Friday, June 29, 2007
He looked smaller than I expected.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
The final product, including the limeade/pear juice/pineapple juice/ginger ale with floating raspberries and fresh limes beverage:
After dinner we had Krazy Kake with ice-cream, hot fudge and raspberries (we ate too quickly to capture on camera). Yum! I decided I really need to do this more often.
Whisk together the flour, cocoa, sugar and salt. I prefer to do this step in a mixing bowl but if you prefer to use fewer dishes, this step can be accomplished in the cake pan. Sprinkle in the baking soda and mix well.
Although it does not appear in the recipe, it is at this point that I like to experiment to "spice" the cake up a bit (hence the "Krazy Kake" title). In yesterday's version I added cinnamon, mace and crystallized ginger. I like to play with nutmeg and allspice as well. I wish I could give you some guidance in terms of measuring but I tend to just dump it in and taste test after the wet ingredients are added and add more if needed. If I want the cake to be a bit lighter I add 1 4 ounce package of chocolate pudding mix at this stage.
Pour the dry ingredients in to the baking pan (no spray needed!) and make three wells in the dry mix. Add oil - I use olive oil but vegetable oil works just as well.
Add the remaining wet ingredients - vanilla, vinegar and water - and stir with a wooden spoon. Sometimes as a variation I will add a cup or two of sour cream (only if I add the pudding and some chocolate chips, but only semi-sweet chocolate chips and this variation works better in a bundt pan).Bake in the oven for 35 to 40 minutes at 350 degrees until a toothpick comes out clean.
3 cups flour
1/2 cup cocoa
2 cups sugar
1 tsp. salt
2 tsp. baking soda
Make 3 wells in baking pan and add:
3/4 cup oil (I use olive oil but I used to use vegetable oil and it works as well)
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 tsp. vinegar
2 cups water
Bake 35-40 minutes at 350 degrees
This recipe works well as cupcakes too!
Friday, June 22, 2007
I didn't get any dance (or any other) offers from the boys who showed up to dinner but I did get to dance with our server:The group shot in front of the restaurant, after the rain ended and I reluctantly ended the night:Thank you Brooke for putting a fantastic birthday dinner together for me despite my bratty protests. I had a wonderful time! And I am sure I will have a great time trying out my new somewhat suggestive spices you gave me too, thanks again, you are the best!!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
I enjoyed the chocolate and the raspberry sauce, the hummus looking sauce was a bit odd as was the pinkish jelly thing. I didn't know what to do with the powders in the corner of the plate so I left them alone entirely. K had some sort of tapioca thing because it was the only thing she recognized on the menu then she discovered the jelly things on the corner of her plate were full of sake so she slurped those up happily.
As I walked home well-fed, I called my parents and asked if I could retrieve my present from them that has been sitting with the doorman for the last week. They consented and I pulled this beautifully wrapped package carefully out of the peanut-filled box.
Happily, I received the yellow melamine bowls I wanted as well as a fun Le Creuset oval dutch oven in flame.
This morning started with a call from my mom as I walked to work and a tin bucket full of reese's peanut butter cups, tootsie rolls and Take 5 bars delivered to my office from AS. She has been great with the birthday treats. I stayed occupied most of the day returning well-wishing emails, answering fun singining phone calls and taking an extra long lunch. One of the highlights was an unexpected delivery of chocolate covered strawberries and apples from Ruby. Seriously, amazing!
Then I went to lunch with a group from work to Town, seriously, that is the name. I was in food heaven. I started the meal with Tuna tart with green peppercorn glaze with muscat grapes and spicy caviar tartar - almost the best thing I have ever eaten! This was soon followed by lobster ravioli which I assumed would have just a bit of lobster stuffed in a ravioli shell. But no, it was one giant ravioli (raviola?) surrounded by chunks of lobster and the flesh of the lobster claw on top. Again, one of the best things I have ever eaten. I finished the meal with rice pudding with ginger and mango sorbet. One word - amazing! The meal finished up three hours ago and I am still basking in it.
Now I just need to close up shop here in the office so that in a couple of hours I will be ready to eat guacomole at Mama Mexico - the only real Mexican restaurant in New York. I will try and post the results of the party later.
