Beaker for Stupidty

Yesterday Whit and I returned home from an overnight trip to St. George (I spoke there for a WCF board retreat) and didn't quite know what to do with ourselves. It was too late to watch a movie but too early to go to bed and we were too tired to go out and too awake to just sit there and so Whit started to see if he could throw bundles of mail and Ensign magazines over his head and into the trash across the house without looking. After several unsuccessful tries and with garbage and papers strewn in everywhere, he looks at me with half-closed eyes that looked like they were trying to think and says: "boredom is the beaker for stupidity."

Nicknames

You know how when we were in high school and college, we had funny nicknames for some teachers? I remember taking shop class from Moon (I don't remember his real name. Not sure why this was ever a nickname...won't dare allow my mind to venture to any obvious reasons...)

But I had another teacher we just called Frau. She was our German teacher in high school and it just made sense to us, even though it's the equivalent of just calling someone "Mrs."

And so when I became a seminary teacher, I was totally going for a cool nickname. I had visions of being the students favorite teacher and referring to me in cool ways like Sister Wheels, or Sister J (abbreviations are totally cool, too...).

But no. I overheard a student tell another student how, not Sister J or Sister Wheels...or even just Wheels taught seminary...but I heard him tell his friend, "You know that lady who came and spoke at Youth Conference, you know - Fishhand!? She teaches seminary here!

Well, Fishhand it is, I guess.

At least I know kids remember stuff from my talks...

Ahhh...

Well, the pageant is over and done. It threw everyone off that it was so early in the year...even me. But it's nice. We had the CUTEST Princess Pageant the night before the actual pageant and all the little girls (ages 4-9) got to do their 2 minute presentations and things. It made me melt.

The little girls were so dang cute. I loved reading through their applications. One application question was: What do you want to be when you grow up. One girl said: A cat.

...her second choice was a train engineer.

Another girl wants to be a fashion designer. Another one wants to be a professional dancer.

During Orientation, I met some of these little girls for the first time and at one point, I was looking at one as she was telling me some stuff and I looked at her little disabled body and I wondered how difficult school was for her and how hard it will be for her when she wants to start dating or socializing or driving. I started to cry and I had to look away.

...but she didn't know that her life is supposed to be hard. Neither did any of the six Little Wheelzz contestants. They seemed so carefree as they zoomed around the room in their mini wheelchairs and danced with the Disney princesses who came (yes, we totally had Cinderella, Ariel, Belle, and Aurora there. It. Totally. Rocked.).

Go here and watch a little clip video of the Princess Pageant and see the pictures (thanks Sierra Hellstrom, my friend!) http://www.mswheelchairutah.org/pageant-2012.html

I'll be a better blogger now that the pageant is over. This year was particularly tough for some reason and we had so very little help. But now it's over and was truly a success. Plus I've had a 2 hour nap.

Now it's onto the next....

New Laptop

I need a new laptop super bad. I've needed one for a while and I emailed Whit to tell him again how bad I needed one and this is what he wrote back:

Okay, Meg, here is what you need to do:

Do a jig while snapping your fingers three times in exactly a 5 second period.

While doing these first two steps you need to say (in you head) 5 severed ears one time followed by vocally saying 5 severed ears 5 additional times.

Then you need to do the quad dance as quickly as possible and then smile from ear to ear (attached ones) for 25 seconds.

Last of all (which is really first of all) you need to have this whole recipe filmed.

After completing the steps to this magic potion a computer will appear!

Sincerley,

The W(h)itch Doctor.

My husband is magic. I did what the email said and *poof* I have a new laptop on its way!

Horchata

Horchata (hor - chaw - tuh): delicious creamy smooth drink made with ground rice, milk, sugar, cinnamon, and other good stuff. Usually served at your local Beto's.

I can drink a gallon at a time. When it comes to horchata, for some reason gulping seems appropriate and I don't mind the semi-sticky rice milk dribble running out the sides of my mouth and down my neck.

