A Little Bit of Heaven and Hell

Once Upon A Time...

Ok, that really isn't the style that I would like to write in today.  I just had absolutely no idea how to start today's post.  So there you go.

The real life story is, I am so happy that the local temple is open again.  I was able to go with a friend, to see her receive her endowment and be sealed to her husband and their boy.  That was great.  But there was also a special surprise.  Right before i went into the temple, I was able to see an old friend.  He used to be family... Let's see... let's call him Cloud.  You know, Clouds, they hang out up in the Sky?  I'm really hoping all of you who know me know who I'm talking about.  Well, Cloud was going to the temple because his fiance was receiving her endowment.  And it was during the same session as my friend.  I was so happy to be able to be part of that special day.  I'm quite the fan of Cloud, and it was good to see him and meet his cute fiance (imagine that word with the cool French little shmuh, shmuh accent thingy).  I'm so happy for him.  Oh, and I also saw one of Happy Mom's brother-in-laws.  There were just so many people to see at the temple.  I love it!

And now for a funny thing.  Well, I think it's funny.  Yesterday, on my way to work, I witnessed some amazing advertising.  There is a car dealership here.... and we'll call it Kate and Sandy's.  It's actually a very masculine place, no girls in the name, but whatever.  As I was driving down the road I saw this:

NEVER!

And then:

NOT HERE!!

Then it flashed to "Kate and Sandy's" with some nice fire in the background.  Pretty much it made it look very Hellish.  Now, I'm sure that if I had seen the rest of the little add, it would have made much more sense.  But from where I was at, it really looks like the previous words should be something like, "Do you want to buy a car?"  Or, "Is there hope in this world?"  Or something exciting like that.  Really, it just seemed so bleak, and hopeless, and no not like Heaven.  I could almost hear some deep cynical voice laughing a deep "Bwa-ha-ha-ha" in the background.  Quality advertising.  That's what we have here.

Remember That One Book About Chocolate And A Giant Turtle?

Once upon a time, my sister Laree became part of a test kitchen for some books.  I am now reading said books.  I think maybe my life is now complete.  I have found my new favorite genre of books.

Novels with recipes.  Really.  What more could a girl ask for?  Ok, so the current books I'm reading are mystery novels, and the heroin is in her 50's.  She's funny.  The first book I read like this was more of the LDS romance option, and all included recipes included chocolate.  That may have been a little bit cooler.  But only because I'm obsessed with chocolate.  Well.. mildly obsessed.  I like it.  A LOT.  But I limit my intake because of the allergy that I have.  I know, it's tragic.  But I will overcome this trial.  Some people are born without legs.  I'm allergic to chocolate.  I think those are pretty close to the same level of tragedy.  Don't you?  Really, bust out your violins, cause you need to play me a sad, sad song.

So now, I read, and I want to cook.  Especially anything with Lemon.  I may be obsessed with lemon, cause it is one of the things Scuttle and I bonded over.  Granted, it was because he made mashed potatoes with lemon juice in them.  And hot dogs.  He said he needed protein in his potatoes. I said he was crazy and should throw them out.  Either way, we used to cook with lemon juice quite often together.  (I can't tell you how glad I am that we picked the lemon juice and not the hot dogs to take on as a running joke.)

Really, there is no point to this.  Just that I made lemon cookies that I found from the books.  They have a TON of cornstarch.  But still, oh-so-tasty.  Mmmm Cookies.

Yep, that's about it.  Have a great day, yo!

Oh, and the part about the turtle.  The main character in the chocolate recipe book inherited a giant Galapagos Turtle.  Some girls have all the luck.

Bust Out The Scissors

I'm speaking in church on Sunday.  I have the chance to talk about the Great Apostasy and Reformation.  I am SUPER passionate about both topics.  I could very easily lecture on this subject for over two hours.  My first thought was GREAT!  I'm so excited!  This will be wonderful!

