Guide to Trading Candy

I love Halloween. One of my fondest childhood memories is of the post-trick-or-treating candy-trade. My siblings and I would come home with a sack full of treats, dump them in our respective piles, and carefully organize them by brand, size, etc. And then the serious bartering would begin!

And that is why this I found this video particularly hilarious. Although even those unfamiliar with the age-old candy-trading tradition will probably laugh out loud a few times.  This is so good it deserves multiple viewings to catch all its subtleties. 

ENJOY!

How to throw an awesome Easter party

I really love throwing parties, especially when I have a theme to work with. The Easter party I threw last Saturday for Madelyn and her friends was a huge success, so I've just got to share our fun ideas!

I do want to mention that this party involved a lot of advance preparation, and I "accidentally" stayed at work until 9:30pm the night before the event.  Because of this, I stayed up until 2:30am making food and preparing the house, then got up at 6:30am to make more food and complete the final touches. Thanks to my mom, dad, and brother arriving 45 minutes early to help, everything was ready to go at party time with very little stress.  That is usually my major downfall as a hostess--I want everything fresh at showtime but that leaves too many things to do at the last minute so I'm frazzled as guests arrive. It's frustrating, so I made a concerted effort to avoid that scenario this time.  It worked, and those first 20 minutes of this party were so much more pleasant than in the past!  And I didn't even feel very sleepy until the next day.

Two days in advance, Madelyn helped me make these adorable bird's nest treats. I found the recipe with Oriental Trading Co's free & fun Easter ideas right here. They are actually supposed to be Easter baskets, but the licorice rope handle proved difficult and took away from their finished look, in my opinion.  

See how cute?!

We also had Easter Bunny carrot cupcakes (sans ears--I never came up with a good idea for the ears) which look okay but the secret is that I have the best carrot cake recipe in the entire world so they are scrumptious! 

And I am SO pleased with the way these rainbow Jell-o cubes turned out. I modified a red-white-and-pink Valentine's recipe to create the rainbow layers. A little plain yogurt makes the Jell-o opaque so it looks super-awesome. And they're tasty too!

We served a full brunch spread too: fresh fruit tray including my favorite: fresh pineapple, a Dijon pasta salad, mini ham & cheese fritattas (made in mini muffin tin), and turkey & spinach pinwheels (I'm a sucker for anything made with refrigerated crescent dough).  

Everything looked so pretty and turned out mighty tasty. Which is a relief because I tried several brand-new recipes for this party!

While food is certainly an important element of any good party, it's not always the main attraction, especially when kids are the target audience. 

Late the night before, I had the table all set with the necessary supplies to make these adorable bunny pops.  Oriental Trading made this craft incredibly easy by providing a printable template for the bunny (but I typed up my own version of the instructions).  Madelyn and I had made samples to display in advance. 

I found the perfect pastel suckers at Dollar Tree without any logos on the wrappers, which I think makes them extra-cute (vs. Dum-Dum suckers in the original).

This was a great activity that kids and parents could do at their leisure. I've learned it's easiest to have do-it-yourself activities at parties like this to allow for freedom to mingle rather than a regimented agenda. 

For another simple come-and-go activity I set out Easter coloring pages and colored pencils on the coffee table (covered with butcher paper). 

The "main event" of the party was our Easter Basket "Hunt."  Since I wanted a game that was fun and fair for 16 guests aged 2 to 10, and without the assurance of a sunny day for an outdoor egg hunt, I had to find an alternative. I modified an idea I found somewhere online to create this concept.  I created a small Easter basket filled with little goodies for every child, then tied a piece of yarn to the handle. Then I weaved the yarn through the room--around chair legs, over and under the table, etc. and attached the other end of the yarn to the floor with an Easter nametag sticker on which I wrote the child's name. This was the project I was just finishing at 2:30am. :)

 

Here are some of the kids and parents lining up by their name in anticipation!

I could foresee the possibility of this activity being either utter chaos, or possibly worse: not very fun. Rather, it went smoothly and seemed to be a huge hit!  

It brings me a lot of joy to entertain friends this way and I am so thrilled that everyone had a good time. I got to know some other parents at Madelyn's new school a little better too, which was a primary reason I wanted to host this event. 

Happy Easter Party!

Grilled cheesy adventure

Laaaast Christmas I bought one of those "half price deals" from a radio station website and put it in my husband's stocking. The gift certificate was for a restaurant called The Grilled Cheese Grill, which I had never heard of. But it sounded right up our alley because a) we love grilled cheese sandwiches and the ad implied that this place expands the culinary delight to new heights, b) they are open very late, and the idea of a midnight run for grilled cheese is the kind of thing that we would have totally done back before we had a child sleeping, and c) the restaurant is in a bus. Yeah.

The problem is, The Grilled Cheese Grill is located far on the other side of town where we rarely have business, too far to reasonably drive just to get a grilled cheese sandwich, even if it is served in a school bus.

Fast forward to thiiiiiis year, when I was contemplating how to celebrate Gary's birthday. We tend to honor birthdays by doing something more often than giving something.  My friend Sarah gave me the idea to check out Ape Cave, and while researching, I figured out that The Grilled Cheese Grill is only a few blocks off the path to get there. It was the perfect excuse to use the gift certificate and try a fun, new place for a special birthday lunch. And the best part is, I discovered that the certificate I had purchased was going to expire at the end of the month, so the timing could not have been better!

As we walked along the sidewalk in Northeast Portland toward our surprise destination, we encountered this:

In case it isn't clear, that is a wooden utility pole covered with a four-inch layer of damp flyers.  They had been partially torn off to provide this stunning cross-section of so many lost kitties, grunge band performances, and bikes for sale. I love this picture. 

The Grilled Cheese Grill was everything I had hoped for and then some. The concept of a mostly-outdoor restaurant doesn't usually swoon me in early November, but at least it wasn't raining. 

In addition to the outdoor picnic tables, this old school bus had been converted into a dining area as well.  The entire ceiling is painted with a semi-frightening mural the title of which might be "Otto's acid trip."  We found ourselves fielding questions like, "Mommy, why doesn't that cat have a head?" and "Ha ha! That skeleton is wearing pants!"

While we waited for our sandwiches to be grilled, Madelyn played bus driver. She is wearing those hideous silver sparkly shoes. We hate them, she loves them. What are you gonna do?

