes.

I say the dumbest things

2008-04-02T11:45:00.001-04:00

Kids don't have the market on saying dumb things. I work in long term disability. When I first began working, whenever I was introducing myself to a client, I would always say, "Hi, I work with your long distance carrier. I mean, your long term disability carrier."

Another example. I was talking to a friend once and we were discussing elderly people. I was trying to make a point, so I exclaimed, "Do you know how many dead people die?" Ahem.

I come by it naturally. My dad has difficulty with the English language on occasion. Imagine this scene. My dad calls me at work one day to let me know that they have lost an important card for my mom. She had gotten a pacemaker and had to have a medical card with her at all times. So he wanted me to call the company and ask for another. When I asked him for the phone number, he replied, "It's 1-800-CATARACT." Huh? He said that's exactly what it said, "1-800-CATARACT." I asked him to spell it for me. "1-8-0-0-C-A-R-D-I-A-C." Ohhh, funny.

But, my all time favorite happened several years ago. When one of my nephews was younger, he followed my dad everywhere. On this particular occasion, he and dad were in the backyard messing in the garden. Ryan came in the house muttering the same phrase over and over, "Get down down there. Get down down there." My sister-in-law asked him what he was saying. He said he's just repeating what Papaw says whenever Ryan gets in the garden. My SIL very seriously asked, "Ryan, do you know why Papaw talks like he does?" And Ryan, just as seriously, replied, "Yes, it's because he's Chinese." Hahahaha! Since that time, whenever dad says something that we can't understand, we'll ask him to stop speaking Chinese and speak English.

My Kentucky roots

2008-03-18T15:00:00.001-04:00

My mom's mother was from Kentucky. She could cook good home cooking that we all love. One thing she could make that I loved was biscuits and gravy. Mmmmm, good.

My grandma lived with us for several years before she passed away. About a year or so before she passed away (I was about 13 at this time), she got so sick that she became bedridden. She slowly lost her appetite throughout this year.

One time when she and I were home alone, I got a taste for some biscuits and gravy. I knew how to open a can of biscuits and cook those, but I had no idea how to make sausage gravy. I asked my grandma how to make it and she gave me instructions. Then she said that she wanted some when it was ready. I told her that maybe she should wait until I see how it turns out since it was my first attempt. She insisted that I make her a plate when it was ready.

I tried my best and used her instructions, but despite good intentions it did not turn out well. At all. But, my grandma still insisted on a serving. She loved it and praised it as the best tasting gravy she's had. As I scraped the rest of the gravy into the trash, I thought to myself that my poor grandma was really sick--she couldn't tell the difference between gravy and glue.

Now fast forward a few years. My friend, Monica, and I went to West Virginia to see her friend get baptized. We stayed in some cabins that Monica's friends rented for a family vacation. One morning, we decided to go out for breakfast. We went to the nearest town and went to the small cafe for breakfast. There were about 5 of us and we sat at the counter. Monica sat with her friend at one end of the counter while I sat with others at the other end.

Since the only breakfast food worth eating is biscuits and gravy, that's what I ordered. Monica and friend ordered the same. Our order came as most restaurants serve it--2 biscuits on a plate with a bowl of gravy with it. I begin to eat and as any biscuits and gravy aficionado knows, you break your biscuits into bite sized pieces, place them in the bowl, and eat everything with a spoon. Monica and her friend began to eat theirs as most non-biscuits and gravy eating people eat it--slice the biscuits, place on the plate, spoon gravy over them, and eat the whole with a fork and knife. So proper and precise.

Unbeknownst to me, Monica and friend were snickering at how I chose to eat my breakfast. They were making fun of me tearing my biscuits and eating it all with a spoon. Suddenly, next to Monica, an older man asked her in a thick country accent, "Ya ain't frum around here, ar ya?" Monica politely answered, "No." He continued, "I kin tell. Ya don eat ya biskits n gravee raht." Monica asked, "How are you supposed to eat them?" Then my hero explains the proper way to eat this breakfast, "Ya tear up yer biskit into yer bowl and eat it all wit a spoon. That's the only way to eat it."

I may not have learned how to make this breakfast dish at 13 years old, but I knew EXACTLY how to eat it! Take that, city-girl!

My Crush

2008-03-12T22:00:00.001-04:00

Just in case you didn't know, I have a crush. Yep...me, a 30 something woman has a crush. Orlando Bloom makes me feel like a 13 year old. I feel giddy when I watch him in Lord of the Rings. I get breathless when watching Pirates of the Caribbean. He's younger than I, but he's within my 10 year rule...barely.

So, here's a picture of my cubicle (can it be called a cubicle if there are only 3 walls??) at work. Notice the Orlando pictures? No? Let me point them out. One large poster, two pictures on my metal cabinet, one calendar, and large face picture. Yeah, I'm a boy crazy teenager.