Then it hit me.  I have 10-12 minutes.  How in the world am I supposed to fit two hours of info in 10 minutes.  So here I am, cutting, and splicing, and taping, and trying to make something that is interesting, faith promoting, and makes a little bit of sense.  Anyone wanna do a body transplant and be me on Sunday?  Hey, thanks for that!

Blind Dates

Dear Friends,

So, life is improving slowly.  I know my last post was severely lacking in warm fuzzies.  I wanted something more enjoyable up, so here I am.  But my life is lame right now.  As a result, you get a story from the past.  CRH will recognize this story, as she was there for it.

This one time, I lived in TX.  CRH was dating the Texan, and we had great plans to go on a double date to the local outdoor symphony.  It was free, and who doesn't love the symphony?  I didn't really know any great boys to ask out, so the Texan was given the job to set me up.  Good gravy, did he pick a winner. (Please read that last sentence with extreme sarcasm.)

CRH and I arrived at the Texan's house and I was able to meet my date.  Let's call him Narc.  That is going to be short for Narcissistic.  Seriously.  Narc was SO stuck on himself!  He spent the entire evening talking about himself.  And he has such a lame sense of humor.  As in, he told dead baby jokes.  I considered giving you an example of a dead baby joke, but really, they are so horrid!  I can't bring myself to share them with you.  But let me give you another example of his humor.  He once stopped a little girl and said, "Hello.  I'm a cannibal.  Do you know what a cannibal is?"  And I managed to stop him from his great plan of telling a random girl that he was going to kidnap her.  Wow.  He's high quality.  The concert may have been great.  I'm not sure.  Narc was too busy talking about himself, so I couldn't pay attention.  Lame!

After the concert, we went back to the Texan's house.  By this point I was SO done with Narc, and he had managed to really tick of CRH.  He was laying on the Texan's love sac, and when he moved, I decided to take his spot, cause he was lame.  So I did.  He then proceeded to run and jump at me.  I really thought I was going to die.  My life flashed before my eyes as Narc came flying at me.  I had no idea that death would be so annoying.  I ended up laying on the love sac with Narc.  We weren't touching.  No worries there.  I wanted to leave, but I couldn't, because I was stuck against the couch.  Narc had to move first.  Finally it came time to leave and Narc moved so I could get up.  Only, instead of letting me up, he proceeded to fold the love sac in half, squishing me in the middle.  He sat on top and then announced his joy in making a "Paily taco".  I sat there, inside the love sac, trying to get my head out far enough that I could breathe, as Narc reached down and started tickling my feet.  Really??  WHO ARE YOU???   I don't know you!  Why are you touching my feet?

I eventually got out.  (As evidenced by the fact that I am alive to type this)  I'm not sure what I did to offend the Texan, so he would set me up with someone like Narc.  Texan, if you read this, you SO owe me!

That was pretty much my last encounter with Narc.  Well, except for the time he heard something that I said, and took it out of context so it was completely awkward.  (Yes, I did say, "I'm cute, you know you want me" but that's not what I meant!)

I'm not really anti-blind dates.  They do make some very great stories!

They Are A Gift From God

I have made a great discovery.  Fuzzy pajama pants are a gift from our loving Heavenly Father.  Let me explain.

Do you ever have those days?  Those days where no matter what you try, it's just not right?  And you try so hard!  Sometimes, those days come in multiples.  I've been going on those days for about a week and a half.  You work, and you work, and you pray, and you fast, and things start to look better, and then they just stop?  And you know that the Church is true.  Nothing like this would make you question that.  But you don't understand why Heavenly Father is telling you what he has.  So you move forward in faith.  You use the language of faith.  You do acts of faith.  And you know that prayer will help.  So you keep praying.  And you know that when you fasted things did get better.  But you need to eat sometimes.  You can only fast so many times.  But this is what Heavenly Father said.  And you don't understand, but you want to.  So you move forward in faith.  Having hope in the answers you have received.  Knowing that you can trust Heavenly Father.

