The rule: Every three years all the members of the Andersen clan will gather for a family picture and family reunion.

The plan: Meet in Utah for pictures, then drive to California for a magical Disneyland adventure.

Current status: Trekking with family, caravan style, to the happiest place on Earth.

The result: Me wallowing on the backseat of Grandmother's Terrain, desperately attempting to hold down the three crackers and half a can of black cherry fresca which together represent the entirety of my substance consumption for the day.

Don't worry. I've got a barf bag.

I am a Champion!

Why am I a champion?

1. I got all my numbers (cholesterol, glucose, all that fun stuff) and I'm about as healthy as they come. (My pulse was a little higher than usual at 56, but that's what happens when you prick my finger. I freak out and things like blood pressure and heart rate go up.)
2. Yesterday's step count: 10342. Yup, I did it. Not an over-achiever, but a champion for sure.
3. I'm getting a flu shot in a little bit, even though I already got my finger pricked. Two pricks in one day is serious business when a single prick threatens pass out.

It's alright. You don't have to tell me I'm a champion. I already did.

Too Skinny To Run

No really, I was. Not that it was really a skinniness problem. It was more of a modesty problem. Turns out when you run in pants that are too big for you, they fall down.

I remedied the situation last night. My niece and I went shopping and she helped me pick out some clearance shorts from TJ Maxx (cause really, I've got no reason to pay for overpriced exercise clothes). She slobbered on the hangers of the ones she liked. The good news is I can go running again. The bad news is I can go running again.

I also acquired a pedometer last night. I think this is the fourth pedometer I've owned in the past six years.

Pedometer 1: Purchased for a college health class. I had to record my steps for two weeks. Steps generally ranged from 6,000 to 17,000 (with no obvious reason why I got so few one day and so many the next day since both days I was running all over campus). I was wearing it one day, after the assignment was completed, and then I wasn't anymore. I believe it fell into the couple of inches of snow covering the ground. I didn't try to find it. On a scale from 1 to Not Accurate this pedometer fell somewhere in the middle.

Pedometer 2: Purchased a couple years after pedometer 1. I was going to be healthy. This pedometer was slightly more accurate than the first one. I wore it for a little while. I don't know what happened to it.

Pedometer 3: Free from BYU. We gave pedometers to the students that were assisting with our international conference. The student with the most steps over the course of the 4-day conference won a prize. I didn't wear mine. I was too busy managing a conference. However, experiments revealed I wasn't missing out on much since this pedometer is a solid Not Accurate.

Pedometer 4: Purchased yesterday. On a scale from 1 to Not Accurate it's pretty accurate. Also, it is special so I can clip it anywhere and it still keeps track of my steps. This is important for days when I wear a dress.

The recommended number of steps a day is 10,000, or 70,000 a week. I'm going for 12,000 a day cause I'm just like that. The day is more than half over and I just topped 2,000. Office jobs. They sure kill your step count.

At least I'm consistent in being behind my goal counts. Steps, words—I treat them all the same.

NaNoWriMo
words I've written: 2505
words I should have written: 16,000

I made this last night.

See?

Hers may have looked better. But it sure didn't taste any better. That thing was delicious. I've got enough of the innards left to do another one tonight. I think this time I'll leave the sauce out and put in extra cheese, then have the sauce on top. Yumm.

In other news, I have decided on a story for NaNoWriMo.

Story: check!
Word count: 0

I better get started quick. Otherwise I am sure I'll start running around in story circles again.

From My Life

I'm signed up to begin my masters degree in instructional design sometime soon here. It's a two-year program. I'm hoping to get it done in one.

I've begun stopping at my local Harmon's each night before work to make myself a cute, little salad with all my favorite salad things so I can eat it for lunch the next day. It's usually about three dollars (except when I want a big one) and is always delicious.

I'm taking art lessons. I've gone to four so far. I'm as bad as I always knew I was.

I've decided to become the stir-fry queen, with powers to whip up a stir fry like nobody's business. I've made two so far, with ingredients like fish sauce and sesame oil and lots of garlic. No bottled sauces or prepped vegies for me. They are pretty much fabulous.

