I get by with a little help from my friends: Nat-chan

Nat-chan sent me an adorably wrapped birthday present from Japan. Isn't she the sweetest?



All the boxes of sweets were opened and emptied within a day. Foreign chocolate, guys. I have no regrets.

I GET BY WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS

Found this at my door this morning:

Rob's Closet

A few month's ago I warned Rob that one day I would sneak into his house and try on all of his clothes. Last week, Elly and I made good on that threat.

The Not-Navajo-Tacos Event

Spoiler Alert! Everyone pees blue at the end.

For the past year, I have been drifting blissfully in the limbo known as "suspended calling". Previously, I had been asked to reach out to members of our ward by organizing massive dinners based around their cultures. Nat-chan inspired make-your-own sushi night and the Hindu Festival of Colors was followed by a (very colorful) curry feast. But when summer hit, we had so few members of the ward that we decided to conserve out budget. Then the bishop was released, a new one was called, and my calling was forgotten in the transition.

Elly and I still stalk visit our second counselor-turned-stake clerk quite a bit, usually when we should be in Relief Society, and have gotten to know our stake president in the process. And he got to know, through Brother W's praise of me, about my old calling. He grabbed the bishop, the bishop reinstated me, and my first opportunity to pull at the ward's purse strings was this Sunday.

Having heard wonderful things about Dana's frybread, I decided to commandeer Break the Fast and hold a Navajo Taco feast. She was kind enough to not hate me for asking her less than a week before the event and agreed. Having been to a few BtFs where under 20 people showed up, I planned to make enough for a generous guess of 40 people. A nice, easy first meal where people could come and get a taste of how awesome our dinners will be.

Yeah.

No.

The actual BtF committee scheduled the meal, for very good reasons that I fully support, for a few hours earlier than I expected. A quick check with Dana before Relief Society revealed that she had planned for later too, so the dough wasn't made. She left early to throw a batch together while I went in search of a cooler. Naturally, it was missing (it showed up later with the activities committe as a drink cooler). I emptied our Christmas decorations box, lined it with tin foil, and called it good.

The next hour involved massive amounts of Crisco, two women 'flipping' and 'flapping' at mad speed, and a repeated cycle of the guys worrying about how long we were taking and us shooing them off via text, phone calls, and in person. We were almost done with our 40ish frybreads when we get the message that more people showed up than we expected.

More, in this instance, meaning "most of our ward, some significant others, and even a few parents."

So we show up with half as much frybread as we need to clapping and an arm tunnel, panicking just a little bit inside at the huge line of people. That's when Dana tells us about Smoke Signals, a movie where the Indian mother is presented with exactly the same problem. The solution?

riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip

"And there shall be frybread for all!"

...and that is the story of how we fed almost a hundred hungry college kids (and company) with less than 50 pieces of frybread.

Seriously though, Undisclosed spiked the dessert. Enjoy your urine everyone! :)

Catching up on the Awesome

In order:

1. Last Thursday, my mother called to tell me she was in town for a nursing meeting. We went to Costco where she filled me up with actual groceries (to supplement my personal collection of Lean Pockets) and convinced me to my night class to go to Salt Lake with her. We grabbed my little sister, ate massive amounts of butter crab and clams at Joe's Crab Shack, and watched the inappropriately hilarious "Just Go With It".

2. Elly and Mexules taught me to play Call of Duty on Saturday. Afterwards, we went to what we thought would be a b-boy competition but was actually one white kid bouncing around in a dark room. We went to ghetto laser tag instead (I loved the two floor arena and half hour time limit). The next day, Mexules and I were both sick and Elly followed soon after. I now sound like a frog with a nictonine addiction, which has greatly improved my ability to sing my favorite rock songs with the right amount of "one bad decision away from dying" in my tone.

3. I took my mama to the BYU v Colorado State game yesterday.

She's not Racist.... Just Sleepy

Me: Hey, Elly!

Elly (asleep): Nnn...?