Because of my obsession, one of the guys at work would always tease and joke with me. Each month when I would get a new Orlando picture on my calendar, he would post something funny on it. Usually something about how young Orlando is. If you notice on one of my metal cabinets, you see some other things besides Orlando's face. Thanks to Scott, Orlando has been defaced.

But one of the best practical jokes ever played on me was done by this co-worker. Around Christmas one year, he began asking me if I had received anything "special." He kept asking periodically and wouldn't answer any questions when posed. Finally, in mid-February, I got a "special" delivery at my desk. Scott had signed me up for a year's subscription to Tiger Beat magazine. And guess who was in it??? Yep, that large facial picture was the first issue I got. Hilarious! Each month, I got to be 13 again. Of course, I wasn't really 13 because unless Orlando was in it, I had no idea who these kids in this magazine were. I would take the issues to church and give them to my 12-13 year old Sunday School class girls. They knew these teen idols and loved the magazine. Sadly, when the subscription ran out, so did my pictures of Orlando.

I recently had a meeting for my church calling. While there, one of the counselors handed me a folder--with Orlando all over it! She said she and her daughter were out and saw that and just had to get it for me. This same daughter gave me a framed picture of Orlando a few years ago...I still have it....next to my autographed picture a friend got me for Christmas one year. I'm so pathetic............

What time is it???

2008-03-11T16:30:00.000-04:00

Living in Indiana, I've never had to change my clock for Daylight Saving Time. Just not something I've had to worry about. Now I had to keep track of it since I had to know if the temple was on the same time as us or an hour ahead. But otherwise, I could care less about DST.

Until my mission. Bulgaria changes their clocks for DST. So, one morning as I was in the shower, my companion got the phone call from our District Leader to change our clocks. After my normal 30 minute shower, I emerged to an enraged companion. Apparently I had taken 90 minutes to shower and not 30 minutes! She ran to take her shower as I pondered what had happened. Did I fall asleep and not realize it? Did I do more than a normal load of laundry while in the shower (I had to hand wash all my clothes since we didn't have a washer/dryer)? I was very confused and troubled. I could not account for an hour of my day. What was I to do? Did I need to see a doctor or something?

I then got a phone call from some sister missionaries to remind us to change the clocks. As I glanced at my watch, I noted the time I should change it to. This sister gently reminded me that no, it's only 1 hour difference. So I looked at the clock on the bedside table and repeated what time I thought it should be. Again, this sister reminded me it's only ONE HOUR difference. When I then checked the clock in the kitchen, I was thoroughly confused. Not only did I lose an hour in the shower, now all the clocks weren't showing the right time.

When my companion got out of the shower, I told her of my confusion and troubles. As she began to snicker and then to just laugh uproariously, I realized that I had been had. I didn't know how I had been had, but I had. She then told me what had happened. She had changed that clocks in every room and decided not to tell me. For the rest of the day, I was off about an hour. My brain could not grasp the concept that the time had changed.

After my mission, I was home one morning when suddenly I awoke at 6 am. I was disoriented and knew that DST had started. So, as I looked intently at my clock, I tried to figure out what time it was. I called a good friend and as she sleepily said hello, I asked her what time it was. When she informed me it was 6 o'clock IN THE MORNING, I then asked, "No, I mean what time is it really?" She then snarled that it was 6 AM--Indiana doesn't change our clocks! I then sheepishly wished her a good morning and quietly hung up.

Now, Indiana has decided to join the rest of the world and change its clocks. This past weekend I knew that DST would start. While I was in the shower on Sunday morning getting ready for church, I realized that I had forgotten to change the clocks. So instead of it being 8:40, it was 9:40--almost time for Sunday School. I had missed the first hour of church.

I think I need to move to Arizona.

I gotta go!

2008-02-15T15:00:00.001-05:00

My dad is from Bulgaria. About 4 blocks from my parent's home is a traditional Bulgarian church--Bulgarian Orthodox (it's similar to Greek Orthodox and a little like Catholic). Tradition in this church is that a baby is baptized by his godfather.

My godfather was 14 years old when I was baptized. Each time (and I do mean every single time) I see him, he reminds me of a baptism that I was too young to remember.

When babies are baptized, the godfather holds the naked baby over a large, ornate bowl and the priest then scoops a handful of water to dribble over the baby's head. My story begins here. Apparently, I screamed while getting baptized. Nuno (that means godfather) was holding me and trying to calm me. But I didn't want any of that. In fact, I wanted to let him know what I was crying about. So I shared with him. He said that he realized something wasn't right when he felt something warm and wet down his front. My Nuna (godmother), his mother, relishes in telling how he kept whispering, "Mom! Mom! I think she peed!" Nuno tells me that I didn't just tinkle a little, I left a large puddle at his feet. I'm telling you, don't mess with a woman when she has to go!

Share and share alike

2008-02-14T09:30:00.001-05:00

What is it about families that can just royally embarrass you?