A year or so ago I awoke from a vivid dream in which I was hiking up the side of a dark, cold mountain with a light snow falling. I was tired and alone. When I was near the top, I had to wind along a narrow path pressed against steep cliffs of lava rock which I faced as I side-stepped along the narrow ledge. I came to an opening in the craggy rocks and was startled to see the exact image pictured above - The Blue Lagoon! It was not familiar to me but somehow I was prepared so I stripped down to my swimming suit and slid into the natural hot tub as the snow fell softly all around me. Once in the soothing geothermal pools I began looking around and discovered the familiar faces of my friends and family contentedly bobbing around me. It was such a vivid image of peace and serenity, I woke up reluctantly wondering where I conjured up this calming pool. Despite the fact that I had no conscious memory of having seen or recently learned anything about these pools, I somehow knew my dream was of Iceland and I knew I needed to visit.
If you want to help make my dream more of a premonition, book your flights now on Iceland Air and I will meet you at the Blue Lagoon at the end of August. Until then I will also be dreaming of exploring these places:
- why do I ever get lured into purchasing linen? it is only crisp for the first 5 seconds after you put it on and then it is a wrinkled mess
- why did I iron my new linen pants this morning given my experience and knowledge that linen becomes a waded mess nearly instantly
- why do I ever think I can make a "quick" stop into a bookstore? I stopped at Border's last night to pick up a book on Iceland and left with a book on Iceland, 2 poetry books and "The Nanny Diaries" despite the fact that I have only finished one of the 4 books I recently purchased on amazon.com
- When will my sister give me the green light to purchase our vacation tickets?
- I am EXTREMELY excited and distracted by August vacation plans, destination: Iceland!
- I have a really great friend at work who has dropped off a different bag of candy each day this week to celebrate my birthday week - Nuggets Truffles (with caramel pecan truffle filling), Mary Janes and dark chocolate M&Ms.
- I wonder what my parent's got me, my mother made me leave the package that arrived over a week early with my doorman. Maybe I can just pick it up tonight
- shoot, I need to send out an email about the ward activity today
- work is strangely absent in my head today
- I think I have conditioned myself to crave caffeine in the afternoon at work, specifically Coke Zero or Diet Dr Pepper
- what do I do when someone volunteered to organize a birthday dinner for me but hasn't sent me any information on the promised festivities when it is tomorrow? other people have asked to be included but now I am worried it isn't getting planned which is why I tried to dissuade anyone from organizing anything in the first place, I hate being disappointed
- doesn't the Blue Lagoon sound intriguing? I didn't even realize it was a real place or in Iceland until a few days ago, now I get to go there!
- seriously, do I email someone about the lack of notice or maybe send an email with names of other people I want to invite?
- Last year I had dessert on my birthday (the birthday dinner and dessert I planned) at a place called Room 4 Dessert and it was mentioned in this article I read over lunch today
- my computer is ridiculously slow today
- the aritcle also make me want to try P*Ong, ChikaLicious and Kyotofu (which is in my neighborhood), they are all dessert restaurants. Yum!
- I should have stuck with my initial insistance that I didn't want anyone to do anything for my birthday, it would be better than thinking someone is and worrying that they will flake out
- why the sudden surge of interest in setting me up on blind dates?
Sunday, June 17, 2007
As I deliberately arranged each sleeping bag, backpack, the dutch oven, tent and the other long forgotten odds and ends of a desert camp-out neatly in the trunk, I remembered countless family camping trips and vacations where no one, not even my mother, was allowed to put anything in the trunk/van/truck until my dad arrived to carefully arrange it all. This was the first of many such "I'm turning into Dad" moments in my life.
As a child I was a definite daddy's girl - I was his "punky girl" long before that Brewster kid came along. I vividly remember how happy I was to see him at the end of the day and how much I enjoyed being by his side whether I was pestering him with questions as I tried to understand football, tagging along to his orchestra rehearsals or accompanying him to the office on a Saturday. My earliest memory is of my dad and me walking through a field of tall bleached grass that seemed to be as tall as my 3- or maybe 4-year old head. My small hand was engulfed by my dad's and this dream-like image has stuck in my head as a comforting piece of nostalgia, a wistful desire for something I barely remember.