And on days like this, all you want is a hug.  Not just any hug, but a specific hug.  But the person you want a hug from isn't available to give it.

At the end of the day, you put on your fuzzy pajama pants.  And they are comfy.  They are always there, and they are right.  It's not the same as a hug, but you can almost imagine it is.  So you have your pajama pants.  You put them on, curl up in a ball, imagine the hug and you can finally cry.  Sometimes when you feel a little hopeless, you can find love in pajama pants.  It's not what you want, but it will have to do.  And there is always hope for tomorrow.

Pj's.  They are a gift from God.  I don't mean that in a mocking way.  It's totally true.

Step Away From The Glass

Hello Happy World!

So, I'm just sitting here, in my apartment, in my fabulous reversible pj pants.  (I don't know why one would ever need reversible pj pants, and yet I have them.  But they are SUPER comfy... actually they almost look as if they could be workout pants.  Let's use that excuse.  Then, instead of being lazy, I'm just prepping for the workout.  Never mind the fact that they are about a foot too long, cause I'm totally short, so in all reality I could never work out in them.  Let's play with the illusion.  Wow... can we say digress??)

I am also contemplating the option of Scuttle being dead on the freeway somewhere in New Mexico.  Either he's still asleep at this crazy hour, and so is his driving buddy, or he's dead.  Or maybe he doesn't have cell phone service.  Or maybe he's in the slammer, cause he's driving on narcotics, got pulled over and they ran a drug test and jailed him.  If that's the case, then he totally had to use his one phone call to call his parents.  I don't have the means to provide bail money.  Or, he's just dead.  That would totally whomp.  Seriously.  But what other explanation would there be for the lack of communication since midnight last night.  And being the totally sensible person that I am, I of course know the answer.  Death.  I think maybe I understand a bit more why my dear Father gets so nervous when we drive anywhere.  Death.  It's a bummer.

All of this has nothing to do with what I planned on blogging about... well, except for the part where I'm blogging to distract myself from my dearly loved Scuttle's untimely demise.

Once again, I'm going to talk about work.

Picture this with me, you go to Subway, and as you walk in, and stand in front of the sandwich unit.  Because we at Subway like to let you see what you are getting, there is a large curved piece of glass showing you all that we have.  (Also known as the sneeze guard)  Now ask yourself a question.  When you order, how close do you stand to the sneeze guard.  How much do you touch the sneeze guard?

I am amazed how many sensible adults can't keep their grimy, oily hands off of the glass.  They touch it all over the place.  It's like they think, if they just say the word "cucumber" my limited intelligence will have no idea what they are talking about so they have to point as well.  And they don't just poke.  They slide.  They slide their hands all over the glass making it all sorts of streaky and gross looking.  Don't you know that people have to clean that off?  That's just plain rude.

Now on to a more sensitive subject.  I inform you all of this for your own well being, as well as mine.  Just imagine something with me.  Picture yourself leaning against the glass.  Now picture me on the other side, seeing all of you, squished up, in a very unattractive way, against the glass.  And that's all I can see.  I see your stomach, (if you are a woman) your breasts, and your forearms, in all their you aren't a size -4 glory.  Squished up in the most unflattering way for all of the world to see.  Ok, not all of the world, just us Subway girls.

I'll admit it.  I have some squish to me as well.  But I just cannot fathom what in the world would possess a seemingly rational adult to practically climb up onto the glass thus displaying all of their squishiness for us to witness.  It's not pretty.  And it's a distraction.  That is why you have to point at the cucumbers.  It's not because I'm stupid.  It's because I am trying so hard to not look at the girth of your body pressed up against the glass.

So, please, PLEASE.  Step away from the glass.

PS.  Scuttle isn't dead.  I'm so glad.

The Battle to Conquer the Kitchen

I love raspberry jam.  It's SO good.  Growing up, my mother would make it.  MMMM  Yeah, it really is that good.  I don't mind freezer jam, but the real "I was cooked" kind of jam totally rocks my knee-highs.  About 2 years ago, I made jam for the first time with Mom.  She has skills.  It was SO much easier than I ever thought it would be.