When I got my mission call, I was sent a letter with a list of items necessary for the mission. Included in this letter was a recommendation to bring 4 handkerchiefs. I'm still not sure why we were told to bring handkerchiefs. I used mine to dust. Like a dutiful missionary, one of my companions brought handkerchiefs with her.

While on my mission, I was able to visit with family. One of my family members was a very wealthy man who loved to drink and give away money. He would occasionally travel to the city where I served and take my companion and I out to dinner--at a bar. Not many missionaries can say they went to bars on their mission. When Ivan got drunk, he was very happy and very generous. On more than one occasion, he would give either myself or my companion a large bill. But, he didn't hand it to us. Nope, he would spit on it and slap it on our foreheads. We would have to wear it there until he either lost interest or it fell. We always prayed that he would lose interest.

When my dad came to visit, my companion and I traveled by train to spend a weekend with him and all my cousins. While there, my dad used his handkerchief for reasons one would need a handkerchief--to wipe your sweaty forehead (or saliva filled one) or to blow your nose. While packing to leave, dad brought out his handchief to wipe his nose when he noticed it wasn't his. I'm sure the little dainty flowers on it gave it away. After blowing his nose, he gave it to me to give to my companion since "it was hers and got mixed up with mine." Yeah, thanks dad.

When I told my companion about it (after assuring her I would wash the handkerchief well before giving it to her), she laughed and said, "Your cousin puts his spit on my head and your dad blows his nose with my handkerchief. What's a little bodily fluids among friends?"

I scream, you scream

2008-02-13T13:30:00.001-05:00

Does anyone know that I don't like wearing clothes? Well, some clothes are ok. But, I'm just more comfortable in little to nothing. Here's a story which should inspire me to wear more....

When I was in college, I lived in an apartment with 3 other girls. This apartment had a huge window that was in our kitchen. Off the kitchen was a vanity area with 2 sinks. The bathroom, which only had a toilet and bathtub, was off the vanity. Then the 2 bedrooms was off the vanity. From the kitchen to the vanity was a door.

One day I was home alone. I had just taken a shower and had closed the door to the kitchen. I went into my bedroom to do some stuff and decided to go into the vanity area to get ready. I was near the door to the kitchen when suddenly it opened! I'm standing there in my underwear (thankfully) when my roommate opened the door. I didn't know she was home--she didn't know I was home. So we do what any rational college age girl does--we scream. I'm screaming while in my underwear about 6 inches from where she is standing screaming fully clothed. Then we begin laughing. Until we hear her boyfriend come running to see what's wrong. I quickly ran to my bedroom as she quickly exited to calm him down.

That's an image that is still funny to me. I'm chuckling just thinking about it.

Giant Bee

2008-02-12T14:53:00.000-05:00

One summer when I was really young (4 or so?), I got stung several times. I remember specifically, a huge black ant bit my little toe. Dad cut the thing in half to get it to let go. I was playing in the yard and stepped on a bee. I was playing in the water and got stung by a bee. As a result, I am terrified of bees.

Towards the end of that summer, I was playing on our porch. Next to our porch was a flower bed with lots of colorful flowers. Suddenly, I heard that buzzing sound and when I looked up, I saw the biggest bee I'd ever encountered. I ran, screaming, "Mommy! A giant bee!" Mom came running out of the house, but didn't see anything. She told me that it was just a bee and it's gone now.

So, I began playing again. Then that noise came back. I saw the giant bee again! As I screamed, Mom again came running. This time she saw the giant bee! But instead of screaming in terror, or battling it for her baby, she began laughing. Uncontrollably. I'm crying and trying hide behind her and my mother is laughing! She then explained that I wasn't looking at a bee at all. It was something called a hummingbird.

Practical Joke #4

2008-02-04T18:10:00.000-05:00

I was trying to remember when I first started practical jokes. Still don't know, but I remember one of my earlier ones.

In high school, we had a math teacher who was....a drunk. Literally. He shared stories of how his wife would get tired of him and make him sleep on the couch with his dog. He talked about his DUI arrest and that he had a probation officer to check with. He also didn't really pay attention in our class. He would stand at the chalkboard with his back to us and not really hear us whispering, giggling, and doing all the other things you do when teacher isn't looking.

I have to tell you about one of my classmates. He could draw really well. He drew a larger picture of Mr. B and made his mouth a moving part. Whenever Mr. B. was lecturing and not looking at him, J. would hold up the 5 inch replica of Mr. B. and move his mouth in tune to the actual lecture. Hilarious! I still giggle thinking about that. Or the flying bird. Again, J. made a bird (very similar to oragami) and rigged it up to a string hanging from the projection screen. The string then traveled from the projection screen across the ceiling to his seat next to the wall. He would then pull the string and make the bird "fly." Oh my word, many laughs in that class.