And then. And THEN. Our glorious grilled cheese sandwiches were served. Mine was called the BABS: bacon, apples, bleu cheese, and swiss on rye.  This taste sensation might be enough to make me say OMG, if only I were not fundamentally opposed to uttering that abomination. I will say that it was so yummy that tomato soup dipping was unnecessary. Gary got The Pops with ham, tomato, havarti, and honey mustard on Dave's Killer Cracked Wheat. We wanted to get the requisite tomato soup of course, plus a kids' grilled cheese for Madelyn. A la carte, this would have cost $21.75 (actually not a bad deal for a 3-person lunch). But they have this cleverly titled special called  Fromage a Trois where you get three sandwiches ("one for me, one for you, one to split") plus two soups or two chips for $17.50. So instead of the kids' sandwich, we got The Gabby, which features four cheeses, to share with Madelyn. Our gift certificate was a $20 value, and of course they don't give change, so the $1.75 charge to add ham to Gary's choice brought us up to $19.25--perfect!

The food was delicious and the concept so unique and fun that we'd consider driving all the way over there. Just for a Grilled Cheese Grill grilled cheese sandwich. Because I still really want to try The Jalapeño Popper and The Hot Brie. Plus--and this is a BIG plus--they also have sweet grilled cheese sandwiches.  Various combinations of brie, Nutella, marscarpone, bananas,and peanut butter grilled between cinnamon swirl or white bread. You can even add bacon to create The Fat Elvis. Yes, we will definitely need to venture out to The Grilled Cheese Grill again. 

Thanks

In honor of this day of giving thanks, I want to say:

Thank you for reading my words. I hope that they have occasionally made you smile, or laugh, or think about something a little bit differently. I appreciate you for taking time to let me into your world, just a little bit. 

Now let's all go stuff ourselves to the brim in celebration of a bountiful harvest (made possible by privatized farming).  I feel totally justified since I ran 6+ miles in freezing conditions this morning. Also, I have made my best squash soup EVER, and I love this version I've perfected so much that I'm putting my name on the recipe. Let me know if you want to try Kristen's Ginger-Curry Squash Apple Soup (only 70 calories in a cup, but oh-so-delicious!).

At last!

I have my husband to thank for providing the material for today's post.  Gary came home last night very excited to show me the "blog-worthy" picture he took at the grocery store.  How thoughtful, and on Day 18 of Nablopomo, his assistance is most welcome. 

Reeeally, Campbell's? 'Spose I should throw out the 3 cans of Spaghetti-O's that are hanging out in my pantry now, since they are clearly UNhealthy. I just love marketing campaigns and food labeling that unmistakably emphasize a product's former inferiority. Just yesterday afternoon, several hours before Gary brought me this beauty, I reached for a box of tea packets at my friend's house which boasted "Improved Taste!" I chuckled under my breath, but never mentioned it to Gary, so you can see how we truly have a profound mystical understanding. Thanks, Gary. It's nice that my blog can be a team effort. 

I know you've seen them too. Won't you please share some of the marketing delights you've noticed which tend to have the opposite of the desired effect on your interest in the product?

Empty Egg

It was the first egg I picked up out of the carton, so I did not at first realize how light it was in absence of immediate comparison. I cracked it on the edge of my glass bowl and bits of shell shattered onto the counter.  This was unusual, and confusing. The inner seal had not yet been penetrated, so I curiously shook the egg. It wasn't empty, that I was sure of. But there didn't seem to be the usual movement inside which would indicate aqueous matter.  Upon closer inspection, the egg's shell was entirely intact besides the damage I had done moments before.  

Inside, the membrane which usually holds the outer shell mostly together (protecting your scrambled eggs and muffins from stray bits of shell most of the time) had hardened into what seemed like a second layer of shell: an egg within an egg. The top half of the shell was completely dry inside. The bottom half contained a solid yolk, hardened as if it had been boiled, as you can see below. 

We get our eggs from my dad's chickens. I have no idea what was wrong with this one. Surely it never would have passed inspection coming out of a giant egg factory. And then we would have enjoyed Gary's delicious skillet potato breakfast scramble just as much--but without this mildly interesting incident which serves as my excuse for a blog post today.

The perfect diet

Recently I was forced to witness an exchange of emails between a couple of ladies sharing ideas about gluten intolerance in their children. I say forced because it was sent out as a Yahoo Group message, so reading their e-mails felt like unintended eavesdropping.  And this is where I restrain myself against launching a rant about the gluten-free fad.

I do have to mention, however, that several months ago a friend was confiding in me about her weight loss struggle, and said that she was going to try going gluten-free. Because this is not a very close friend, all I felt comfortable doing was nodding and smiling. What I wish I could have said is this: "Gluten is wheat protein. Protein is good for you. Unless you are have a diagnosable condition in which your body cannot tolerate the substance, then gluten is good for you." That is only part of what I wish I could have said, actually. But it's the most innocuous portion, safe for public consumption among friends.

Back to the email exchange mentioned previously. I didn't really want to read those messages, but it's hard for me to ignore words that are in front of my face. In the final response, the mother who asked for advice thanked the other woman for sharing her advice, and then wrote (read carefully):


I am going to start looking into a glutton free diet. 

I read that and immediately thought, "Now that's the diet for ME!"

Forgive me for being insensitive to her child's health challenges, but I found this typo to be laugh-out-loud funny. And seriously, purging my diet of gluttony would do just the trick for improved health and body composition. I have actually saved the conversation in my email box since it was received over 3 months ago, supposedly to remind myself to write a blog post about it, but perhaps also to serve as a frequent reminder of the perfect diet. 

Jicama-Gooseberry, anyone?

When I was a wee lass, yogurt came in varieties such as peach, lemon, or blueberry. The release of such an exciting flavor as marionberry was pretty exciting at my house. 

As years have passed, yogurt has apparently felt the need to get a little fancier.  Peach has become Harvest Peach or Peaches n' Cream. Rather than plain ol' lemon, we now have Lemon Chiffon or Lemon Burst.  Blueberry is now Blueberry Cobbler or Mountain Bueberry.  Vanilla Bean or French Vanilla instead of vanilla.  You get the idea.  I don't fault yogurt for desiring more flair.  Appealing to the palate is powerful marketing.  But when yogurt started manipulating not only the names, but the actual flavors, it got a little weird. Have you seen White Chocolate Raspberry Mousse yogurt? Green Tea yogurt? Decadent Cherry Cheesecake yogurt? I have.  Perhaps it's all going a bit too far. 