Well... Saturday, I'm going up to spend Christmas-ish time with Scuttle and his family.  I'm meeting his parents for the first time.  Ok, we Skype'd once, but that doesn't really count to me.  I was trying to figure out if I should get something for Scuttle's parents and siblings, and I just wasn't sure.  Then the thought came to me: Jam.  I can make jam.  That's something you make for your neighbors, so it's nothing too big.  Just something nice to say, "Hey, I thought of you, but this is non-committal so if you didn't think of me, you don't have to feel bad at all, but if you did think of me, now I don't have to feel bad".  (Who knew one jar of jam could say so much?)

I got my supplies, and decided today was the day.  I'm making jam.  I called Laree, got a little bit of advice, (Mom didn't answer her phone.) and started!  So, here's the deal.  I have issues.  I filched the raspberries from my parent's house.  As they thawed, all of the juice came out.  Really, almost all of it.  But, I figured that out.  I just added a lot of the juice back in when I put the berries in the blender... We don't have a blender.  But L7 said something about a blender... OH!  Smoothie maker.  That should do.  Whew.  One problem averted.  I measured out the sugar, and then measured out the berries... and I had too many.  Good news, I bought two boxes of Pectin, so I could do extra.  Let's one and a half the recipe.  But how do I know how much pectin to use?  Oh, I got it.  I measured how much pectin was in one box.  Then just halved that.  I'm brilliant!

Because I know raspberry juice stains, I put on a grubby shirt, pulled all of my pre-measured bowls close (it was like I was on a cooking show) turned up the tunes and got to cooking!  Oh, and pulled out all of my freshly washed and sanitized jars.  I was SO ready!

I turned on the burner, and started stirring.  And stirring.  And stirring.  My arms were aching, but I persisted. And then it started to boil.  And splatter.  But the directions said you had to wait for a "rolling boil".  I don't really know what that means, but I kept going.  A lot of dancing ensued as I tried to dodge all of the splatters.  Luckily, I was home alone, because anyone here would have heard me.  "Oh no!  That's a big one!  OH MAN THAT ONE HURT!  OW! OW! OH DEAR!  This is no fun.  BLAST! There's another one!  Get it off, it hurts, it hurts!"  You know, little things like that.  All I can think at this point is how in the world does Mom do this so gracefully?

I quickly added the sugar, the jam turned the right color (that's a good sign) and I stirred some more.  Let me give all of you some advice.  Don't one and a half a batch of jam, cause you will be stirring for ETERNITY!  After the "rolling boil" came back I had to stir it for exactly 4 minutes.  Once again, I started the splatter dance.  Good gravy!  No good.  And no matter where I went, my arms weren't long enough to avoid it.

OK, 4 minutes up.  Now to pour the jam into the bottles.  OH BLAST! I don't have a funnel.  Ok, bust out my mad pouring skills... where's the ladle... I don't have a ladle!  Alright, this half cup measuring cup will have to do.  Mad scooping, trying to put on the lids that I had in boiling hot water, more yelping of the burning pains cause I'm dealing with more hot stuff, flipping the jars upside down, more burning.... and DONE!

OHHH no!  Too much jam.  I don't have any more bottles.... uh... uh... well, there's a Pyrex baking dish... i guess I could put it all in there.... NO, no, that's a bad idea... uh... OH, there we go!  The remains went into the can that held the sugar.  I now have about 1/3 of a large can full of jam... that's going to take up a lot of room in the fridge... sorry roomies!

Now, lets look at my kitchen... I totally should have taken a picture.  I have a dirty blender, 2 massive dirty pots, and splatters.... ALL over the stove, all over the bread that is next to the stove, all over the cupboards around the stove, all over the floor, and my socks.  That jam has some mad splatter skills.  I think that one made it at least 4 ft!  I should enter this stuff in an Olympic event!  Do you think if I lobby enough I can get them to add in a Jam Splattering competition?  It's close to the trampoline... right?