This place gives a wicked awesome workout. I was sore enough that I wanted to cry every time I sneezed for about five days. I had a cold. The first class is free (the only one I've been to).

I finally finished The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. This Thanksgiving marks two years since I started reading it. Yes, it was that hard for me to get through. I enjoyed his writing; it was the story I struggled with. (Did you know I've always had a thing for Hamlet? A passionate dislike kind of thing?)

I'm signed up for NaNoWriMo. It's day two and I don't have any idea what I'm going to write.

Banana cake is delicious with burnt butter cream cheese frosting and looks rather elegant in layers with large frosted rosettes in a ring around the top. Lemon cake should be eaten more often.

I'm considering taking belly-dancing lessons. Fabulous, sexy abs guaranteed.

My sister, mother, and I sewed the awesomest halloween costumes ever. No lie.

I'm spending a lovely week in Paris near the beginning of next year sometime. Non-stop flight all the way. If only I could afford first class.

I am a season subscriber to the Utah Symphony. I've heard them play both Beethoven's ninth symphony and eighth symphony. This weekend is symphony no. 7. I'm stoked.

I need to find some sort of class for writing personal essays.

I have decorated my cubicle at work with a discount shower curtain from T.J. Maxx. A million times more fabulous than those fuzzy, gray walls (affectionately know as Luther) and cheap enough that I can switch it out as often as I want.

My Morning

I'm staying in Park City this week with my family. Park City is slightly closer to work than home is. I showered last night after a fabulous dip in the pool. That, combined with the shorter drive, meant I didn't have to get out of bed until about the time I usually leave for work.

The moon was high and nearly full, there were beautiful tufts of clouds skidding across the sky, and the pinks and the blues highlighted the lines of the mountains. It was gorgeous.

I didn't grab breakfast before I left (when do I ever, really?) and didn't have much to eat at the office. I decided to go with applesauce and protein water. Not the best breakfast, but enough of something to get me through the morning. I was in the middle of my ritualistic protein water dance when the top of my water bottle popped off, dousing me and the carpet in pink. I'm super glad it hit me and missed dear friend Camilla.

The splash pattern on my light gray skirt was rather fantastic, but I didn't want to wear it all day. And that's how I ended up in the bathroom in the basement of our building standing on my tiptoes next to the counter so I could get the entire front of my skirt in the sink.

And while I was standing there, with the front of my skirt in the sink, I couldn't help hoping just the tiniest bit that somebody with a fabulous sense of humor would walk in.

The 500 top-selling paperbacks at Barnes & Noble are 50%!

What's that? I should probably put that money in savings instead of purchasing more books that I don't have the shelf space for?

. . .

Investments! It's all about making the right investment decisions for you, right?

Queen Creek Olive Mill

Who knew there was an olive grove in Arizona? Who knew!?

I am obsessed. I want to be there. I want to 'stroll the olive grove' and 'tour the mill.' I want to taste all the fabulousness that an olive grove in Arizona has to offer. I want to, at the very least, join the Olive Oil of the Month Club. (Do you think there is any way I could get a schedule and not be a member the months they are sending out olives? Bleh.)

I will be visiting Queen Creek Olive Mill. I don't know when, I don't know how, but it's gonna happen.

The Russian

Kelly-belly has recently acquired a Russian. Judging by the ring on her finger and the dress hanging in her closet, I think he's going to stick around for a while.

I'm all in support. They are good for each other. And there's no question Kelly-belly is ready. I told her so myself just the other day. It went something like this.