Or how about the day we decided to drop our books exactly at 10:55 am? Each of the 30 students in that class watched the clock and exactly at 10:55 am, we dropped out books on the floor. Or the day we had someone sharpening their pencil throughout the class period. When one student sat down, another would get up. We also had a day where we turned our seats around. When Mr. B. walked into the classroom, we were all facing the opposite direction.

Needless to say, we, high school students, had a grand time in his class. For anyone familiar with the TV show "Welcome Back, Kotter"--it was lived in my high school circa 1986.

Anyway, back to my original thought. Before there were personal computers with all the nifty stuff you can do, I had an electric typewriter. It had some grand features including various fonts and sizes. One day, my best friend and I decided to send a letter to Mr. B. This letter was to announce his winning a contest. I don't remember all the details but here's basically what we said. He had won first prize which was a one way ticket to Libya (some kind of conflict happened between US and Libya around that time) and lost the prizes of a new Spring wardrobe (he wore the same 2 suits all the time) and a new couch. He was to pick up his prize at his probation officer's appointment. He also had to know the password to pick up his prize. Password was "Le Petite Garcon"--which was the name of his dog.

The letter was mailed to his home address. Upon receiving it, he brought it to school to show the other teachers. We never found out if he laughed, rolled his eyes, or swore after reading it. I remember one of my teachers telling me about it. None of the teachers could figure out who did it, but they knew whoever it was had a computer. There were only a handful of people at that time that had computers so speculation on these people ran rampant. I was not one of them.

Practical Joke #3

2008-01-20T18:12:00.000-05:00

I have some friends who have asked me to watch their house while they were on vacation. One such time, the husband called to ask how things were going (they were worried their dog would give me problems). As we chatted, he said that he hoped I hadn't arranged his videos into some kind of chaos.

After I hung up, I decided that he had given me a great idea to show my appreciation to them. They have many CD's and I thought to help them find some variety in their life. This was before the days of MP3 players, so they actually listened to the CD's. I began to swap out their CD's and the covers. And not a straight swap. I would place an Aerosmith CD in the cover for Transiberian Orchestra. That CD would then be placed into the Grateful Dead CD cover. I thoroughly mixed them all up.

Of course they didn't discover the excitement until they went to listen to some Pink Floyd. After putting in the CD and listening to Christmas Jazz for all of 10 seconds, they quickly realized what had happened. I received a phone call with lots of yelling and threats. I loved it!

This happened almost 10 years ago. Just a few months ago, K. told me that she had grabbed her Van Halen CD, one she hadn't listened to in a long time, to load it into her Ipod. To her surprise, she was listening to some classical music that she thought she had given away. Oops. Gotta love those gifts that keep on giving.

Rebirth

2008-01-16T17:47:00.000-05:00

Last month I had 2 birthdays to celebrate. Not only my mortal birthday on the 28th (gifts and cash are still welcome), but also my spiritual birth. Twenty years ago on December 27th, I was baptized. I had wanted to get baptized on my birthday, but that year the 28th fell on a Monday--which is sacred second to Sundays. So, I had to get baptized on a Sunday after church.

I had taken the missionary discussions while at BYU. I was a golden for those sisters. I referred myself and when they first came to my door, I asked them what I needed to do to get baptized. The discussions felt like a formality. I had a testimony, lived the Word of Wisdom (except for tea and coffee--didn't know they were a no-no), was a moral, chaste girl and just waiting for the water to make it official. The missionaries wanted me to get baptized while at BYU, but I wanted to wait for the Christmas break to get baptized at home so my mom could be there.

I asked our home teacher (obviously the home teacher at my home, not BYU) to baptize me. He had a cold at the time as did I. I remember that I got in the cold water (do they do that on purpose???) and when Charles dunked me the first time, I came out of the water and snorted--loudly. Not a lady-like snort, but more like a got-a-bunch-of-phlegm type of snort. So embarrassing. Of course, the hem of my baptismal gown was out of the water, so Charles had to shove me under again. This time I was completely immersed and no embarrassing noises.

Sadly, I don't remember anything of the confirmation other than the command to receive the Holy Ghost. I do remember my feelings. It felt so right as if there were someone there with their hands on my head (other than the obvious ones) giving me encouragement. I felt an actual warmth much like you feel on a sunny day. Honestly, at the time I didn't think it more than just feelings of happiness. It wasn't until years later after I had experience with the Holy Ghost that I recognized what that was.

People have asked me what it was like to live "without" the Holy Ghost. And I've replied that I don't know. I've had a testimony for so long that I have felt His influence in my life. I can say that the physical commitment of baptism has allowed me to focus and re-commit to living the Gospel during those times when I felt spiritually weak. I truly don't know where my life would be now had I not been baptized. I think I would still believe in God and still live a righteous life. But, I believe that I have a happier life, that I have a deeper understanding, that I have better tools to deal with trials and disappointments, that I have a more solid foundation to build upon. I don't think that I have more than others, in or out of my faith, but that I have a fuller life because of my decision to be baptized.