I often tease my dad and complain about what he has passed along to me but there are many traits, talents and interests my dad instilled in me for which I am grateful. The first being a love of music. I can associate my dad with everything from Bach, Beethoven, Prokofiev and Rimsky-Korsakov to The Doors, Chicago, Eric Clapton and The Moody Blues. Whether it is classical or classic rock, my dad enjoys cranking up the volume of his state-of-the-art-was-worth-a-lot-of-money-in-1973-stereo with the giant speakers and asking anyone still around to "just listen to that!" His love and enthusiasm for music has been passed along to me. He is a cellist and I distinctly remember being surprised as a child that there could possibly be any cellist better than him. When I was only 9 years old he graduated from BYU and I remember him rehearsing to perform at his graduation and being disappointed that I was not allowed to go. The Bach unaccompanied cello suites made popular by Yo Yo Ma's soundtrack to the movie Master and Commander, belong to my dad. So many Sundays I remember him sitting in the living room on his rickety old piano bench he toted around for its perfect height playing one of through a couple of the movements.
My dad taught me other things. I can chop wood, build a fantastic fire, cook a dutch oven meal, put up any tent and rig anything necessary for a good camp site with some string, a pocket knife and some duct tape. I have learned to collect useless trivia to lecture others on. I was taught the importance of introspection and meditation.
Like most dads, mine has his famous lines. Probably the most memorable is "Line Up!" One of which he is probably not particularly proud. You can imagine this was not an instruction to line up for ice cream (although he may have passed along that love to me as well). No, anytime my siblings and I did something wrong and the culprit was yet to be discovered, or when we were all guilty, my dad would line us up - oldest to youngest -and lecture. Oh, the lectures! For a child it can often be a struggle to stand for 30 seconds on demand but to be forced to stand during one of his lectures - I found it to be absolute torture. Especially the anticipation of the standing torture possibly ending in a spanking.
And one last memory before I let go of the last few minutes of this father's day. When I was in 9th grade I was so excited about all the possibilities of high school. I had greater freedom to choose classes and there were so many exciting extras to choose from. I was already on the basketball team and I worked for that most illustrious paper - the Union Bobcat (or whatever it was called), I was in band and on course for AP and honors classes. I also played on a softball team and a soccer team and had aspirations for trying out for volleyball. I wanted to do everything, immediately. But my dad sat me down and explained that while he believed I could truly excel at whatever I settled on and put my full effort into, I would not be able to do all of those things. I was so upset. How could my dad not believe in me? How could my own father not think I was good enough? Slowly his lesson sunk in and I realized he was right as I flitted from one interest to the next without my full heart. In the back of my mind I always knew my dad was right, I would not excel until I focused. Whenever I allow myself to become distracted by too many competing interests, I remind myself of my father's advice to focus and I make the choices to pare down.
I am amazingly blessed to have the dad I have - one who instilled in me values, taught me not to lie (a story for another day), taught me how to have fun and how to love. My dad is the maudlin one of the family prone to random outbursts of "I just love this family", often at embarrassing times. We tease him, but there has never been any doubt in my mind as to how my dad feels about me and how much he is willing to support me.
Happy Father's Day! I love you Dad!
Thursday, June 14, 2007
I had a really clear view of Jeremy Piven and brief glimpses of a few of the other actors but Mark Wahlberg, Adrian and Piven were the clearest views. Summer in New York sure is fun!
I squinted at the clock: 3:45 a.m.
Despite the fact that the outside temperature was near 65 when I settled in to bed a few hours earlier, the room felt sultry and the window open in the next room no longer provided a refreshing breeze. In my foggy half-dreamy state, I thought I had been transported to a jungle and craved mosquito netting to hang over my bed. I wondered if I could find the mosquito repellent in my linen closet without turning on the hall light. When the amplified buzzing of my tormenter hovered near my ear, I went into a nearly involuntary thrashing that startled me into complete consciousness. I went to the bathroom to inspect the damage and counted 5 or 6 angry red pricks - larger than average mounds with the irritation fanning across the skin. When I returned I shut the window and turned on the air conditioner and buried myself under the duvet hoping that despite the fact the hour had crept past 4, I could get a bit more sleep before my alarm sounded. The mosquito struck me one more time on the forehead before I drifted back to sleep with pillows askew and sheets twisted.
This morning, the only evidence of my bedmate are a few faded bites and my drooping eyelids.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
I started with a couple of slices of multi-grain bread I picked up as my free loaf when I bought brioche for my weekend guests at Amy's Bread (I finished off the breakfast bread pudding I made with the brioche last night).
Then fried an egg.
Slathered one side of the bread with some Smart Balance Light pretend butter with no partially hydrogenated anything and the other side of the bread with chipotle hummus and placed the bread in my panini maker.
