Guilty pleasures....

Oh Slurpee...how I love thee!

I do love an icy treat. A Slurpee is perfect icy treat. Here's why:

1. There are no pesky ice chunks. 
2.  It comes with a spoon straw. Cool.
3.  They "grow" so be careful...they overflow!
4.  You can mix the flavors - - so pretty!
5.  If you're not digging the "fruity" you can go old school Coca-Cola
6. There's even sugar free flavors - go Crystal Lite!

I could go on and on....suffice it to say I sneak off sometimes in the wee hours to feed my fix

Thank heaven for 7-11!

Delish!

I was introduced to El Toro by Merile. I not usually a fan of Mexican Food, but I have to admit, the food here is yum. El Toro is Merile's FAVORITE place to eat.  She is particularly fond of the green salsa.  Not my bag, but, if I'm in the doghouse a sure way out is to bring home chips and green salsa ;)

We had lunch at the El Toro on Saturday. I needed some food TLC following an unfortunate morning getting my eyes dilated and being told I need bifocals.  So, off to El Toro we went.

Please note:  El toro means "the bull."  Let me tell you...it is aptly named because the lunch special on Saturday was NO BULL!!! 

Here a lovely description of the special.  Yumcitybaby!

Now, lest you freak out...and think that I was visiting hefferville, Merile and I shared this little piece of heaven on a plate. 

Can I just describe for you this dish? Imagine a smokey, slightly peppery sauce kissed with a hint of sour cream.  I learned that a pasilla is a type of pepper, that truly shines when mixed with roasted peppers and chipoltes. 

Note that the special came with a slice of watermelon. Overkill.  Really, don't put anything on the plate except for the Pollo a la Veracruz yumminess.

As you can see,  we ate the whole thing. We didn't even realize that they had provided us with some nifty tortillas to sop up the sauce I couldn't capture with my fork. If there hadn't been people sitting next to us, I would've licked the plate.

Merile also enjoyed the special; however, she (like usual) was completely smitted by the salsa verde. Please check out the damage done by the green salsa.  It's so good, it's a clothing weapon:

So, in honor of the Saturday Vera Cruz special and the green salsa...I have written an ode to El Toro:

Thank you, El Toro for the yummy surprise
When I needed a treat for my dilated eyes
We though we'd be having the usual fare
Of chips and green salsa - but we decided to share

 A mastery of flavors- with peppers so savory
the Pollo a la Vera Cruz was driving me crazy!
It was so yummy I wanted to cry
When the dish was devored, I though I would die...

And Merile, loving her green salsa too
Drank every last drop except just a few
A little bit of salsa decided to rain
Down the front of her shirt, making a stain

A stain, however, my friend - its true
Is a small price to pay when out of the blue
You get to enjoy a treat so great
That if no one was looking, you'd lick your plate.

yay El Toro!

Something I'm afraid of....true confessions

Jack asked me the other day what I was afraid of.  I had no hesitation. "The pressure cooker," I lamely admitted.

This think freaks me out. The thought of ALL that pressure building up inside a tightly sealed can is a bit frightening to me.  I can just see the headline now:

"Local Prosecutor Blown to Bits by Pressure Cooker While Canning Peaches"

I know my fear is irrational.  However, I carefully read the instructions every time prior to putting the regulator on the vent.  It is the only thing that makes me feel okay about chancing my life endeavoring to put up fruit and tomatoes for my family. 

Please note my sacrifice.  In fact, I think I shall remind the kids frequently how close to death I've come slaving over the pressure cooker. 

Do you think they'll buy it?

The best thing about being scared to death of the pressure cooker?  My sister Jennifer is more terrified than am I.  We needed therapy after canning tomatoes together  :)

BYU boys!

Meet the BYU boys!  Uncle Francisco, Jack, Uncle Justin and Uncle Ben...all hatted up and ready for BYU football.  Go Cougs!

Unfortunatley, the team spirit embodied by these boys was not enough to pull the Cougs past Air Force.  BYU got wallupped.  Oh well.

One of Jack's favorite things when we're driving (I've done it since he was tiny) is to have me pretend I'm a sports announcer for BYU. Ahem...here it goes:

"Now playing for the BYU Cougars  (imagine the echo on "Cougars"), No. 15.....Tight End.....Jack 'the  Rumbler' Montgomery" (imagine the echo on Montgomery, then the roar of the crowd)

Apparently, I'm the sports announcer for every sport and Jack is apparently going to play BYU Football, BYU baseball, BYU wrestling and BYU soccer.