Me: Read this! (tosses her the book I'm using for an assignment)

Elly (squints at the cover): There once was a girl...she was black...and she liked it because she was diverse and got all the scholarships. Amen.

Secret Plan #1: death by chocolate

Step 1: Go to your local Tucanos in celebration. A last girl's night before your best friend leaves to get married (C-Dot I am going to miss you so, so much) is a perfect occasion.

Step 2: Interrupt everyone's meals with the loud squeaking/scratching noise of your small table being rotated. Now everyone in the restaurant has noticed you. You and your partner in crime can now sit comfortably on the squishy bench side and forsake the wooden chair on the other side of the table that always seems to be in the way of every server and fellow glutton.

Step 3: Gorge. Watch the cute server make a kicked puppy face when you refuse his juicy meats. Feel slightly bad that you are being so selective in the meat you are eating. Hold out for the good stuff!

Step 4: Turn the wooden block to red/stop.

At this point (based on my experiences) one of two things will happen.

Option 1: The large group of grandpa-aged foreign guys at the table next to you will hear you and your friend debating whether to splurge on death by chocolate cake. They will then buy one and send it to your table on their way out.

Option 2 (discovered tonight): You will receive a coupon from a group of teenage boys at a nearby table. Wave to them as they leave.

Get excited about the free dessert you get. Have the cute server point out that there is probably a phone number on it. Laugh really hard and add cluelessness to the list of reasons why you are still single. Flip card over to see this:

"Call for a good time! ###-###-####"

Applaud them for using a pickup line usually reserved for the back of hooker call cards in Vegas.

Step 5: Eat cake!

July 25, 2010

Every so often, if you are very lucky, you meet a person who seems entirely in tune with your core self. Someone who has no blinders about your worth (infinite), your flaws (also infinite), and with whom every new facet of yourself is simply a new leaf of a well-loved tree. With whom there is no shame, no self-degrading, no desperate plea for attention and validation. Someone with whom you can simply be. As a certain red-headed orphan would say "bosom friends".

This is one of those people:


But this post isn't about her. It's about him:


In honor of his Herculean feat of carrying me up three flights of stairs at a dead sprint, let's call him Mex-ules.

Mexules came into our apartment's collective life as the protector. At first, it was taking over home teaching duties and thus foiling an ex-boyfriend's plan to continue stalking wooing one of our own. He then progressed to personal chef, willing stalk-ee, guy beater, couch sleeper, and occasionally, spiritual fount.

Acting in his first capacity, he came over tonight. He gave me the choice of two lessons: forgiveness or optimism. I asked for the second; he misheard and gave me the first. And of course, it turned out to connect to something fresh on my mind.

It has been one of the great struggles in my life to watch people I care about try to function without the most basic aspect of love: forgiveness. True forgiveness means that accepting the other person for all of their potential. You can neither expect them to change, as that implies conditional forgiveness, NOR can you ignore the possibility that they might, as that is damning them unjustly. Repentance is a product of their relationship with God and the stipulation of a change of heart is one that only He can demand. Of us, it is required "to forgive all Men".

I firmly believe this and so was a little jarred when Mexules pointed out that our lack of forgiveness could hinder someone else's progression. We will never be able to make someone change, but we can stop setting them up to fail.

He also pointed out that there are three people that need our forgiveness for us to progress: 1) Others 2) Ourselves 3) God".

I have been blessed with experiences that have allowed me the chance to build a solid relationship with all members of my Heavenly Family. I have been carried by Their love and been saved too completely to feel any bitterness towards Them. Through this, I have learned to love and value myself. And though it stems more from jaded-ness than perfection, I can honestly say I have very little problem forgiving others.

Why? Because stripped of everything else, we have our agency, our power to act. Every minute is an opportunity to choose your reaction. You can choose to wallow in anger against how you want things to be, and punish yourself and others when those ideals aren't met.

Or you can choose to hope: to accept with grace how things are and actively work toward something better.