Added some havarti cheese with jalapeno pepper on top of the hummus,
Topped that with a couple of slices of tomoato,
Then added the fried egg and a piece of bacon (left over from a similar panini from Monday night),
Added some more cheese. . . and the top layer of "buttered bread",
Closed the panini maker,
Then thoroughly enjoyed the greasy, gooey, pretend it's healthy panini with a side of carrots and hummus.
Clearly I enjoyed it.
I was not overwhelmed by the lobby but was soon directed up a half a flight of stairs to a room I might imagine in a Henry James novel. But before I could even enter the room, a tuxedo-clad waiter offered a tray full of glasses of various shapes and sizes holding a variety of liquids. I selected a wide mouthed, long stem glass after confirming it was filled with perrier and a lime and made my entrance as I noted the ridiculous extravagance of not just having linen cocktail napkins but linen cocktail napkins with the couple's initials stitched in the center in the same font the initials were embossed on the thick gold rimmed invitation. Not a single face looked familiar. But I was not expecting the familiar, not here at an exclusive club on the upper east side. The near wall was lined with buffet tables of sushi and light sandwiches. In the center of the room stood a medium-size round table with a lavish centerpiece of branches and fresh flowers rising nearly high enough to touch the low hanging antique-looking chandelier. The ceilings were high with beautiful crown molding and elaborate detail inlaid across the ceiling. Large, soothing oil paintings occupied each of the side walls and straight ahead French doors opened onto a patio surrounded by greenery with a bar tucked at the end. The clouds were losing the battle of holding up the rain but the doors remained open throughout the evening despite the torrents that fell in sheets on and off. Intimate seating arrangements with velvet covered sofas and elegant wing-back chairs were tucked off to each side of the room and in each corner. As I completed my slow and desperate circle around the room, I landed on a familiar face - the mother of the groom. A woman I know professionally from my clerking days in Salt Lake - a fellow lawyer who has repeatedly extends me invitations to join her firm. I was here to network - awkwardly, at her son's lavish engagement party. She invited me and a number of other lawyers so she would have familiar faces to greet in this exclusive crowd of the Manhattan elite. Most of the women had flawlessly coiffed hair and wore pearls. They wore Chanel suits (or what I imagine were Chanel suits) with broaches and classic cocktail dresses. The men's suits and most everyone's attire looked expensive. Each time I was introduced to one of these women I expected her to place one hand on her chest and gesture toward me with a drawn out "daaahling" with her head tossed back. "So these are wasps," I thought as my eyes roamed around the room settling on various characters only briefly before another would catch my eye. I found it difficult to hear conversations and introductions which were generally spoken in soft and low voices for some reason. One woman to whom I was introduced had long slightly fluffy hair and seemed far too thin for her sagging wrinkled skin. Instead of a hand shake she offered the tips of her fingers as if I would kneel and kiss her knuckles. Her eyes bulged from her emaciated face and she emmitted a pungent mix of moth balls and lavender.
After I was reintroduced to a woman who looked as if she felt more out of place than I did having flown out from Salt Lake, we decided to ditch the awkward circle and head for the sushi bar. Fearing I might fail the delicate beverage/plate balance of cocktail hour, I suggested we make our way to the open setee tucked in the back corner which allowed us to eat and watch the crowd. As we were chatting, the toasts began and my peep hole into the wasp's world was widened just a bit.
The mother of the bride started out. Her hair was swept high in a fairly rigid gray bouffant with a small flip at the end and she wore a long stiff cream jacket with black slacks. She held a stack of papers as she praised her beautiful, only child "a daughter, no less" (a side comment which evoked a slight inexplicable titter from the crowd) on the accomplishment of engagement. Her speech was unremarkable and I honestly did not listen to most of it. She was followed by another excentric woman who became acquainted with the bride due to her relationship (perhaps marriage?) to the bride's godfather. She spoke a bit through her teeth and made some vague literary references I felt were too modern for me to catch and ended her toast with some well wishes that included "a dollop of serendipity!" There was cheek kissing of the bride and another woman stepped up to the microphone and when she arrived I knew I needed to somehow, slyly jot down a couple of notes to capture the experience. Luckily I was still near the setee so I used my 4 inch heels and the long line of toasts as an excuse to sit and put down my perrier.
