John Wilkes Booth

Thank you, Coral Cliffs Elementary for providing me with the following entertainment:

6:00 p.m.- I was making smoothies and 'dillas for dinner. Macey was watching. "Mom," Macey asked, "Did you know that Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves?"

"Yeah. That's pretty neat, huh?" I responded and went back to the blender, "Do you know what a slave is?"

Macey, after thinking for a second, "Umm....a bad person?"

Elise: "GAH!" I was then forced into a ten minute explanation of slavery in five-year-old terms. I'm pretty sure Macey considers herself a slave now. And she'll probably be afraid of kidnappers for the rest of her life. And plays (more on that later).

6:16 p.m.- As I was peeling a banana, Macey asked, "Mom, did you know that Abraham Lincoln was the sixteenth president of the United States?"

Me: "No, I didn't." Inwardly I was thinking about how Macey is already starting to know more than me.

6:24 p.m.- While sipping her smoothie Macey launched into the following speech: "Mom, did you know that Abraham Lincoln was born in the wilderness and lived in a log cabin and had to read by the light of a fire and his mom had to teach him because they didn't have a school?"

"Huh." I responded, trying futilely to ward off brain freeze.

6:28 p.m.- Macey says in her most grave voice, "Mom. Abraham Lincoln was shot and killed."

"Yeah. Do you know where he was when he was killed? At a PLAY. The guy who killed him was... ... ..." (This is where my mind went blank.) "It wasn 't Lee Harvey Oswald...umm...And I KNOW that Benjamin Gates' ancestors had nothing to do with it..."

Normally when I'm faced with a question of this nature I will simply text Jon and Meegan and see who responds first. I wanted to remember it on my own so I spent the remainder of the evening trying to remember who shot Abraham Lincoln. I couldn't focus on anything without Abe Lincoln's nameless assassin interrupting my thoughts.

9:31 p.m.- The kids were in bed, DJ was doing his homework on the computer and I was reading recreationally. (I know. It's been so long! Blasted homework.) The house was so quiet you could hear the cursing of the gnats that were hitting our porch light. "JOHN WILKES BOOTH!" I proclaimed victoriously.

John Wilkes Booth, everyone.

The end.

Let Us Pray

If your ward executive secretary calls you on Saturday night and asks if you will give the opening prayer in Sacrament meeting the following morning, be sure to ask him the following questions:

1. I'm usually ten minutes late--does that matter?
2. If not, are you cool with me giving the prayer from the foyer?
3. Is there going to be a Senator in attendance?

I would never have thought to ask question #3 until this morning. When I showed up at Sacrament meeting to give the opening prayer Senator Orrin Hatch was sitting on the stand. I came this close to pretending that I forgot something in my car and driving to Disneyland. (That rhymed.) The executive secretary would never find me there because I know a great place to hide in New Orleans Square. I pulled it together, though, and said the prayer. (That also rhymed.)
After a nervous, shaky-voiced prayer I sat down by DJ. As we sang the Sacrament hymn I had a revelation. (Yeah, I know. I should've been thinking about the Atonement. I was distracted by the fact that I should've ironed my clothes.) I remembered a video I saw of Senator Hatch this past week. You can watch it here. Needless to say, I wish I had remembered the video before I froke (that's "freak out", past tense). It brought me a lot of comfort.

(P.S. Brother Hatch's talk was very good. Here's a memorable quote: "Atheists look at God the way bank robbers look at policemen." It doesn't rhyme or anything but I thought it was pretty good. For a smart man he sure didn't rhyme very much.)

the Ugly, the Bad, and the Good

Bad ideas I had this week:

• Parallel parking my Tahoe in a Prius-sized parking space at school.


• Putting Big Boy Undies on DJ (little DJ) and then forgetting about them. And then going to Walmart. (Which is always a bad idea, in and of itself. Always.)
  
• Writing smart-alecky answers to the questions on my geology homework at midnight. (Why, oh why do I think I'm funny when I'm tired? Or ever?)


• Letting Olivia hold the bag of wheat we were taking to my aunt Mary's house to grind (because she has a really spiffy grinder and let us use it because she's awesome that way). I have wheat kernels all over my car.


• Eating Cafe Rio knock-off pork salads for, like, eight meals straight. Holy angioplasty, Batman.
  

Good ideas I had slash ripped off this week but mostly just ripped off:

• Six words: Cafe Rio pork knock-off recipe. Where have you been all my life?! I'm going to post it here...it's that good. And for those of you who are worried about the Coke--don't worry, the caffeine burns off when you cook it. (wink, wink)
• "Human progress never rolls in on wheels on inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co-workers with God..."--Martin Luther King, Jr. Good idea.


• Putting spinach and frozen broccoli in my kids' smoothies. I got this idea from my brilliant friend, Judi, who has been tricking her children into eating vegetables this way for years. Good parenting is all about trickery. And bribery. And starfall.com.

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...

Cafe Rio Pork Knock-off Recipe That I Found On the Internet

2 lbs. pork (the fatty, delicious shoulder kind that comes in a net because it's bad for you)

3 cans Coca-Cola (NOT diet. Seriously? You're already eating pork.)

1/4 c. brown sugar

dash garlic salt

1/4 c. water

1 can diced green chilies

3/4 can enchilada sauce (medium-hotness Old El Paso)

1 c. brown sugar

Marinate the pork in 1 and 1/2 cans of Coke and 1/4 c. brown sugar for a few hours or overnight.

Drain marinade and put pork, 1/2 can of Coke, water and garlic salt in a crock pot on high for 3-4 hours. Remove pork and drain and leftover liquid. Shred pork.

In a food processor or blender, blend 1/2 can Coke, chilies, enchilada sauce, and 1 c. brown sugar. Put shredded pork and sauce in crock pot on high for another two hours. Voila!

And, as promised, The Ugly:

Horn Tooting

Excuse me, I feel inclined to toot my own horn.

Political Science 1100, how I loathe thee! You are a despicable class. You require me to debate about political issues for which there is no solution. You test me on opinions and theories that I don't understand. Your textbook is coma-inducing. Also, your classroom is frigid, has unflattering fluorescent lighting, and smells vaguely of erasers and feet. But today, Political Science, you are my friend.

I have taken my first political science test. Not only did I pass the first test, but I got the second highest score in all of the instructor's classes. 98%! All together now: HALLELUJAH!

Horn tooting over.

As you were.