My local grocer is currently displaying these intriguing varieties available from Lucerne: 

Apricot Mango--not too strange.  At least the other three on the top row are "Limited Edition" seasonal flavors, but still: Caramel Apple, Cranberry Orange, and Gingerbread. To me, yogurt is a fresh and fruity matter. I'm uncomfortable with cookies and caramel entering the equation.  Along the bottom we have Passion Orange Pineapple--that's a lot for one yogurt, but at least they are all fruits we've heard of.  Next comes Yumberry Grapefruit, Bartlett Pear Mangosteen, and Apple Goji.  What? I have to admit, it would be fun to be the one throwing the darts at the wall of strange fruits to create new flavors. I could totally do that: Papaya Plum Pie. Apricot Kumquat. Coconut KiwiFig.  Avocado.

So yes, I did buy some.  I tried the three on the bottom right.  I did not care for the apple flavor much, the pear one was okay (being Bartlett pear made all the difference -rolling eyes-), and grapefruit was surprisingly decent as a yogurt flavor. I still don't exactly know what a yumberry, mangosteen, or goji are however.  I guess it's one way to stand out among all the pomegranate and acai products out there.

Here's a fun yogurt flavor you should check out because it's delish and not embarrassing: Tillamook Cherry Vanilla. Yum!

My plate is full (of Halloween goodness)

Not that daily blogging would ever be a breeze for me, but had there been a way for me to know one of my key employees would quit this month, I doubt I would have taken on the challenge of NaBloPoMo.  The hiring process and hours of training each week in addition to my regular workload complicated the whole ordeal.  Of course, I seem to lack the ability to monitor and limit my commitments anyway, so maybe having that advance perspective I wished for would not have affected my decision to commit to NaBloPoMo during a very busy October.

While I am pleased with the results of Blog-fest 2009, I am very glad it is nearly complete.  In addition to everything else going on this month, I decided a few weeks ago to plan a Trick or Treat party for our friends and their kids (tonight). And I had already committed to host a Halloween lunch gathering on the 30th (yesterday). So the last two days I have spent cooking, cleaning, decorating, doing dishes, and more cooking to prepare for two consecutive Halloween parties at my house.  Granted, my vision for a casual party tonight with a few friends escalated into a full-blown party with over 40 confirmed attending (I figured a lot more people would have other plans on Halloween).  I'm completely thrilled that so many people want to spend the festive evening with us, and I love throwing parties.  It's just a little bigger than I originally anticipated. Oh, and I'm leaving town on a business trip in 3 days, which means on top of everything I have to do all the usual pre-travel preparations, packing, and tying up of loose ends at home and work.  But the going away after it all is worth having a very full plate!

Mine wasn't the only full plate this Halloween. Check out the festive and spooky dishes I served to guests of my two Halloween parties this weekend:

Mummified pizza wrap

Coordinating mini-mummies

Pumpkin cheese ball

Halloween swamp dip with crispy bat wings

Cheesy ghosts

Crunchy bugs

Frozen gummy worms for ice water

Bet you didn't even know what a veritable Martha I am. I discovered a quandary tonight to keep in mind for future parties, however.  I chose 6:30 as the start time for this party specifically to avoid conflicting with family dinner times.  But guests were encouraged to each bring a Halloween-themed appetizer or dessert to share.  The result of these two provisions was three countertops loaded with platters, bowls, and plates of food, and lots of guests who just weren't that hungry.  So I begin to think that in the future, for a party where food will be plentiful, I should go ahead and schedule it earlier, so people will come hungry and eat more.  But that's a tough call, because by scheduling an hors d'oeuvres party earlier, I run the risk of people expecting a full meal and then running out of food with hungry guests.  Most of my friends escaped from my house before I could thrust leftovers upon them, so I was left with a ridiculous abundance of food. I feel terrible that I ended up throwing quite a bit away, because I don't have room for and won't be able to eat it all.  It's just impossible to predict these kinds of things I guess.  But it seems like everyone had a pretty good time, in spite of the mass chaos that 27 adults and 22 children can create in an enclosed space.

Hope you had a SUPER Halloween!

Dear Big Carl,

You are not a Big Mac.

Your commercials claiming to be a far superior version of the beloved Big Mac piqued my curiosity. After all, why is there an extra piece of bread in the middle of the Mac? So when I was in need of lunch and passed by Carl's Jr. this afternoon, I decided to put your assertions to the test. My taste test.

Here's the thing. You can't just copy the special sauce and compare yourself to a Big Mac. I get it. You have a lot more meat. Guess what? In my book it's actually better to minimize the amount of fast food beef I consume. All that cow was too much for me: the taste of greasy beef overpowered every bite.

And on a Big Mac, the finely shredded lettuce has a way of achieving unity with globs of Special Sauce in a way that is simply impossible for two ginormous pieces of thick, crunchy iceberg.

Mostly though, Big Carl, how can you even align yourself with the Big Mac when there is nary a pickle to be found between your measly two buns?

I regret to inform you that I will continue to satisfy my occasional Mac-related hankerings by hitting the McDonald's drive-thru. I'll pay the extra dollar because I will be able to finish more than half of the sandwich  (of course one full Big Mac is about equal in calories to just half of a Big Carl, so it's best all that beefiness grossed me out partway through). As an added benefit, McDonald's offers a huge variety of options to feed my daughter, many of them relatively healthy, compared to the chicken strips on your menu--which appeared to be the only item at least somewhat geared toward the younger palate and inferior dexterity of a child.

In closing, thank you for creating the opportunity to discover the true reason for Big Mac's bun number three.  That extra piece of plain bread in the middle of a double burger (inferior in total weight as it may be) serves to effectively mask the flavor of pre-formed beef patties (don't think that just because your patties have neat little bumpy edges I can't tell that they are shaped that way from a mold).  Because of that third bun, the Special Sauce, American cheese, and pickles really shine through.

Sincerely,

Medium-sized Kristen

The drawbacks of losing weight

Yes, you read the title correctly. And perhaps you think that aside from underweight individuals and eating disorders, there couldn't possibly be any drawbacks to weight loss: it improves cardiovascular health, decreases a person's risk for a myriad of deadly conditions and diseases, enhances physical appearance and self-confidence, and more.

It is a well-documented phenomenon that individuals who lose a significant amount of weight (often through surgical means) are faced with unexpected emotional and social side-effects, and struggle with a persisting poor self-image, even after body normalization.

Of course, I don't have personal experience with the psychosocial effects related to extreme weight reduction. For that I am tremendously grateful. But my most recent deliberate efforts to improve my body composition have been successful, with drawbacks.

After gaining 67 pounds growing a seven-pound fetus, I returned to my pre-pregnancy weight exactly 9.5 months after giving birth. I easily maintained that weight for five more months, until I stopped breastfeeding, at which time the pounds crept back on. When I noticed I had regained 12 pounds in a year, I got serious and lost it, but not serious enough to maintain the result. Sigh. It is hard work, and my heart goes out to those with much more weight to lose, who could easily become discouraged by the prospect.