She had a classy but frizzing triangular cut and wore a black dress with white polka-dots. Around her neck hung a multi-strand choker of pearls with a red pashmina somewhat dramatically tossed over her right shoulder. Her wrists were filled with gold bangles and her brightly floraled shoes did not quite match. She introduced herself as the bride's godmother and immediately caught my attention with her air of superiority in explaining how "many of you may know the bride-to-be as Katherine or Kat or even [curtly, articulately and somewhat disdainfully] Katie. But to me [dramatic pause] she will always be Petunia." A bit of surprised but polite laughter rippled through the room. Encouraged, the godmother pressed forward about how Petunia was her pet name as a child so she passed it along to the bride due to their special bond and despite the fact that since she always wore pearls (gesturing toward the pearls at her neck) and gold bracelets (holding up her free right arm and clinking the bracelets around as evidence) for which the bride as a baby always grabbed, she could have "just as easily called her Pearl, which young Petunia pronounced Puh-rl" with a loud and obnoxious emphasis on the first syllable which sounded more like the hee-haw of a donkey or "Goldie."
The stories went on, painting a picture of this petite brunette as a shopping-obsessed, spoiled trust funder - although no actual mention of a trust fund was mentioned, I just assumed. I was not impressed but everyone smiled and laughed at the warnings to always give her ample closet space and never deny her shopping privileges. The next woman to step up to the mic was small and bird-like and claimed to be some sort of teacher, I suspect from some elite all-girls private institution in the City. But she also seemed to be a sort of governess, if those still exist, or friend of the family because I gathered she often traveled with them. There were stories of some "camp" she accompanied the bride to at Westpoint where the poor girl was subjected to playing basketball, sleeping in the barracks (which was more stark than the worst college dorm!) and she whined but somehow survived. There were stories about summers in the south of France (I swear I am not making this up) where the small child was able to control the locals with her "pefected come hither look" and insisted everyone bend to her will which delighted the speaker. She was praised as being able to pull off and be comfortable in anything from jeans to formals "as long as it is designer."
By the last doting admirer of the bride (a male, who was subjected to endless criticism of his attire and specifically his shoes by the bride-to-be), I was worn out and could no longer listen. I was curious what the groom's parents would say. They are a wealthier family living in the exclusive by Salt Lake standards neighborhood of Federal Heights. The father is a doctor, the mother a lawyer. Successful, no? Not in this crowd, I mean, they work for a living and that seems somewhat "low." (Please read my dripping sarcasm). The majority of the people in the room appeared to be part of the "ladies who lunch" set who I sometimes encounter when I take summer associates out to lunch on the firm. They come from generations of trust fund enabled socialites where ivy league educations are collected for prestige sake, not for the job it might secure. The groom's family is a large, not quite typical (due to the working mom part) Mormon family with children (perhaps 5?) ranging from their 20s down to elementary school age. Good, friendly, open people who couldn't possibly be prepared for a daughter-in-law like this. I first met the mother when she offered her beautiful home to my friend to host a party.
The only toast came from the father - it was short, involved a somewhat entertaining story about the groom's early and enthusiastic introduction to chess, praise of the bride, a few jokes about her fashion criticism directed at him and a sweet welcome to the family. The mother explained to me later that she had no desire to get up there.
After the toasts, I stayed longer than I expected, sitting on the setee enjoying a conversation with two female lawyers, one of whom talked about her 30-year reunion with the 8 women from her graduating class at one of the women's vacation home in the Bahamas last summer. I find it fascinating to discuss my profession with women of her generation who really were among the first to forge through the male barrier. All the while I kept one eye scanning the room for people a bit closer to my age - or even the bride's and groom's ages which seem to be lagging a minimum of 5 to 6 years behind mine. I spotted only a handful. This event appeared to be primarily for the bride's mother, yet another distinction between this world and my own.
I realized this was a one time passport to a world to which I have no desire to belong - other than to sample a summer or two in the south of France. I enjoyed the glimpse but with so much emphasis on the stereo-typical and somewhat empty interest of shopping above all else, it felt hollow. There was a passing reference to her ivy-league education at Brown but ultimately she was painted as a coy fashionista who had ensnared her husband. I really hope my friends and family have more to say about me if toasts are ever called for. Although, I must admit, it would be fun to have an eccentric pearl and gold bedecked godmother. She probably gives great birthday presents.