Kelly-belly: The tip of my nose is dry from rubbing against my Russian's scruff. I have been putting lotion on just the tip of my nose all day. I look like a crazy person
Pants: You are a crazy person
Kelly-belly: It is a good thing I look it so people know what they are getting themselves into
Pants: So true. Otherwise they might think you are a cute, normal, happy person when really you're just crazy
Kelly-belly: This is a wonderful development. Good thing I have my Russian to dry out my nose
Pants: You ought to let him know that you've discovered why he is useful to you
Kelly-belly: That is a good idea! Men have very few useful moments in their lives, we gotta make sure to recognize the times when it happens
Pants: Precisely. You are totally ready for this marriage thing

Book 17

Dearest Cherilee,

Thank you, thank you, thank you for this book. How did you know I've been looking at it since it first hit B&N's New Releases shelf. (Not gonna lie, I think I was mostly attracted by the fabulous cover. How could I not be? Look at those beautiful books!) The story was fabulous. While I noticed confused by some parts of the story, I did not see the end coming. I will definitely be reading this one again. And recommending it to all my book-loving friends. Book-loving friends, consider it recommended. Thanks again, Cherilee. Do you have any idea how fabulous you are?

Love always,

Meg

Sundays

I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Sundays.

 Sometimes I've wondered what it is that I like about Sundays so much.

 Is it all the time I get to spend with my family?

Is it the long, leisurely walks?

\

Is it Sunday afternoon naps?

Whatever it is, I love me some Sundays.

Book 16

Loved. I love each book by Sarah Addison Allen more than the last. I can't wait to read this one. I find her writing whimsical but very real. And her books are full of the everyday magic I see all around me.

Lindsay B.

Lindsay B. is one of my favorite's on my list of fabulous people. She has this amazingly awesome hair, is always up for an adventure, and likes to try things just for the heck of it. She helps me keep a fresh perspective on life.

Lindsay B. recently made a list about some of the things she is looking forward to in August. I was jealous. I wanted a list, too. So . . . I made one.

Ta-da! My August list:

• The end of summer smell
• Park City
• Fresh picked fruit from my favorite farmer's stand
• New boots (cause every girl deserves a new pair of boots)
• My hike to the top of Timp

Countdown to Awesomeness

I am an expert at the art of countdown. I count down to everything: the beginning of a semester, the end of a semester, Mondays, my morning alarm.

Most of the time I can't help myself. Most of the time, I see a calendar or a clock or some other countdown device and my brain does the calculations and then I just know and I can't help but countdown. But sometimes I count down on purpose.

I have begun a new countdown--a countdown to awesomeness.

I am the proud owner of a paper chain with 25 links. Each link is a step in my countdown. Each step will take time, effort, dedication, and discipline. Sounds rather disgusting, doesn't it?

My deadline is October 21. It's gonna be hard. I'm probably going to hate my life at least a little pretty much every day between now and then. But I'm gonna do it.

Don't get in the way of me and my awesome.

My Happiness Plan

I've been struggling. With Happiness. It is strange. I used to have a fabulous relationship with Happiness. We used to hold hands and skip through the rain and slide down moonbeams into pots of marshmallows and chocolate chips.

Lately, it seems like I don't know Happiness at all. It seems that Happiness never has time for me anymore. I've considered couple's therapy, but Happiness is being stubborn. Apparently Happiness is enjoying its new bout of elusiveness.

That was cruel. I believe, deep down inside, Happiness is as sad about our months-long struggle as I am.

And that is why the time has come. I need a Happiness Plan.

Ready, set, Happiness!

Sharing the Apple Love

I received this email from a coworker today:

RE: Fruit?

I require it. Desperately. I'll buy some from you at a premium price if you happen to have any. In order of preference: pear; grapes; apple; something else. My camembert and crackers are crying out.

Unfortunately (for him, not so much for me), I had already eaten my grapes for lunch. However, I did have an extra apple hanging around. As all apple lovers know, the only thing better than eating a fabulously delicious apple is sharing the apple love with somebody else.

My Date with the Drugged-up Disaster

Ever tried internet dating? Me neither. Well, I mean, I didn't mean to try internet dating. It just sort of happened.

It all began on a slow Thursday afternoon. You have to watch those Thursday afternoons. They're wily, little boogers. It went like this.

Fabulous Friend: I found a man for you.
Me: I'm boycotting men.
Fabulous Friend: [link to the man she found for me]

I wasn't particularly interested in this supposed man my Fabulous Friend had found for me, but I decided to take a look at the link. Turns out the man my Fabulous Friend had in mind for me has a thing for girls with green eyes and auburn hair. He instructed all girls with said qualities to email him immediately.