This past July I reached my highest weight since losing the pregnancy pounds. I have been exercising seriously and consistently throughout all these fluctuations. I do strength training and cardio at Curves, I run several days a week, I had been walking my hilly neighborhood pushing a stroller, and more. Since working out 6 days a week wasn't doing it, I committed to a generic calorie-counting plan using an online food journal at Livestrong.com. I lost about 6 pounds in a couple of months, and then in September joined my Curves staff in my challenge to complete a cycle of the Curves Weight Management Plan. This program was not only much easier to follow, but more effective as well.

I have now lost a total of 16 pounds in less than three months and weigh a couple of pounds lighter than I did when I got my driver's license at the perky-bodied age of 16. But here is the first major disturbance: My body looks nothing like it did at 16. The scale might give me cause to celebrate a number I haven't seen since before puberty, but the mass of uncooked pizza dough hanging below my rib cage speaks to me otherwise. Sometimes I gather it all up into my hands and fantasize about just slicing it right off with a knife. Of course there are doctors who will do that without such a bloody mess all over my tile floor. And if I can ever get approval from my sweet, loving husband, I might just be wearing the paper gown under those bright lights.

Why can't I tell my body from where to burn the fat? Why does my body think that breasts are less of a necessity than a muffin top? I've always had an average-sized chest, nothing to write home about. While I was expecting, however, I got to enjoy a set of Double-D's for a few months. My hopes of keeping them were dashed, though, as they shrunk to A-cups by the time I was finished nursing. That was small enough, thank you very much, but as I've lost weight recently, I feel like I might need to buy myself a few Hannah Montana and High School Musical training bras! Seriously, it's getting ridiculous. Maybe during my next pregnancy we'll have a few special months with boobs once again. (Yes, I said "we'll," don't you think I'm not the only one who misses them?)

Speaking of pregnancy, that's the next issue. I often wonder why I am making these sacrifices to slim down now when it's only a matter of time before I put my body through that most traumatic of physical changes, including weight gain, again. I guess I've worked with too many women who retained just 10-15 pounds after each pregnancy, compounded until they were 40 pounds overweight. I figure it's easier to return to where you started than it is to lose more than you gain during pregnancy. Also, I'd prefer to be in peak condition when embarking on that journey again, as I believe my physical fitness and body composition affects the entire experience and outcome. Lastly, I don't know exactly when the time to expand our family will be right, and I don't want to suffer the discomforts of flabbiness until then.

Another drawback, which is kind of a catch-22, is the way my clothes fit now. I am physically disturbed when my clothes don't fit right. It is an indescribable sensation, like nails on a blackboard perhaps, and is one of my primary motivations for losing weight. I just can't stand my clothes being too tight or a shirt that is too short exposing the flab above my jeans. The discomfort also applies to sleeves or pants being too short, so it's not just about my fatness. It's also about my longness. Anyway, I still have the awkward flat tire and muffin top to cover around my middle, above where my jeans sit, but the jeans themselves are now looking sloppy and loose. I don't like the way they feel or look, but I'm not sure the next smaller size would quite fit yet. And I don't want a tighter waistband to accentuate the "curves" above it.

(That's not me. Her boobs are way bigger.)

I am moving on with determination to conquer "Phase 3" of the Curves plan, which involves a higher calorie diet alternating with lower calories in order to raise metabolism (which slows during any diet--that is why weight loss eventually plateaus) without regaining the weight lost. After Phase 3, I'll be mentally prepared to make the commitment again after taking the "break" from dieting, and my metabolism will be revved up and ready to burn more. I just hope that what fat remains in my chestal region will be mercifully spared, while that around my belly is finally sacrificed appropriately.

Alternative art

Fingerpainting might just be the bane of my existence.

Most projects that can hold my toddler's attention for longer than a nanosecond are a welcome blessing. I relish any opporunity to engage Madelyn in a purposeful activity where I feel that her mind and/or motor skills can develop. But I am often more selfish than a mother probably ought to be, because the most appealing aspect of such activities is the collateral benefit allowing me a few minutes to work through my to-do list, make dinner, or read a book.

But fingerpainting, for a two-year-old at least, demands among the highest levels of parental attention and focus. We go outside. We put on grubby clothes (or not, see photo). The paint is washable. Yet I still can't bring myself to leave her alone because the moment she loses interest in her paper canvas, the patio chair or Hardiplank siding might become her next work of art realize the need to intervene. Maybe when boredom sets in, she'll simply come and find me, but how many painty fingerprints might ardorn my walls by the time I hear that she's come inside? In such cases, the free time afforded by the project is swiftly cancelled out by its disastrous consequences.

Also, Madelyn has a hard time squeezing the paint out of the tubes, but of course is determined to do it by herself. I believe in allowing children opportunities to try the tasks that challenge them in order to improve, as long as I'm not particular about the outcome and no danger is imminent. Those circumstances apply here, but when Madelyn finally gets paint out, it splooges half of the bottle onto the paper and it really bugs me. So then my control freak side and my patient, loving mother side endure an internal struggle.

Then there's the fact that Madelyn doesn't really "get" fingerpainting. And that it takes about as much time to clean up as it does to complete a dozen works of art. Oh, and having to set the papers out to dry all over my kitchen table because it's too windy outside and the paint takes forever to dry since Madelyn doesn't "get" fingerpainting and all the globs stay in pretty much globular thickness and therefore need a couple of days under the heat of a thousand suns to solidify.

So, when the daily inquisition regarding the possibility of getting out the fingerpaints recently ensued, I brilliantly fashioned the perfect alternative.

One white plate.

One bristled basting brush.

Two colors of applesauce in wide-mouthed cups.

This painting project satisfied Madelyn's artistic cravings longer than fingerpainting ever has. The novelty of it was surely exciting, plus the fact that she was able to literally enjoy the fruits of her talent (being apparently unable help herself from eating Play-Doh, this is a natural progression). The kitchen table is just a stone's throw from my workspace, and the inherent risks of fingerpaint just aren't present with this new medium. I diligently worked nearby, delightfully attuned to the sounds of a happy toddler, not only expertly painting but essentially licking up her own mess as well.

Culprit

Last night I made dinner twice.

Damn dog.

While Tillamook's Special Reserve Extra Sharp Cheddar melted over the sizzling bean and grain burgers, I carefully spread mayo and salsa on 2 and half toasted whole grain buns. A sprinkling of lettuce and they readily accepted the warmth of wholesome black bean patties. Two Bartlett pears sliced, then divided among the plates. Water glasses filled and arranged around our little table alongside each plate. Dinner was ready, looking equally pretty and delicious.