I said my goodbyes after I noticed a lingering break in the rain and made my way to the street, pausing briefly by the door and wondering if it would be tacky and rude to swipe a clean white linen napkin as a momento. They couldn't possibly need them all, could they? I stopped myself and walked down the steps to the entrance where I paused to relieve my feet of the beautiful but painful shoes. I declined the doorman's offer to hail me a taxi and chose to walk home in the cool, clean air along the freshly scrubbed streets so I could slowly ease back into my own world.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
- I just finished (last night) reading "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote - a fascinating and compelling piece of non-fiction. I highly recommend it, although as I read it a paraphrased quote from Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness echoed in my head: "a fascination with the abomination." This idea was the thesis of my senior paper in college on the guillotine during the French Revolution. I do not consider myself particularly obsessed with abominable things and generally steer clear of the gory but I find murder mysteries and the psychosis involved both appalling and enthralling, which is why I will also look into reading "Saints and Strangers", also a Harrison suggestion.
- Don't laugh, but I remember really enjoying "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" by Rebecca Wells. I believe I read it before seeing the movie. A fantastic summer read for the effortless way it draws you in.
- I recommend "Marley & Me" by John Grogan principally to dog lovers. As I have stated, I love memoirs and changing up the central figure to a naughty yellow lab made this a hardcover airport impulse buy and instant read. Gratefully, my sweet black lab never had the behavior problems of Marley but that did not prevent me from identifying over and over with the author and recognizing Malcolm in descriptions such as "just speak to him with a stern voice, and he acted deeply wounded" and "[h]e more wagged his whole body, starting with the front shoulders and working backward. He was like the canine version of a Slinky." Someday I need to thoroughly write about Malcolm & Me.
- "Their Eyes Were Watching God" by Zora Neale Hurston is easily one of my favorite books of all time. It actually improves each time I read it because it reads with a bit of nostalgia and dreamy-ness which feels like returning to the past, if that makes any sense. Just read it.
- Some years ago , apparently when I needed "apples, other fruit?, milk, crackers, ice-cream, cheese, tomato? and cotton balls" according to a yellow post-it in the back flap and when I rode the "Westbus" for $2.20 according to a faded receipt tucked somewhere in the middle, I fell in love with "Lust for Life" by Irving Stone. It is the fictionalized life story of one of the most enthralling painters to date: Vincent Van Gogh. I eagerly pushed the book on my sister soon after I completed it and we continue to reference the book to this day - she endearingly calls me "her Theo". When we visited the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam we felt as if we were visiting an intimate friend.
- "Falling Leaves: The Memoir of an Unwanted Chinese Daughter" by Adeline Yen Mah is both heartbreaking and inspiring. One of the reasons I seek out memoirs is to witness transformations and metamorphoses as they are discovered and experienced first-hand by the author. There are so many amazing stories out there, even in what may seem to the author their ordinary life - although Mah's life was far from "ordinary" western life.
- Finally, I can't make any reading suggestions and omit a Nick Hornby novel. Tonight, I will recommend "About A Boy". Hornby sneaks up on you with astounding character development in the midst of a funny and compelling story without hitting you over the head with it. Love, love, love it.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Junior year our paths crossed intermittently but it was senior year when we fell into the same hodge podge group of dissimilar girls who became inseparable and countless memories followed, including but far from being limited to:
- dress-ups, especially when you panicked in the parking lot of McDonald's and tried to change
- region dances and all those other dorky dances
- slumber parties
- "That's Ms. Bitch To You"
- moving in together at SUU - even with the bumpy road
- Llama Fest
- roller blading together
- first trip out of the state without parents -- "is this heaven? no, just circus circus" and bob's hotel
- trip to LA
- Lake Powell . . .
- introducing me to Sylvia Plath
- my lonely 28th birthday when you made the greatest chocolate cake ever and organized our friends on an expedition to Park City for outlet shopping and nostalgic Red Banjo pizza
- helping me "accidentally" bump into a boy I liked, I think this happened more than once
- persisting in patience with a difficult friend like me
- being my unqualified, old-fashioned pen pal during freshman year sending me something via snail mail at least once a week, often more including music trivia quizzes, random quotes, photos, drawings, home-made coloring book envelopes, stickers, scriptures and fun cards and postcards
- the "pink store"
- late night TPing (and pillaging. . .)
- the sperm in the air (don't ask, I doubt anyone remembers the origin)
- so many shared birthday parties
- a shared love of food, clothes, chocolate and shoes
- the Olympic bobsled track. . .
- countless conversations about everything and nothing at all
- I treasure a handful of really kick ass email dating pep talks