Well, at least he PLANNING on it!

Go Cougs!

A blast from the past....

I love to shop at the Goodwill. A couple months ago, I was looking for shorts for Jack and look what I found!  A cookie jar EXACTLY like the one we had when we were kids.

This isn't your ordinary cookie jar. We all had a love/hate relationship with it.  We loved it because it held yummy treats like Cowboy cookies and we hated it because it made a clanking that would raise the dead when you touched the lid. 

Now that I'm a mom....I'd LOVE having this cookie jar.

The bummer?  I didn't buy it.  I wish I would have.   Oh well, it was a nice trip down memory lane!

Do you believe in miracles?

This is my pesky debit card. It frequently goes missing.  I usually find it, but generally after a moment of sheer panic, I transition (not so gracefully) through the 4 stages of grief. First, I deny that it's lost.  Then, I'm anrgy at myself and whatever mutant stole my card. Then, I start to bargin. Please, please, please help me find my card. Then, I add a stage of tearing my house and car upsidedown. Finally, there's acceptance. No, I'd say resignation. I lost it AGAIN.

So, yesterday, I lost my debit card. The kids helped me look in the car and in the house.  I even went through the recycling and garbage, which was nasty.  Finally, I tell the kids we can't go do our stuff because my card was missing. I was white hot ticked off.

My sweet partner is not a freak-out kind of person. In fact, she is the polar opposite of freak out. I called her to find out whether she accidently took my card, of course she hadn't. She's too responsible to do that.  Let's just say I voiced my overall frustration to her....not AT her, TO her. Bless her heart, she told me to settle down, not let it ruin my night, chill out and scrounge up some change to go get a treat with the kids.  My response? No. I still had to look.

It must've been another hour before I finally hit my knees.  My prayer was lame. I truly did not deserve to have ANY inspiration leading me to my card.  And I got none. My bad.

Sometimes, I'm my worst enemy.  I go on record stating that I looked through all of the clothes in the dryer, the wet clothes in the washer and every single dirty towel that I put into the washer. Both kids looked in the washer and dryer.

Merile came home from work around midnight and carefully asked me if I found my card. I grumpily said no. Merile: "did you pray about it?"
Kelly: "Yes."
Merile:  "it will be found...it's here in the house somewhere."
Kelly:  "I doubt it. Some freak stole it...we should just order a new one."

I went to bed cross.

About 10 am this morning, Merile IM's me. "Honey, I found your debit card,  it was in the dryer."

I'm telling you, that debit card was not in the dryer last night.  There is no way. Three people looked in the dryer and the washer and went through every stitch of clothing inside and out.

So, I believe in miracles: it was probably nothing but HF's sheer mercy for me and Merile's prayers that the debit card ended up in the dryer. It certainly wasn't my prayers.  Added bonus: the darn debit card was washed and dried and STILL works.

I am a humble, grateful girl today.  :)

Reverence from a five year old's perspective:

L. Tom Perry once said that Reverence is "an attitude of deepest love and respect." When I think about being reverent, one of the images that comes to my mind is a little child, sitting quietly, arms folded instead of monkeying about acting like a freak in church.  Many other images come to mind, but there's something very sweet about a child's reverence.

On Sunday, I went to pick up Jack from his primary class, CTR4. I have to give a bit of background.  My son is ALL boy. However, we have some rules about Jack's behavior during primary.  I expect him to behave himself. I also expect him to keep himself dressed; that means...don't take off or otherwise damage your tie. Don't use it as a lasso or a headband. A tie, in primary, is not a tourniquet. Neither is it a lashing device.  It isn't a whip. Jack knows this.  In fact, when I drop him to primary, I generally give him a smooch and say the following:  (it's my Primary mantra)  "Be reverent, son. And, what is the rule about your tie?" He will look at me obediently and say, "No taking off my tie, ma."  That's right. Leave it on. 

So, back to Sunday. I pick Jack up and notice that he's completely dressed.  Shirt untucked but tie in place.  As Jack walks to me, his sweet teacher, Sister Bliss stops him, put her hand on his head and says, "I so appreciate Jack, he is so reverent in class."

I am stunned.

I am pleased.

I thank her for her efforts in putting up with a bunch of five year old kids and we head to the car.  I tell Jack I'm proud of him for being reverent and that Sister Bliss was grateful that he was reverent.  I then ask him, "Jack, do you know what it means to be reverent?" 

He ponders for just a second then says, "It means no tooting in primary." 

Yes, knowing my son, that's EXACTLY what being reverent means.