Don't mess with me

2008-01-12T13:21:00.000-05:00

A few years ago I was living with a roommate in her house. The house we lived in had an attached garage with a door that led from the house to the garage and another door from the garage to the back yard.

One morning while she was in Utah, I was awoken around 4 am by a noise in the house. I could tell that someone was in the house and doing a search. I was furious! No fear, just pure rage was flowing through me. Not because our things might be taken, but because I was woken up and knew I would have to deal with this burglar and the police and wouldn't be able to get back to sleep before I had to go to work.

Angrily I snarled, "Who's there?!" The very timid, humble voice of my roommate's boyfriend said, "It's me, J. I'm looking for T's flight info." Once I realized I knew who it was, I simply calmed down and went right back to sleep.

Ugh!

2008-01-11T17:04:00.001-05:00

It's been so long since I've had anything interesting to say. I've been busy with the holidays, simply too lazy to write and a little on the blah side. Holidays are always a little difficult and this year was especially hard without my momma. But, the holidays are officially over...I returned the last of the presents today, I think. I'm sure I'll find something at home later than I need to return.

So, on to my normal jabbering. I'll have a post tomorrow about something funny, informative, or just plain interesting.

Embarrassing moment #4

2007-11-29T17:40:00.000-05:00

This is definitely a woman thing. While on my mission, I lost quite a bit of weight. As a result, my undergarments fit quite loosely. For various reasons, I was unable to get new, fitted underwear. So, I walked around in loose undies.

Once while my companion and I were out walking quite a bit, I noticed that my undies were especially loose. I was finishing up on being a woman (Aunt Flo, ragtime, whatever you call it) and had on a feminine napkin (don't you just love that nice word?). I was constantly pulling up my undies whenever I could (very discreetly of course). I was very irritated at the situation as well as the feeling of my undies hanging on me.

Eventually, we had to go home for the evening. When I went into the bathroom to do my thing, to my surprise, no longer did I have a feminine pad in my underwear! Somewhere in our travels, I lost it. Ewww!

Practical Joke #2

2007-11-28T17:31:00.000-05:00

I used to work with the Youth at church. We had a huge Stake Youth Conference one year in which I helped with the housing committee. We stayed at a local college and used their facilities: cafeteria, dorms, classrooms, etc. A friend of mine who chaired the housing committee had a master key to all the dorm rooms.

The night of the dance, I was chaperoning outside where all the dark corners were (it's just fun to sneak up on a couple of teens in the dark!) when I saw my friend. Suddenly I had the wonderful idea of how to show the girls in my ward that we loved them. Of course D. was up for an outward showing of our affection.

Using her master key, we went into the dorm rooms of our ward. We were able to take all the mattresses and pile them up in the middle of the main hallway. When we removed the mattresses, we replaced the clothes, blankets, pillows, etc. exactly as they were on the bed. It was hilarious just thinking about their reactions.

That night, the girls confronted us. D. confessed almost immediately. I, on the other hand, was able to divert their attention and make them think I had nothing to do with it. In fact, I was so successful that while we were sharing our experience with the other adults, D. was exasperated with me for it. Unthinkingly, I blurted in front of the bishop that I am a GREAT liar. Then I sheepishly looked at Bishop and said, "Except when I'm talking to you, Bishop!"

Practical Joke #1

2007-11-27T19:52:00.001-05:00

As many embarrassing moments I have, I have practical jokes I've done. One was while I was in the MTC.

One of the sisters in my district hated Parmesan cheese. Hated it! Whenever we had pasta for dinner, she would sit by herself to avoid the view and smell of the cheese.

Once, my companion got sick while we were in class. Our teacher excused us to leave early for our dorm room. As we passed by the cafeteria, behold! a light shone on a lone container of Parmesan cheese on a table. Seriously, I expected to hear angels singing. The cafeteria was closed for the night, but a door was ajar with this single light shining on an empty table--except for the fated Parmesan cheese.

Of course I had to take advantage of that moment. So my companion and I entered the cafeteria, placed some cheese in a piece of paper, folded it and went to our room. Once my district was dismissed for the evening, I was able to go into Sister R's room, lovingly spread the cheese all over her pillow, and joyfully make my way back to my room.

Suddenly, I heard lots of cursing with my name interspersed (in her defense, she says she doesn't remember using curse words and that she doesn't use them--whatever, I heard cursing). I hurriedly ran to her room to shush her (we are in the MTC--a most hallowed place). She cursed me for doing something so evil to her. Now, I am not about to take all the credit for this act of kindness. I was able to convince Sister R that I was bribed by Elder G to do this. She then turned her wrath from me to Elder G. I had become an innocent pawn in the evil plot of Elder G.

But, that my friends, is another story...