Green Eyes - check
Auburn hair -  . . . check?

I decided to send him an email. Not that I wanted anything to do with this random internet stranger. I was boycotting men after all. But I needed to determine if I fit into the category of green-eyed, auburn-haired ladies and thus could have the satisfaction of not emailing him when I was instructed to. I wrote a quick email and attached the reference letter My Fabulous Friend was kind enough to write for me.

Dear RIS,

My fabulous friend sent me a link not long ago. In it was a question about physical traits. There were several answers but the only one of any importance at this time is yours. The link: http://theboard.byu.edu/questions/63686/. In case you wish to refresh your memory.

In it, you said I was to e-mail you immediately if I had auburn hair and green eyes. Being the amazingly obedient person that I am, I have sent you this e-mail.

There is a slight snag. I have been told before that my hair is auburn, but I believe that assessment of my hair color depends entirely on the individual. Thus, I was unsure of how to proceed. In the eyes of some I have auburn hair. In the eyes of others, it is simply brown. What, in your opinion, is auburn hair?

My fabulous friend was kind enough to write a reference letter. You will find it included below.

Thank you for taking the time to answer my question. It will be a great help.

Green Eyes


Dear Random Internet Stranger,

My friend has green eyes and auburn hair and is very keen herself. BTW she also has very soft skin. Not that I've tested it out. I will leave that to you.

Sincerely,

Another keen girl, who unfortunately does not have auburn hair or green eyes


And thus began . . . something.

My hair doesn't qualify as auburn, but this random internet stranger is an equal-opportunity dater and was a-okay with hair that might be more brown than auburn. After a few more emails and a couple of conversations, RIS and I decided to meet for ice cream.

The weekend before we had arranged to meet, my random internet stranger was playing with fire. And everybody knows that when you play with fire you get burned. My random, internet stranger spent a couple of very long days in the burn unit at the hospital. I, for some crazy reason, thought this would be reason enough to cancel. Silly me. The date was set and it wasn't changing. In the words of my random internet stranger, "This is happening."

Oh. Well, okay then. He, having felt the fires wrath, was in no state to drive so I picked him up. First impression? Bandages. Lots and lots of bandages. Thick ones. Being the snazzy man that he is, he changed the bandages before I picked him up so they were white and fluffy instead of yellowy and oozy.

Did I mention we couldn't stop moving? Apparently once he stopped he couldn't start again.

Have you tried to get to know someone in less than twenty minutes when they are in severe amounts of pain and are so focused on continuing in a forward motion that you can't even get a good look at their dimples? Try it sometime. It's fun.

And that is how I went on a very short, very . . . umm, yeah . . .

Strawberry Cake

I've been trying to get Ma to join a CSA for years. No exaggeration. We love fresh produce and go through a lot of it. We also enjoy trying new things and finding new recipes. It seemed like a great idea. Fresh produce for less, all of it locally grown and picked just for you at the perfect time. What about this isn't a good idea?

Her answer: "No."

Not even an "I'll think about it," or an "That might be fun, but not right now."

After years of fruitless badgering and enthusiastic "Hey, won't this be a good idea!"'s, I couldn't take it anymore. I gave up. I resigned myself to not joining a CSA till I was grown enough to do it on my own (not that I couldn't now--it's just very likely that the position I am in life right now, were I to join a CSA on my own, much of the food I got would go bad before I got a chance to eat it).

Ma's dear friend Yinda has been exploring the different options you can get with a CSA for several years now. Recently, she switched to getting her produce through Bountiful Baskets. You sign up at the beginning of the week (instead of signing up for a season or a year with a CSA), and pick up your bountiful basket at the pick-up location of your choice on the weekend.

It was only a couple of Mondays ago that I wandered downstairs to find Ma and dear friend Yinda hunched over the computer discussing the pros and cons of sticking with the regular basket or getting the add-on basket.

I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. Here was my Ma, getting herself a bountiful basket. I told her I found her behavior somewhat traitorous.


Her response: "I don't remember talking with you about this."