I was hungry.

My daughter, however, was entrenched in the clever plot of the Leap Frog Letter Factory, and I knew the pleasant dinner I envisioned was certainly more likely if I didn't pull her away before X, Y, and Z. So I snuggled up with my golden-haired cutie and quickly read a chapter of my book while awaiting the final bars of "Every Letter Makes a Sound" to be complete.

Just as I suspected, with the movie over, Madelyn made her delightful way toward the kitchen calling for her daddy: "Gehhhweeee (Gary), dinner ah weddy! Come on!"

When we emerged from the hallway to look upon my lovely, nutritious feast, I immediately noticed one glaring difference from the scene I had left there a few minutes previously. A minor thing, really. Each plate remained innocuously centered atop its place mat. It was just that these plates, upon which I had carefully arranged our dinner, were now EMPTY. This I could see from my vantage point 25 feet away. No evidence of the mass destruction that had recently--and very quietly--taken place remained. Nothing but crumbs.

My heart sank as I loudly groaned, "Oh...no." Even before I took 3.2 seconds to scan the room, looking for some evidence that maybe I was indeed insane and had not in fact cooked dinner and set this very table, I knew that the dinner I was anxious to devour now sat barely chewed in the pit of Loki's ravenous stomach.

From the other room, my husband grew very concerned and ran out to see why I was so distraught. I showed him the empty plates and effectively pointed at the abominable Siberian Husky licking his guilty chops a few feet from the table. His sister had been lying on the bed with Madelyn and me, so there was NO QUESTION about the culprit's identity.

I had to allow myself a few minutes to just be angry before I could re-make our entire meal. There wasn't enough left to feed us all, but thankfully I had cooked all four burgers (intending to have leftovers). So I sliced more expensive cheese, reheated the patties, prepared take-2 of the buns, and we all shared one and a half bean and grain burgers and the one remaining pear. Actually, my sweetheart allowed me to eat the whole burger and took a few bites of Madelyn's half plus fixed some leftovers from the fridge. How generous!

This morning I only fed Loki half of his usual breakfast. Despite what I might wish, I know he will not make any connection between his paltry serving size and last night's despicable behavior. But I figure that his naughty binge provided plenty of additional calories. And I felt only slightly satisfied with my act of righteous indignation.

Alas, I still love the damn dog.

Zeroing in on a half-eaten PB&J at Donner Memorial

June 30, 2009

All you can eat, and then some

It's Christmas Eve. If there is a better way to celebrate than All-You-Can-Eat, I don't want to know about it. My little family braved the slippery roads (conditions are the worst yet on day 10 of Winter Blast 2008, as the snow is melting into slushy ruts) and journeyed to Izzy's for dinner. It's "pizza, plus a whole lot more," you know!

For generally being regarded as a food snob, I've gained an unexpected affinity for Izzy's. Gary illuminated for me the unique, buttery crunch of their signature thick pizza crust. The salad bar is extensive and fresh. They even have a few dinner entrees which surpass the usual quality of buffet fare. And the buffet concept suits the dining style of a toddler perfectly: "a bite and half of 17 different items, please."

Our Christmas Eve dinner was stupendous. The menu was just fine, I mean it is only a buffet after all, not fine dining. What made this meal so enjoyable was Madelyn's 100% agreeable temperament from beginning to end. She ate and ate and ate, she talked and laughed, she didn't squirm out of her seat or throw a fit when we took something away, she wiped her mouth with her napkin, she wiped her ducky's mouth with her napkin. Are you getting the feel for our Christmas Eve miracle?

Even during the drive home Madelyn was either quiet or cheerful. Being stuck in her carseat often makes Madelyn cranky, and it was nearing her bedtime. About a mile away from home, she started talking up a storm in the backseat. I turned around to visit with her, just in time to see her stick her finger down her throat, gag, then giggle with delight. I think it's common for younger babies to get a kick out of discovering their gag reflex, which Madelyn did a long time ago.

I said, "Madelyn, don't do that, it's icky," then turned back around. I heard her gag again, followed by satisfied laughter. I just shook my head and muttered, "Bulimic baby."

You've probably figured out where this is going. If you're feeling a little slow tonight, I'll give you a hint: my washing machine is full of carseat straps and buckles as we speak.

We arrived home, and when I opened the back door to get Madelyn out of her seat, she lifted her arm and said, "Wet." She didn't have her cup of water to spill, so puzzled, I felt where she was pointing and--wet, indeed. Wet and chunky. At that moment I caught a whiff of regurgitated Izzy's and almost made my own contribution to the mess.

Madelyn has only thrown up one other time, and it was last Christmas day. A bunch of people in my family got very very sick, but Madelyn just puked once and was fine. On both occasions her vomit has smelled rather sweet, which I think is odd. Is it a baby digestive thing? This time, of course, she was not sick at all. She was just purging after the buffet binge.

After picking off a few spaghetti noodles, I stripped Madelyn and put her straight into the bathtub. I was dismayed to find that removing the carseat cover is either impossible or, more likely, very complicated and arduous. Thankfully, the worst of the mess was on the straps, which I was able to unthread and throw in the washer. I just hope I can remember how it all goes back together. Because, you know, I trust my child's life to those 82 inches of nylon.

I'm all about family traditions. But I don't think Christmas Vomit should be one we all go sticking our fingers down our throats to preserve.

The stash

If you have been wondering why I keep getting fatter and fatter (I know I have), the photo below should unravel the mystery. No it is not a pregnancy pee stick with a pink plus sign. Sorry.

Behold, our treat cupboard. That's right: we have an entire cupboard with two pull-out shelves dedicated to housing edibles of the sweet snack variety. And recently, this is more of a backup plan, since our counter has been decorated of late with various baked goods and candy we have received as gifts/party leftovers/church fellowship bribes.

I would like to point out a couple of things about the photo, though. In our defense, most of the items pictured are never touched. For example, we dumped Madelyn's Trick-or-Treat haul in the front corner. We don't really care for the selection, but hated throwing it away, you know? Also, most items on the top shelf were intended to be toddler snacks, but we rarely give them to her since we feed our daughter much more healthfully than ourselves, apparently. The brown box right in the middle is bona fide Japanese chocolate-covered potato chips, left here by Yuka. She went home to Japan in June. There are really only a few staple treats here, two of which are indicated by the gaping bags, clearly left open to facilitate ease of handful acquisition without wasting precious time pulling apart the resealable closure.