Embarrassing moment #3

2007-11-26T19:05:00.000-05:00

I have family in Bulgaria. While there on my mission, two of my cousins wanted to come visit us in America. Since airline tickets were cheaper to buy in America than in Bulgaria, my cousin gave me $2000 in cash to take home with me to buy the tickets. Dad, being the paranoid father that he is, insisted that I not keep this money in a purse, pocket, or any other normal holding place. He insisted that I keep the money on my person. So, being the woman I am, I thought of one place to hold the envelope full of $20's--in my bra.

Coming home from the mission was a long trip. We flew to Vienna Austria, spent the night there, then flew to Copenhagen Denmark. We had about a 45 minute layover and then on to Chicago. While in Copenhagen, my flying companions, 2 Elders, and I got out to walk the airport. We needed to stretch our legs before the long flight to America.

Once on the flight, I remained in my seat for almost the whole duration. Before landing in Chicago, though, I decided that I should visit the restroom. It was dark in the cabin as they were showing a movie. I carefully made my way to the back of the plane to stand in the short line for the lavatory. As I'm standing there I realize that I don't feel the envelope of money. I discreetly check to see if I can locate the envelope--perhaps it shifted from the middle of my bra to the cup. As I covertly check, I don't feel anything. Nothing anyway in my bra. It has to be somewhere. I then began to panic--I lost $2000 in American cash! I begin to frantically search my entire body for the money. I'm feeling all around my chest, stomach, back, thighs...you get the picture.

I have no idea what the people nearby were thinking. I can only imagine their thoughts and looks as they shielded their children's eyes from this insane woman groping herself. When I was able to go into the lavatory, I was even more groping--to no avail. It wasn't there.

I couldn't kneel in the lavatory, so I stood and said a quick prayer. I was prompted to remove my shirt. When I did, I turned to look in the mirror and there on my shoulder blade was the envelope full of cash. It was stuck to my skin. Nothing held it in place. I quickly counted the money--all there--replaced my shirt and said a prayer of thanks. I kept repeating thank you's as I made my way back to my seat. Paranoid father or not, that envelope went into my purse which kept it safe until I was able to hand it to Dad with a terse, "Here, take this now!"

Count your blessings

2007-11-25T17:34:00.000-05:00

Today at church, the youth speaker mentioned one of my stories that he remembered from a Sunday School lesson I gave. I thought I'd share it with you.

My dad and I went back to Bulgaria a few years ago. Not many people there have cars since they are expensive to buy and keep up (gas, maintenance, etc.). We spent most of the time in the small town of his birth visiting with his brother and family (tons of cousins). The last week there, we were going to travel about 3-4 hours north to spend the final week with his niece. My cousin arranged for us to hire a friend of hers to drive us to Ivanka's house. There were 5 of us in the car: the driver, my dad, my cousin, her 10 year old son, and myself.

We had been traveling less than an hour when Itso (my 10 year old cousin) starting getting car sick. We had to pull over so he could get sick and almost as soon as he got back in, the car began to make horrendous noises. I don't know what was wrong with it, but we literally couldn't go faster than 15 mph.

My cousin is sick, the car is driving so slowly, my dad is getting worried, I'm hot....just not a good experience. The longer we drove at that annoyingly slow pace, the more irritated I got. I kept focusing on all the bad going on at that point--the smell of sickness, the heat without air conditioning, the loud car noise, the slow speed, etc. I was getting in a royal tizz.

Finally a thought came to me. I should count my blessings. I remembered all the stories we've heard about how if you count your blessings, you'll be able to see the good in your life. Blah, blah, blah. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided to try it. I started with the obvious. I'm not the one who is sick. At least we have a car (even if it is slow). I'm grateful to be in this country with my dad. I am grateful for the Gospel. And on I recited.

Soon I began to run out of the obvious. I had to start thinking--grateful for education, job, my own car, never starving, etc. I then had to get creative. I'm grateful I didn't have to pick the weeds on the side of the road. I'm grateful that English is an easier language to speak (at least for this native speaker). I'm grateful I used the restroom before we left and I don't have any drinking water with me. I got so creative that I began cracking myself up. At one point my Dad asked me what was so funny. No way would he understand that my gratitude for strong thighs to hold me up while using the primitive bathrooms in Bulgaria was such to make me laugh. "Just thinking, Dad!" I replied instead.

Although the negative issues hadn't disappeared (the car still made lots of noise, Itso actually hurled in the back seat, the temperature rose to over 100 degrees), my attitude had changed. I was actually able to see the humor in this situation and realized that it wasn't that bad. We were able to get to our destination on time, Itso recovered, and I just sweat more to cool off. The miracle came in my perspective and outlook. It was a lesson that I learned and have been able to apply since that time.

Embarrassing moment #2

2007-11-24T19:20:00.000-05:00

I'm funny...at least in my mind I am. I enjoy joking, laughing, and acting goofy now and then. Let me tell you about one of my goofy, embarrassing moments.