Hm.

I loved our bountiful basket. So many delicious things. We still haven't used it all and it's been two weeks. I just managed to use up the five pounds of strawberries we got. I made this. And it was even more delicious than it looks. I definitely recommend.

Yay for bountiful baskets!

Books 13-15

 Like. I'm not into war books, but I enjoyed this one.

 Okay. A little strange. Points for creativity. This author's style is not one that I particularly enjoy. For me, there was no emotional connection to the characters.

Not my fave.

Cinnamon Apple Crepes

This.

This was going to be a fabulous post on the cinnamon apple crepes I made for breakfast the other day, with delicious cinnamony apples baked to the perfect doneness and vanilla cream cheese filling and the caramel syrup I made to go over the filled brown sugar crepes. It was gonna be good. Probably you would have laughed at the witty commentary, cried at the sad story of the girl in love with food who doesn't like traditional breakfast foods, and left with a new sense of self and a better perspective on life.

I was typing out the recipe for the brown sugar crepes, the last thing I had to do before it was finished.

And then . . . it disappeared.


The end.

Girls' Night

Last night was a girls' night. Me, my mother, and my sister, Kelly-belly, hung out. We didn't do anything epic: delicious food, funny movie, hanging on the couch. But there is something so fabulous about doing nothing with the people that make you you. I wouldn't trade those times for anything.

Thanks Ma. Thanks Kelly-belly. You guys are a significant part of my everything.

Book 12

Interesting read. I saw a lot of my own high school experience and the things I thought about it in this book. Her explanations for why things are they way they are made sense. Sad, though. Sad that is the way it is for so many people. They deserve better than this. All of them deserve better than this, from the populars to the outcasts.

I told my mother today that ballet has done one thing for me: proven beyond a doubt that I have absolutely no balance.

Her response: Yeah, I know.

Oh you do, do you? Thanks, mother dear, for your kind words and loving encouragement.

Ballet

Today is Wednesday. That means yesterday was Tuesday. Do you know what Tuesday means? Ballet. And hobbling. But the hobbling isn't important now. just the ballet.

No, I am not a ballerina. Ballet and I had a brief, slightly painful relationship when I was young. Very young. As in we skipped around the gym in a big circle young. Yup, call me ballerina.

I have no talent whatsoever. I'm not even sure of my ability to touch my toes. Oh, and I definitely don't have the body shape or weight to be a ballet person. But I'm doing it.

Ballet is always very exciting. It exposes me to things I never dreamed I could do. For example, has your foot ever managed to look like a head of cauliflower? It's remarkable the resemblance between my ballet foot and a head of cauliflower. I've taken to calling it cauliflower foot.

Try this. Point your toes as hard as you can. Harder. Harder! Feel the cramp? Now, continue to try to point your foot while it is cramping. Voila! Cauliflower foot.

You know something else interesting about ballet? Not only does it induce cauliflower foot in the uninitiated, it also involves a lot of straddles and split doing, both on the ground and in the air. Nope, not joking. Guess how close I can get to the straddles and the splits. Okay, you caught me. I'm not close at all. So, while everyone else in the class is almost down flat, completely spread apart, I'm having trouble holding myself up because I'm almost not close enough to the ground to be able to hold myself up, but I know if I stop holding myself up something somewhere that should not be torn will be torn.

My favorite part of the one hour class is unquestionably the last 7 minutes when my instructor stands up and claps her hands and says it is time to do some jumping to get our heart rates up. Oh dear. If it is time to get my heart rate up then what was it that my heart was doing for the last 53 minutes? Because if it wasn't up I don't want to get it up. Ever.

18

It came to my attention some time ago (think the beginning of February) that one item on my 24/24 list wasn't going to work because I had already done it. When I first finished my 24/24 list in January, item number 18 read

Go to my first non-classical music concert.

But I've already done it. My first non-classical music concert was last July. I went to the Pulaski County fair with my dear friends Sandy and Miriam and we saw . . . somebody. A country music group. There were a couple of their songs that I really liked. Hmm, I wonder who that was. Not important. What is important is that I have done it. You can't go to your first non-classical music concert twice.