I'm not too worse for the wear.  I probably have about 10 new burns on my hands.  But the good news is, I totally did it.  The jam is setting up.  And it tastes good.  Look out Martha Stewart.  I am SO coming for you.  And I think my show would be more fun.  You don't do the splatter dance nearly enough.

She's Mute m'Lord. It Comes and It Goes

Name that movie!  Do you remember?  It's a totally ludicrous line.  And pretty darn funny if you ask me.  Did you guess it yet?  It's from Ever After.

Why am I calling my post this?  Because apparently you can say that about me.  Atleast, it appears that way to all of the great customers that I see at work.  For example, this is a real conversation I had with a customer the other day.  Names have been changed because I have to idea what his name was.  The sad thing is, this is a perfectly normal conversation.


Fredrickson Johanson III: Do you still have those $5 footlong subs?
Paily:  Yes, Yes we do.  They are on this sign here.  *and I point at the sign* 
Fredrickson Johanson III:  Great, where are they listed?
Paily: On this sign here *and I point again*
Fredrickson Johanson III: Oh, good, good.  So... What's on the Meatball sub?
Paily: Well, it has these meatballs *I then open up the meatball container and show them to him* Your choice of Cheese, and any of the veggies that you want.
Fredrickson Johanson III: Any of the veggies?
Paily: Yes, any of them.  It's compeletly up to you.  We'll do it just as you ask
Fredrickson Johanson III:  Oh, I'll take one of those.  WAIT does it come with cheese?
Paily: (Wondering why I ever told him what was on the meatball anway cause I've now repeated almost all of it) Yes, Sir.  It comes with cheese.  You get four pieces of any cheese that we have.
Fredrickson Johanson III: Ok.  I want Swiss
Paily:  I'm sorry, Sir.  We don't carry Swiss cheese.
Fredrickson Johanson III: Are you sure?  Cause I really want Swiss.
Paily:  I am sure that we don't carry Swiss, sir.
Fredrickson Johanson III: Ok, I guess I'll just go with that white kind.
Paily: (sighing internally, because all of our cheese is at least partly white)  Did you want the circle white cheese, the triangle white cheese, the speckled white cheese, or the shredded chedder?
Fredrickson Johanson III: Well.... Do you have Provolone? (Pronounced Pro-va-lone-ee)
Paily:  Yes, sir.  We have Provolone.  (Properly pronounced Pro-va-lone.  Nothing complicated)
Fredrickson Johanson III: Alright.  I want that kind.  Now, what are the meatballs like that you have?  Can I see them?

At this point, every single cell in my body had the desire to jump over the glass, and throttle the customer, but I refrain.  I would like to keep my job, and I'm way too short to jump over the glass.

The thing that surprises me the most, is they are the one who started asking me questions.  They hear me sometimes, but only sometimes.  See?  I'm mute.  But it comes and it goes.

As I type this, I'm wearing a stocking cap that my fabulous Dad knitted for me.  I can't even tell you how much joy that brings me.  You see, my Mom has crocheted for quite some time.  She's all sorts of crafty and works with fabrics, and warm fuzzy.  She's amazing.  But this crafty with fabrics side of my Dad is totally new.  This has been quite the year for him.  He went from a rough, tough, building, grunting man (Ok, not really grunting, but you know the type, construction worker) to this kind, softer, singing, dancing, knitting man.  I mean, he's always been nice, but it's totally different to see him singing, dancing, acting and now knitting.  I've always heard that missions change young men... :)  It makes me happy.  I love you Mom and Dad!  I'm missing you this Christmas, but I'm so proud of your service.  Thank you for giving of yourself so we and others can be blessed.  You are such an example to me!  I love you!

PS. For some reason, I can't seem to get my spell check to work.  So please, forgive my spelling errors.