I have a friend who is very funny. He is always joking and teasing. Once we were at a party and there were some of us sitting on the couch and chatting. J. sat behind me and suggested that he become my "hands." You know that game, you put your hands behind you and the person puts their arms through your arms and pretends to be your arms/hands. So I place my arms behind me while J. puts his arms around me. As I place my hands comfortably behind me, J. says, "Ummm, you might want to move your hands. I thought that they were fine where they are, but thinking that he meant that he didn't have a good angle to maneuver, I shifted my hands slightly. Then J. says, "Seriously, THAT is not a handlebar." Oops! NOW, I understand...I have to MOVE my hands.

Whenever I see J. now, he teases me about groping him. I just smile and tell him that he enjoyed our tryst.

Donny knows me!!!

2007-11-23T22:08:00.000-05:00

In case I've never mentioned it, I love Donny Osmond. I haven't always, but seeing him in "Joseph" changed my life forever. Afterwards, I discovered while driving that Donny and I harmonize so well together on "Any Dream Will Do." And so began one of my life goals...singing harmony with Donny while in my car.

My best friend's brother lives in LA. He and his girlfriend are frequently acting in commercials, hosting TV shows, or other Hollywood type of things. It's always fun to hear their stories of their celebrity friends.

Tonight I attended my best friend's family's Christmas program. Each year they put on a show with singing and skits. Her brother, D., is the highlight as his funny characters are so entertaining. As we chatted I found out that D. and his girlfriend had attended "Dancing with the Stars" as audience members. In between takes for this show, they had the opportunity to meet Donny. D. and Donny chatted and D. told him how much I really like Donny. Unfortunately, there were no pens around to get an autograph.

But, now Donny knows me! Sort of. In a very brief way. Through an acquaintance. But he knows me! He said hello to me! I'm one step closer to completing a life goal! I'd better start practicing the harmony in "Any Dream Will Do" since I'm sure Donny will be waiting for me in my car very soon.

Happy Eat-Too-Much-Then-Take-A-Nap Day!

2007-11-22T00:53:00.001-05:00

Oh, wait...most people call this Thanksgiving Day. And it is. I'm thankful that I have so much food to eat. I'm grateful that I have family members who can cook really, really well. I'm grateful that I'm not a picky eater. I'm grateful for Chinette large size plates. I'm grateful for chocolate. I'm grateful for whipped cream. I'm grateful for Diet Pepsi. I'm grateful for comfortable couches. I'm grateful for ball games to lull me to sleep. I'm grateful for getting my second wind to eat again.

Yep, definitely Thanksgiving Day.

Holiday blues

2007-11-21T20:00:00.000-05:00

Blue is my favorite color...especially the deep, dark midnight blue. But I don't like to feel that way. Today marks 6 months to the day that my mom passed away.

I really miss her. I think about her each day and I truly think I will continue to do so. Sometimes the memories get too much and I have to shut them down for sanity's sake.

As I think on my memories of mom and how much that sometimes hurt, I'm reminded of our Heavenly Home. I've always thought we had the veil drawn over our memories to help us live by faith. Now, I think there are other reasons as well. Grief can be incapacitating--how much we would have grieved over our prior home could have prevent us from doing our duty. Living in memory would be a impediment to our growth as well. If we were to dwell on what was in our pre-mortal existence, then we could not see the good and growth available in the present.

I think it will be an interesting day when we will remember things we have forgotten. Do you think I'll be able to find my favorite book and gold watch then?

Embarrassing moments #1

2007-11-20T19:44:00.000-05:00

I have quite a few embarrassing moments, but since I love to laugh I'm usually open to sharing them. I can only think of two moments that I don't share routinely (they are embarrassing for a reason), but the rest are open for laughter.

When leaving my mission, there were 14 of us. As we boarded the plane in Sofia, we were spread over several rows. One of the elders had a guitar that wouldn't fit in the overhead cabinet. I offered to keep it in the open seat next to me. Once we landed in Vienna, we had to debark from the back of the plane right onto the tarmac. They rolled metal stairs for us to use to debark. Since we were separated, I told the elder that I would grab the guitar and give it to him at the end of the stairs.

These stairs were so narrow that only one person could fit. I had my carry-on and his guitar case and due to the narrowness, had to put both arms in front and maneuver them to accommodate their bulky load and the stairs. As I descended, the wind blew...strongly. A gust threw the back of my skirt over my head and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I could feel the edge of the skirt hitting my forehead as my eyes widened and looked into the elder's widened eyes. All I could think of was my white underwear, knee-hi stockings and pasty legs flashing the person behind me. I was so embarrassed that I didn't even look to see if a man or woman saw my modesty flapping in the wind.