This is the new number 18.

Put together a family cookbook with all our favorite recipes.

Has been for several months actually. And, like my other 24/24 goals, I haven't made any progress. At all.

Six months is enough time to do all the things I wasn't even sure I could get done in a year, right?

Books 6-11

Don't worry, I am fully aware that I am months behind. Not gonna lie, I have never done so little reading in my life. I am heartily ashamed.

The day the neon-colored snowflakes come down from the windows is unquestionably one of the most tragic days of the year.

Maybe you're one of those people that believe brightly colored, amateur paper snowflakes only belong on the windows of those with small children and that such things should be removed from sight as soon as it can be done justifiably, i.e., as soon as the holiday season is over.

I don't live in a house with small children. The middle of May is almost too soon to take down the snowflakes. And I believe there is a nearly untapped well of happiness full of things like paper snowflakes.


It's been a couple of weeks since ours came down and I miss them.

Bored Hungry

I eat when I'm bored. I've done it for years. Got nothing better to do? Why not eat something delicious. Usually I make the delicious thing first and then eat it, but if I don't have time to make something delicious, just eating something delicious will do just fine.

Most of the time this isn't a problem. I happen to suffer from chronic over-scheduling. I can't help myself. You give me 24 hours a day, I'll pack it with enough stuff to take at least 28. It's what I do. Occasionally I'll end up with more time than I thought I would have, but I rarely spend my extra time sitting around being bored. Over-scheduling yourself like I do tends to put you behind on, well, just about everything. A little bit of extra time? It turns out to not be extra at all because I spend it getting to something I had meant to get to a while ago. Or I spend it doing the things that I love doing but don't leave much time for

There are, however, a couple of occasions when boredom is expected:

1.  I don't want to do what I need to do, but I won't let myself do any of the things that I would like to do because I really need to do what I need to do, so I end up doing nothing. Yay for eating!
2.  I'm required to be doing something or to be somewhere, but there isn't much there for me to do so I'm stuck with nothing to do really but I have to stay there anyway. (Think public school.) Yay for eating!

Recently at work there hasn't always been quite enough work to keep us all busy.

me at work = me being bored
me being bored = me being hungry

But not real hungry; just bored hungry. Bad news, folks. Bad news.

Today was a boring day. I spent most of it wanting to snack. Love snacking. But I resisted the urge. I did some research instead. I found a handy, dandy list of things to do instead of eating. Several of them involved being active, but there were plenty that didn't. Needless to say, my favorite ones didn't.

Here are some of the gems:
•  Scream!
•  Listen to your inner conversations
•  Write in your awesomeness journal
•  Send a birthday card
•  Plan a romantic encounter

If you start receiving random birthday cards not on your birthday, are worrying about my sanity because I am either screaming my head of or concentrating very hard on something that nobody seems to be able to hear, or catch me making eyes at various, random strangers, everything is fine. I'm just busy working through my bored hunger.

PS Does anyone know where I might acquire an awesomeness journal? This is definitely something I want in on.

Five Sure Signs that Something's Up

1.  My room looks like a disaster area. (No really, it gets that bad.)
2.  I stop pretending to be the kind of girl that wears make-up.
3.  Unnecessary wardrobe purchases increase significantly.
4.  Spacing out becomes the way I live my life.
5.  There's no time for me kind of things, like reading books and writing in my journal or on my blog.

Bet you wanna know what's been up, huh? Life. You know how it just gets ya when you're not expecting it? Consider me got.

But don't you worry. I got life back. Obviously. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be here.

Take that life.

22

Learn how to fly down the mountain on one fat stick or two thin sticks.

Done and done.

No, really. I can do it now. Actually, I could do it before. Turns out flying down the mountain isn't the problem. It's the stopping that really takes some getting used to. And no, I have not gotten used to it, as my bruised tailbone can testify. But don't you worry. Come next season I will be flying down the mountain like a champ. . . . And stopping a little less like a champ.


Two done. Twenty-two more to go.

There is something so peaceful about waking up on a snowy morning.