As owner of (and faithful believer in) multiple Curves facilities, it is embarrassing to admit that I enjoy some manner of delectable treat no less than once per day, and usually more often. The thing is, I manage to exercise 5-6 days every week. We eat healthy, balanced meals most of the time. But it's time to admit that I am addicted to sugar. This is an addiction whose power must rival that of nicotine or coffee, but is so often overlooked. And I'm a victim of it. I know because it is very difficult for me to turn down sweets, even when I'm stuffed full, and even when there is no reason to have them. My mind can be saying to me clearly, 'you don't need to eat this,' and I take another bite.

There is a certain euphoria that accompanies the delicious sweet taste, and it's a deadly combination. I'm sure there is research out there to support my assumption that the chemical effect on the brain is similar to what some drugs would do, although almost certainly more mildly.

I have been working with people who need and want to lose weight for over six years. It is no fun to see them struggle. But as their Curves coach, I can provide information and encouragement; the rest is up to them. I have thus far been blessed with a decent body composition, but I think many of my Curves members looked about like me 15 or 25 years ago too. Everyone started by gaining the first five pounds. I know I need to be more vigilant, but overcoming addiction is hard. Conversely, justification is so easy to come by. And given that it's "The Holidays" (Halloween through the first week of January, you know), I'll be faced with my vice at every turn.

I won't ever be that person who doesn't eat junk food. I love it. I'm happy to pay for the privilege through faithful exercise. I believe moderation, not abstinence, is the key. So the second week of January, I'll start moderating like nobody's business. I swear.

Pumpkin recipes modified

I feel compelled to follow up on the recipes I posted last Sunday, in case anybody ever decides to make them. In doing so, I'll be posting a Thanksgiving-related topic for the fourth consecutive day. So I hope you have enjoyed this weekend's veritable cornucopia of Thanksgiving goodness.

First, the Cream of Spiced Pumpkin Soup. The recipe was a good jumping-off point to instruct me on how to create a creamy pumpkin soup base from scratch. But when I had finished adding the requisite ingredients from the recipe, the soup was very bland and boring. Somewhere along the line I have developed an ability to distinguish individual flavors within recipes, and I can imagine interesting taste and seasoning combinations, which makes cooking without recipes a lot of fun. But it also makes me very discerning of good flavors and textures in food: a "food snob" as Gary lovingly calls me.

Thanks to my excellent chefery skillz, I was able to add a lot more of this and a few dashes of that, and the pumpkin soup turned out SO delicious. Well, in my opinion anyway. It wasn't a huge hit on Thanksgiving, but I honestly didn't expect it to be. Amidst so many luxurious, calorific options, who who would salivate over soup? I started my meal off with a little plate of strawberry-poppyseed green salad and a bowl of my soup. It was perfect to have those mild flavors before diving in to the bold, heavier dishes. Then yesterday I ate some of my pumpkin soup along with Thanksgiving leftovers. It was at that time I realized that if anyone took a bite of the soup after eating either of the VERY rich and totally drool-worthy sweet potato dishes that were served, the soup didn't stand a chance. By itself, or with a nice crusty bread, the soup had a perfect, sweet flavor. But it was completely blown away by the maple-infused sweet potatoes and marshmallow-topped candied yams/apples dishes. Oh well, that just means I got to keep all the leftovers. Suckers!

I didn't measure anything, but here is my best recollection of what I added to the soup after following the original recipe (now I can look it back up if I ever want to try and duplicate it):
1/4 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
3 tsp curry powder
2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp ground allspice

...or something like that.

Next, the Pumpkin Cream Sandwich Cookies. I had to doctor these up as well, but that is primarily because I tried using my cooked fresh pumpkin instead of canned, as the recipe instructed. The cooked pumpkin was of a much thinner consistency, so I ended up with cake batter instead of cookie dough. My first batch of cookies were large and flat, not like the ones pictured. So I added more flour to thicken the dough. That basically worked, except that now they tasted too flour-y, so I added more pumpkin pie spice. The cookies ended up having a very soft, fluffy texture, kind of like a mini-cake rather than a typical cookie. So they didn't quite look like the photos, but tasted okay.

Once again, my salvaged pumpkin cookie sandwiches couldn't quite hold their own against the Costco pies and chocolate fudge cake. I was only surprised a little that they weren't more popular with the younger set. I know pumpkin spice isn't usually a kid-favorite, but I figured they might find amusement in the whole "cookie-sandwich" novelty. I even spotted one cookie with a bite missing placed audaciously back on the platter. It was probably (hopefully?) one of the forgivable children, but still.

We got together the following night with my brother's family that wasn't able to join us on Thanksgiving, and he really liked the cookies! Bryan would never pretend to like something to avoid hurting my feelings, especially something as gay as a pumpkin cream sandwich cookie. So I sent almost all of the leftovers home with him, feeling very proud that they went to an appreciative home.

Remind me that next Thanksgiving, I ought to just volunteer to bring the canned cranberry jelly.

A parenting victory

Being a parent is challenging. And I'm getting the idea that it only gets more complicated as children grow up, which won't make it any easier. Right now we're debating the merits of pacifier weaning and struggling to interpret and avoid UFO's (unidentified freak-outs). It's impossible to know if you are making the right decisions, because their results are usually not evident until it's too late to do something different. Sometimes we have to do things that we hope are in Madelyn's best interest even when they may not be the most pleasant or easiest choice.

I am so happy to report one of those triumphant moments in parenting where our persistence about what we believed was the right thing to do paid off.

Two days ago, at Thanksgiving dinner, Madelyn was in the midst of one of her all-too-common ornery moods. Due to the combination of a missed nap and a bad cold (and possibly a new tooth, but I feel like that is one of those things we parents are always blaming toddlers' bad moods on), Madelyn was cranky and uninterested in eating. We tried faithfully to feed her, to no avail. You just can't force kids to eat, you know. So we eventually gave up in the interest of our own desire to enjoy the incredible feast.

A little while later, the dessert buffet appeared on the scene. One by one, members of the family plunked down at the table with plates overflowing with apple pie, pumpkin pie, chocolate fudge cake with whipped cream, and pumpkin cream sandwich cookies. Of course the mountains of sugar caught Madelyn's attention. I've always wondered how this little one can identify and lock in on any food in the dessert or candy category, even when she's never seen or tasted the likes of it before. Can she smell sugar in any form?

We weren't about to let Madelyn dive in to dessert after having not more than a few licks of dinner. I put together a little plate of leftovers intending to help her eat a little bit so she could ultimately have the dessert she wanted. Understandably, she was even less interested in turkey and stuffing now that the sweets were out in full force. When my back was turned, someone (a very loving Grandma), had placed half a slice of cake on a little plate in front of Madelyn at the kids' table. I discovered it before she delved in, and explained to my parents that we really didn't want Madelyn to eat chocolate cake in place of any semblance of a healthy meal. My mother said (kind of to me, and kind of under her breath), "But taking away her cake isn't going to make her want to eat dinner." While that analysis might be correct, I believe that giving her the cake would not be right in spite of it. See how hard parenting is?