When I arrived at the bottom of the stairway, I shoved the guitar into the arms of the elder as I snapped, "That guitar cost me my virtue, Elder!" I think he was just as embarrassed as I....ok, no way was there equality in our humiliation. I was the one showing my assets to all...he was just waiting for his guitar.

Active Culture

2007-11-19T20:32:00.000-05:00

I love the theater--plays, musicals, movies. I don't care what kind of theater production because I love them all. I suppose as an English major it comes natural. But lately, I've gotten in a lot of theater (after months...ok, years of deprivation). Let me tell you about one of them.

Recently I went to Wicked in Chicago. For those who have never been to a Broadway production, GO! You must go to one immediately. Call me and I'll go with you. Let me tell you why you should make every effort to attend. The set designs are wonderful. In Wicked, they had the set in such a way that the sparsity of images disappeared. I really felt as if I were in a classroom, or bedroom, or the land of Oz. The costumes were very vivid and imaginative. I loved how the costumes were very rich and reminiscent of the movie. The talent of the actors was spectacular. I was blown away by the voice of Elphaba and the physical acting of Glinda. Put everything together and you come away with a sense of awe and amazement. Two specific moments seem to encapsulate my feelings: the end of Act I and the flying monkeys.

At the end of Act I, we have the climax of Elphaba's transformation into the Wicked Witch of the West. She is dressed in her black hat, black dress, and black cape. As she rises in her powers of wickedness, she is raised above the stage. Her black cape elongates and flaps in the wind as she belts out a vocal performance that astounds everyone. A very visual and auditory execution of her rise in power.

I have always been afraid of the flying monkeys. I remember as a kid when the Wizard of Oz came on each year, I would cringe and hide my face when those creatures came on the screen. They scared the pee out of me! I had mixed feelings while anticipating these monsters in Wicked. After all, they couldn't be exactly as they were on the screen. Therefore, they wouldn't be as scary, right? Since the set designs, costumes, and actor talents are so tremendous, they made up for any limitations of the stage. The producers must have recruited talented acrobats from Cirque du Soleil because those guys climbed, hung, and leaped with such talent that it looked like they were flying. They were so scary that I still wanted to cringe and hide, but curling into a fetal position with so many others around me would cause some concerns (and security calls, I'm sure).

That, my friend, is why you should immediately purchase tickets to a Broadway production. An incredible experience. So, give me a call and we'll arrange a date.

What's in a name?

2007-11-18T10:49:00.000-05:00

My dad is from Bulgaria. I can't remember a time that I haven't been affected by that. I remember as a child wanting to know all about Bulgaria--who are my family? what is life like there? how do you speak the language? I knew a few words--goodnight, grandma, grandpa, black monkey.

Then, I received my mission call to Bulgaria. I was ecstatic to finally have the opportunity to answer my questions from my childhood. I cannot tell you the significance of that event on my life.

One affect is on my language. I love the Bulgarian language. I don't speak it well...it's a very rough sounding language and my tone and voice are too soft to speak it well (not to mention my memory). But I do use it when I can.

Thus, Beefche. That's pronounced Beef -chay. "Che" is a Bulgarian diminutive meaning "little or endearing." Although Beef is part of my last name, it is definitely an American spelling and pronunciation. The Bulgarian word for "thank you" is "blagodaria" and pronounced as it looks. I changed it slightly to fit my needs.

When trying to be creative and formulate a title for my blog, I thought and discarded other less-worthy versions. I like my final version. I like the alliteration and little play on words. I like paying homage to my ancestry. I like saying it.

We've come to the conclusion of our language lesson. Now go forth and begin using your lesson. Oh! One last language lesson--my last name has a Bulgarian meaning--"bully or commander." Hah! That doesn't apply to me, right?

Why am I doing this?

2007-11-17T14:55:00.001-05:00

Starting a blog makes me think that I'm succumbing to the gotta-do-as-everybody-does-itis. I admit that it's intriguing to me to be able to write something interesting about everyday occurrences. Manipulating the written language to reflect my thoughts, feelings, personality, etc. is a real challenge. Oh, and of course I have to make it entertaining. Otherwise, why bother reading about it? Telling you that I did my laundry today is so mundane. But telling you that while doing laundry, I was eating ice cream and dropped some on my chest (sans shirt) and scared the cat as I expressed my displeasure....well, that sounds a little more interesting.

And so, I fall to the pressure of blogging and captivating you sufficiently to continue to visit and even to comment. I make no promises...no guarantees that posts will be hilarious or even well written, no pledge that there will be pictures to document the moments, and certainly no committment to such an impossiblity as to post every day.

Therefore, I surrender to the world of commonality--writing about my life for any to read (ok, any that I invite). Perhaps I'll find an outlet for my creativity. Perhaps, you'll find something of worth. Perhaps, we'll both waste time on a mildly entertaining, slightly enlightening, so-so telling of the banality of the life of a Hoosier Mormon.