Don't get me wrong. I have been longing for blue skies and sunny weather as much as anyone. Probably more than many. I spent last summer in Virginia, which basically equates to no summer.

Virginia summer = boiled people
Utah summer = baked people

What is a summer without being baked? Not really a summer at all.

But it doesn't matter what time of year it is, what the weather has been like, or what the weather is expected to be. You will never find me unhappy to wake up to find the clouds low and grey and the trees frosted in white.

Snowy mornings resonate with something deep inside, something I forget until I wake up to a quiet world covered in snow and find it there inside of me. It is the very me-est part of me.

It is easy to get a little off balance with this crazy life pushing and tugging and swirling me around in whirlwind of fabulousness.

All I need is a snowy morning.

It brings me back to me.

How To Change Your Life Forever

Raspberry Bread Pudding

• 1 1/2 loaves white bread, aged

Tear bread into 1 1/2 inch chunks. Set aside in large bowl.

• 1 quart half & half
• 3 cups sugar
• 1 egg, lightly beaten
• 1 tsp vanilla

In a medium bowl, whisk together the half & half, sugar, egg, and vanilla. Continue stirring until sugar is dissolved.

Pour half & half mixture over bread. Stir gently to coat all bread chunks. Let stand for half an hour stirring every 5 minutes.

• 5 cups raspberries
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup apple juice

In a medium mixing bowl (I rinse out and use the same bowl from the last conglomeration), gently stir together the raspberries, sugar, and apple juice until the sugar is dissolved.

Fill a 9x13 baking dish half full with the bread mixture. Spread the raspberry deliciousness over the bread. Top with the rest of the bread mixture.

Bake 40 minutes in a 375° oven.

Vanilla Cream Sauce

• 1 1/3 cups butter
• 5 tbsp flour

Melt butter in medium saucepan. Stir in flour. Cook over low heat until it starts to smell a little nutty. Do not cook long enough for butter to brown.

• ½ salt
• 3 cups heavy cream
• 2/3 cups sugar

Add salt, cream, and sugar. Stir continually until mixture thickens to a nice saucy thickness. (This is personal preference. Some people like their sauce thin and runny. I like my sauce thick enough that it stays where I put it.) Remove sauce from heat.

• 2 tsp vanilla

Stir in vanilla.

Books 3-5

2 – 5/200 OR 1/40 complete

Is there anything better than a biscuit?

Nope. Definitely not.

Which is why I will be doing this in the coming weeks.

This is gonna be good.

I just discovered that if I walk to the break room at work 41.7 times a day, taking the long route, I will get in the recommended 10,000 steps a day. Do you think anyone will notice if I walk to the break room every 11.5 minutes?

Book 2

Love.

Las Vegas

Yesterday was Martin Luther King Day. Three-day weekend = I’m outta here! I spent my mini vacation in Las Vegas, basking in the gorgeous, sunny mid-60s weather. My aunt and uncle were kind enough to offer me and my sister a place to lay our weary heads at night. Lucky for us cause all that sunny weather, amazing shopping, and awesome food is enough to tire out any girl.

My aunt and uncle, along with a place to rest our weary heads, are also excellent providers of lots of laughter, lots of thinking, and lots of conversationaling—three things that are tragically difficult to find. Thanks Aunt and Uncle.

I also had an opportunity to begin working on my 24/24 list.

10 Kelly and I started the drive to Vegas Friday after work, at about 3:31 pm. The sunset was amazing in a very nontraditional sunset kind of way. The colors are indescribable. If you think of a sunset I am pretty sure these colors wouldn’t come to mind. It was the prettiest sunset I have seen in a long time.  It reminded me of all the things that were perfect  in this world. And then I wasn’t thinking at all. But . . . is it possible to “visit” a sunset? 

13 I may have fulfilled my requirement to do something disgustingly touristy.  Kelly and I took Tommy (my delightful GPS device) to Vegas with us. He struggled a bit when it came to the spaghetti bowl.  Don’t worry, we only got off the freeway to get right back on, per Tommy’s instructions, four or five times. (And then we put him away. I was better at navigating without him.) I am not sure if I am going to count it. It is not what I had in mind, but what reason is there for discriminating against something that was not in my mind?