Soon we had a dessert prohibition-induced meltdown. At a loss for how to remedy this tricky situation, we tried to lay Madelyn down for her much-needed nap. Unfortunately, that doesn't usually work at my parent's house. When there is a house full of cousins and noise and now forbidden treats, she won't be tricked into closing her eyes in a dark room. A certain crying style indicates weak protest, but this nap attempt elevated her tantrum to full speed ahead.

By this time, most of the family had finished dessert. Gary and I canvassed the tables clearing evidence-containing plates. Madelyn was content playing Nerf football with Audrey and Grandpa, so we took advantage of the crest in her mood swing by offering a bite from the savory food spectrum. She still wasn't going for it. The three of us calmly sat down on the kitchen floor away from distractions, and got her to focus. I remembered that in the morning, Madelyn was really excited to get in the hot tub, but we explained that we were going to take a walk first and then we would get in the hot tub after we got home. Thinking maybe that experience would be fresh in her memory, I set to explaining:

"Do you want cake Madelyn?"
"Yeah!!!"
"You need to have some yummy dinner first, and then after you eat some dinner, you can have some cake! Just like this morning we went on a walk first and then we got in the hot tub after we went on a walk. We'll eat dinner first, and then have some cake after we eat dinner."
"Yeah!!!"

And she took a bite of mashed potatoes and gravy.

Then she ran away.

After a quick toss of the ball, she ran back to the plate and grabbed--of all things--a floret of broccoli. She devoured it on her way out of the kitchen, while her parents still sat dumbfounded on the floor. Not wanting to risk losing this momentum, I approached Madelyn with another piece of broccoli, but made her chase me to get it. She loved that game and within a couple of minutes had eaten all of the broccoli and almost all of the turkey and potatoes on her little melmac plate.

My heart was bursting with excitement and pride. Amidst some proverbial raised eyebrows, we were persistent with what we believed to be the best thing for Madelyn, and it worked. She ate a healthy dinner without force or coersion. I truly believe that she understood what we were saying. And she got to have a quarter of a piece of chocolate fudge cake. It would have been SO much easier to just let her eat dessert with the rest of the kids. But she probably wouldn't have eaten any dinner if we had. And instead of learning the natural progression of dessert as a treat after dinner, she may have learned that if she screams loud enough and refuses dinner long enough, she'll get exactly what she wants. I wanted to stand up and shout, "See?!? It worked! She ate her dinner because we didn't let her have cake!" But I remained calm and didn't gloat.

That's what the blog is for, right?

The little rascal: she is a good girl, and so smart!

We love her dearly.

Thanksgiving poop

For several days now, I have been undecided on what to write about today: Thanksgiving Day. If not for NaBloPoMo, I would have simply written nothing, and not given it so much as a second thought. However, I don't intend to fail now that I have come this far, so my brain has been on the hunt for a suitable topic all week.

One thing I was sure I did not want to write is an uninteresting directory of intangibles I am thankful for. It's not that I don't take the opportunity at Thanksgiving to reflect solemnly on such things, I just happen to think it would be a boring blog topic because the rest of you are probably feeling thankful for the same things. Not to mention, an unintended smugness often accompanies such public lists, which doesn't resonate with true gratitude, in my humble opinion. I make a concerted effort to be thankful all year long (some days it is easier than others!), so I don't want to cheese it up by making a bullet-point list containing the usual cliches.

So instead, enjoy reading about why this was the "crappiest" Thanksgiving ever.

Shortly after we commenced gorging ourselves on the Thanksgiving spread this afternoon, my brother-in-law Randy made a comment comparing the sizes of some of the grandchildren who are about the same age. The most striking anomaly is his son Kaden, being significantly taller than our niece Shelby, who is almost a year older. Then Randy said, "Madelyn seems to be holding her own against Jack, though," referring to his son who is just 6 weeks older than our Madelyn. "But Jack has definitely out-crapped her today!"

The apparent introduction of poo as an acceptable dinner topic prompted my brother and his wife to begin discussing their recent experience potty training their youngest son. Their graphic account of the difficulties helping him learn to go Number Two on the toilet certainly did not ruin Thanksgiving dinner, but it was just enough to make me slow down my gluttonous shoveling for a few queasy moments.

A couple of hours later, we finally got our under-the-weather and cranky daughter to eat some dinner. While they were playing with some of the other cousins, I heard Gary say to her, "See how much happier you are now that you've had some dinner and taken a poop?"

Happy Thanksgiving!

Break away from drab Thanksgiving fare

This week we finally get to celebrate one of my favorite holidays: Thanksgiving. Why do I love it so much? First, because I am a fanatic about delicious food, and there are certain dishes that we, as a culture, typically reserve for consumption only at the Thanksgiving feast (cranberry sauce and candied yams, I'm looking at you). Also, Thanksgiving was one of the holidays that as a child we spent gathered with all my cousins and aunts and uncles. I have many pleasant memories of those holidays with our close family. Another reason I love Thanksgiving is that I love the opportunity to intentionally tune in to all of the bits and pieces of life that we should be so incredibly grateful for. Lastly, Thanksgiving officially marks the beginning of "The Holiday Season," and I love this whole time of year: the weather, the carols, the shopping, the family traditions, the decorations...it's all great.

I know Thanksgiving isn't for a few more days, but I wanted to post the recipes I plan to contribute to our family's feast this week. Perhaps by getting them out there early, I might help someone struggling to decide what to make. There are some definite Thanksgiving standards that ought not be messed with: the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy are the staples that I wouldn't dream of altering. I do feel that the vegetable and dessert dishes offer some room for experimentation, however.

Personally, I'm not really interested in wasting precious stomach space on vegetables at Thanksgiving. But it's probably a good idea to have them available. I happen to have a giant pumpkin that we never got around to carving at Halloween, and found what looks to be a very delicious recipe for pumpkin soup. So my veggie dish isn't green, but fits the harvesty mood of Thanksgiving, and goes in its very own receptacle (a bowl) so no valuable plate real estate is wasted.