I want to have it so often and I googled a recipe so I could make it at home. It actually seemed pretty easy:

Ingredients

• 1 cup long grain rice, rinsed
• 2 quarts water
• 1 cinnamon stick, broken into pieces
• 1 teaspoon vanilla (optional)
• 1/2 cup white sugar

Directions

1. In a large saucepan, combine rice, water and cinnamon stick. Set aside for 3 hours.
2. After 3 hours, bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 30 minutes. Allow to cool.
3. Puree rice mixture in a blender until smooth. Strain through cheesecloth or a fine sieve. Flavor with vanilla and sugar to taste. Chill, and serve over ice.

I followed the directions and viola! Horchata:


Okay. So, instead of creamy smooth goodness, I created a thin, weird, foamy science experiment. We poured it into glasses and stirred and chomped through soggy-rice baby food.

Gross.

Our neighbors across the street are from Mexico and have the sweetest teenage boys. Whenever I come home from grocery shopping one or all of them rush to help me bring in my groceries. One of the boys stopped by to say hello and I told him about my horchata fiasco and the very next day he brings me this:


Fresh horchata his mom made for us! We didn't want to stop drinking it to take a picture...which is why it's almost gone.

So I've decided that there are some things in life that we just can't make ourselves: horchata, really good Chinese food, apples. And not being able to make them is part of why I like them so much. I guess if I could make horchata whenever I wanted, it'd lose it's appeal.

So even my home-made-horchata-making days have ended, this story has a happy ending: I found a horchata mix.

Mooove over, Mahana

I spoke at a Hawaiian-themed Relief Society activity decorated with leis, tiki torches, and grass-skirted buffet tables with - you guessed it - Hawaiian haystacks.

And what great Lattter-Day Saint Hawaiian-themed Relief Society activity is complete without a visit from everyone's favorite Hawaiian, Johnny Lingo?

But move over, Mahana, these RS sisters have your 8-cow price beat. Each sister (including me!) left with an official certificate (official) certifying them as 10-cow women.

So if anyone questions my beauty or worth, I'll just whip out my certificate and SHOW them that I'm *officially* a 10-cow woman.

I love relief society.

The Husband

I love being married! It's pretty much awesome and my husband is a rockstar.

My home office is a mess (they say all the creative ones are...) and I've got sticky notes all over the wall behind my computer - I probably should invest in a cork board... They say things like quotes I've liked or my current goals or future ideas for goals and stuff. But there're two small sticky notes that have one of Elizabeth Barret Browning's poems on them in tiny writing:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

I usually don't like poetry unless it rhymes (you know, like Silverstein, Suess), I'm sure it has something to do with my literary immaturity. Anyway, I love this poem. Mostly because I'm a sap. But in my sap with the sappy thoughts I've had after having lunch with a 50-year-old-ish friend of mine who's only wish is to find a husband, I thought I'd write my top-ten reasons I love mine:

1. he fixes my car (or gets it fixed)
2. he always makes the budget even out if I go over with buying food or clothes
3. he must immediately remove his shirt when he comes home from work
4. he always follows the rules
5. he never yells (ever)
6. he feels passionately about swearing and even though he's calm, quiet, and never yells, I watched him tell off a basketball referee at a game for doing it so much
   
7. he always wants to do better
8. he'd give me whatever I wanted
9. he grows a beard just to shave a mustache and gross me out
10. he always makes to-do lists
11. he cleans with amazing speed

I know that's 11. They just came so fast. Being married is awesome. I remember being newly paralyzed and thinking that no one would ever want me anymore. Who could look past something so blatantly wrong with me?I guess someone :)

We got married 3 years ago. I was on my honeymoon on the 4th anniversary of being paralyzed.

Here's us yesterday in Logan. He drove me to my talk because 1. he always comes to my talks on the weekends, and 2. he would have anyway because it was so far. My husband = awesome.

(yes, he is currently growing a beard with the intent to shave a mustache and gross me out)