21 I started setting out my pennies! Good thing cause I have so far to go. I was disappointed in the lack of fountains I found. There were a couple, but they weren’t spraying. I need to improve my fountain sleuthing skills.

First penny strategically placed to bring good luck. I am happy to report that when I visited the spot four days later (the gas station was the first and last place we stopped), my penny was gone.

Four more pennies, placed to bring good luck. Don't worry, I just left the pennies, not the bags of wonderful stuff.

Verdict:

13 – not complete

10 – not begun

21 – 1% complete

PS Is anyone else disturbed that I didn't think about Martin Luther King Jr. once over the weekend? I didn't think about him, I didn't think about what he fought for, and I didn't think about how he changed our nation. Who am I?

Happy birthday, Grandpa Tillery. I send all of my love to you. I wish I could have known you in this life, but some things are worth waiting for, and knowing you definitely qualifies. Please give Granny a hug and a kiss from me and I will eat a slaw dog for you.

Love always and forever,
Meg

friday - jubilate
saturday - charisma
sunday - ossify
monday - proctrastinate
tuesday - gloaming

I find it really depressing when I know all of merriam-webster's words of the day.

Book 1

Pegasus
Robin McKinley

I enjoy Robin McKinley, but her books are always a hit or miss for me. I really love a lot of her books, but others I wouldn't mind never reading again. This falls into the latter category. Though it was interesting and I did enjoy reading it. If you haven't read Robin McKinley before I would definitely recommend it, but start with The Blue Sword, Beauty, Chalice, or Sunshine. Particularly since this is only half of the story. It will be at least a year before we see the second half.

24/24

About a week before I turned 24 (a month and a little bit ago) I began working on a list of things I wanted to do while I was 24. Four weeks later, I made myself focus on my list and have now finally finished it.

Drumroll please . . .

The list!

1. Read Harry Potter 1-7 in French. And understand it.
2. Read 200 books I haven't read before. (I've got about 70 stacked by my bed. Just need to find another 130. Suggestions encouraged. )
3. Run a 5k in less than 30 minutes
4. Be able to wear all the skirts I could wear two years ago and still have but can't wear anymore cause I was exploring new shapes.
5. Read the entire Bible beginning to end, Old and New Testament.
6. Get one of my novels in good enough shape so I can start looking for an agent.
7. Take art lessons.
8. Conquer my fear of yeast breads.
9. Fall in love with something I didn't know existed.
10. Visit at least five amazing, natural places (e.g., Grand Canyon, Redwood Forest).
11. Make a jean quilt.
12. Try a food I have never eaten before.
13. Do something disgustingly touristy.
14. Have an amazing conversation with someone I don't know and will probably never see again.
15. Watch the sun rise from the top of Mount Timpanogos.
16. Build a kite from scratch and fly it.
17. Make homemade butter.
18. Fill a family cookbook with all our favorite recipes.
19. Buy a gorgeous, impractical dress that I have no reason to own let alone wear, and then wear it.
20. Acquire a complete works of Johann Sebastian Bach and listen to each piece.
21. Place 500 pennies strategically where they will either grant wishes or bring good luck.
22. Learn how to fly down the mountain on one fat stick or two thin sticks.
23. Make a three-course dinner and a dessert meant to be eaten with fingers only.
24. Go somewhere awesome I have never been before to celebrate making it to year 25.

Basically this year, er, eleven months, is going to rock!

This is how I wear earrings

NM (NOT MEG): Wow, not looking so fabulous. You sure didn't take the time to get ready this morning, did ya?

MEG: What are you talking about? Did you notice I am wearing earrings? How could you think I didn't get ready this morning?


I do not associate with anybody mean enough to actually say what NM said, but it is what I imagine all the people I don't associate with because they are meanie pants would say, and what all the nice people I associate with would say if they were meanie pants. 

I also do not recommend using earrings to try to fake people into believing you got up early enough to look decent. It doesn't work.