Cream of Spiced Pumpkin Soup

A variation of a recipe I found on recipezaar.com
15 servings/55 minutes

1 onion
1 clove garlic
4 T butter
2 ¼ pounds pumpkin flesh, peeled and diced
¼ tsp sugar
¼ tsp nutmeg
1 tsp curry powder
1 bay leaf
4 cups chicken broth
1 ¾ cups milk
¾ cup cream

(This is SOUP, so all ingredients may be adjusted to suit your tastes/preferences)

1. Saute onion and garlic in butter until soft
2. Add pumpkin, sugar, nutmeg, and curry
3. Add stock and bay leaf
4. Simmer for 30 minutes
5. Puree in blender with milk
6. Season to taste and stir in cream as desired

Now, Pumpkin pie is definitely a Thanksgiving standard, but have you ever been to a Holiday feast where 3 or 4 people each brought one? I don't hate pumpkin pie, but haven't been exposed to much variation on the end result. So an overabundance of one dessert in my mind equates to deficiency of other options. (There is no rule against having chocolate at Thanksgiving, you know!) It's really awkward when someone's whole pumpkin pie is left untouched. Usually the embarrassing store-bought one. I would do a chocoloate dessert, but I have been wanting to try this recipe, and with our smaller group this year, we shouldn't have the copious pumpkin pie dilemma. So I'm going to bring a fun twist on the pumpkin-dessert theme:

Pumpkin Cream Sandwiches

Clipped from my trial issue of Real Simple magazine last fall

3 T butter, room temperature
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup canned pumpkin puree
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 large egg
1 cup flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp pumpkin pie spice (crap, I have to buy this!)
1/4 tsp salt
2/3 cup cream cheese
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup confectioner's sugar

HEAT oven to 375 degrees (I love it when recipes remind you to do this first, because I always forget)

BEAT the butter, brown sugar, and granulated sugar until smooth. Add the pumpkin, vanilla, and egg and beat until combined.

COMBINE hte flour, baking powder, baking soda, pumpkin pie spice, and salt in a medium bowl. Slowly add the flour mixture to the sugar and butter and beat on medium-ow speed until fully incorporated.

SPOON heaping tablespoons of the mixture 2 inches apart onto parchment- or foil-lined baking sheets. Bake until puffed and cooked through, about 10 minutes. Let cool for 5 minutes.

CLEAN the mixer, then, as the cookies bake, beat the cream cheese, heavy cream, and confectioner's sugar until smooth and spreadable.

SPREAD the flat side of half the cooled cookies with the cream mixture. Top with the remaining cookies.


If there is enough of my fresh pumpkin left from the soup, perhaps I'll try using it in the cookies instead of the canned stuff.

Mmmm. I don't know about you, but my tastebuds are ready for it to be Thursday. It's my first time making both of these recipes, so I hope they turn out okay. If not, I'll be the one bringing the embarrassing store-bought pie! (If the soup fails, I'm sure no one will miss it.)

Flashback Friday: Scantily clad teens in distress

Last week I told you a story from Girls' Camp 1997. Today I'll be exposing a tale from another quintessential Mormon teen experience during the very same summer.

Between our sophomore and junior years of high school, my cousin Rachel and I took part in a program called Especially for Youth, or EFY. The session we attended was hosted at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. The premise is similar to Girls' Camp, chock-a-block full of spiritually uplifting activities and wholesome camaraderie, except EFY attendees typically reside in college dormitories instead of cabins or tents. The most fundamental difference between the two events is that while one would never consider attending Girls' Camp intending to meet cute boys, that is the primary motivation of a teen heading across state lines to EFY.

Possibly due to the logistics of flight schedules, or possibly because our parents couldn't wait any longer to be rid of us, Rachel and I arrived on campus a day early. For a couple of moderately rebellious nearly-16-year-olds, the freedom was exhilarating. The campus was deserted, as it was summer term. Our parental release forms stated that there would be "minimal supervision in the housing area" for early arrivers. Awesome. We hit the local convenience store to stock up on necessities such as Cheese-Whiz and Twizzlers, and decided that we also couldn't survive the week without a couple of ringing toy cell phones filled with gumballs. This was back before children had their own cell phones, so they undoubtedly held the mystique of novelty.

My embarrassing scrapbook says that we stayed up until 3 a.m. “decorating” our dorm room. Corresponding photos indicate that the decorations consisted of collages of our high school friends and ROXY magazine ads, a Simpsons poster, and copious hand-written signs Scotch-taped to the painted cinderblock walls. The signs are barely legible in the small photos, but I can make out the words “Top Ten” on several, presumably homage to David Letterman, and I speculate that the rest are Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey.

We opened our plastic phones and smacked away on the neon spheres of gum within. For some reason I felt that the sticker representing my phone’s buttons and screens was impeding my ability to fully enjoy it. This sticker was a stubborn one, so I attempted washing it off in the dorm room sink. The effort was minimally successful.

At some point in the wee hours of the morning, in what can only be explained as an attempt to increase our defiance quotient, we put on our bikinis. Our motivation for doing so is one piece of this memory tapestry that made no lasting imprint.

The teenage gaiety carried on: comparing photos of our boyfriends and discussing which swear words were cool and which were just going "too far.” Then all of a sudden, my imitation cell phone, previously drying peacefully near the sink, started ringing. And ringing. The tinny, electronic tune kept repeating over and over again. We jumped up and started pushing all the buttons, pleading with it to shut up. It soon became evident that there would be no stopping the foul beast. A couple of minutes passed, with the irritating song playing again and again. At last we couldn’t take it anymore.

Rachel snatched the miserable piece of black plastic from the carpet where it was last stomped upon, threw open our door, ran into the hall, and hurled it down the hall against the opposing cement wall. With a loud crack, the horrid, whiny refrain ceased, and brightly colored gumballs spewed in every direction. The candy-fiend in me instinctually sprung into action, sprawling across the floor to retrieve the errant bits of gum.

Suddenly, and at the very same instant, my cousin and I froze in the hallway. Turning toward our room we saw the heavy, automatically locking door slowly swinging shut, ready to seal our fate: having to wander the religious-school campus in bikinis, shoeless, searching for someone who could let us back inside. Powered by fear and adrenaline, I catapulted my half-naked body from its position scooping up cheap candy on the floor toward the quickly narrowing gap between the door and its critical latching point.

Like something out of an epic adventure movie, my hand slipped in and caught the door a mere fraction of a second before it would have been too late. Rachel and I slunk back inside our well-adorned quarters, laughing hysterically at our reckless situation. But the gravity of what nearly occurred quickly sank in. A couple of teens wandering BYU campus in the middle of the night wearing naught but bikinis would surely have warranted a very awkward phone call to our parents.

And just because it's fun to embarrass my friends on the internet:

Bridget, Julee, Kristen, and Rachel at EFY 1997