your main squeeze

Maybe I should predict adventure-filled weekends for myself more often.

Because this weekend delivered.

Friday night was dinner with the missionaries and our friends-who-are-like-family. IMG-20110909-00046IMG-20110909-00047


I think I cooked for six straight hours in preparation. Good thing I love it so dang much.


After dinner we got a call from some friends who had some beans. That’s right—beans.


Naturally, we stocked up. There are endless possibilities for green beans.



I like to take pictures of the sky while everyone else is doing work. So what.

Possibility number one: round up your friends and dump them into the beds of your other friends—innocent, football-game-attending suckers.


You can also leave some in the unsuspecting victims’ bathtub, if you’re feeling charitable.


We were feeling charitable.


Possibility number two is a lot more work and, in my opinion, much less fun. Chop the ends off, blanche them, and freeze them.


I am lucky to have such a willing, diligent helper!

When we finished the beans [and by that I mean ‘when we decided to give up on the bean project for the day’] we left our kitchen smelling like cut grass and took our sore, green-stained fingers outside to enjoy the fresh air.


I got a package in the mail from a friend who was concerned about my teeth being messed up from the accident. She graciously included several new options for me to try out.


And this, kids, is how you win friends. With stunning looks and a killer smile.


I’d just like to take a minute here to talk about guacamole. I love it. I think maybe there’s weed in avocados or something. Because that stuff is like crack. I feel like a pregnant woman the way I crave it. Just throwin’ that out there. Ahem. Back to business.

Saturday night I spent quality time with my beautiful nurses-turned-friends. Here’s what the evening was: Texas Crafts. Double whammy; twice as much out of my element.IMG-20110910-00131

They were making fall inspired wreaths and signs that cheerfully proclaimed “Happy Fall, Y’all!”. True story. They were sitting around wielding glue guns and tossing fake flowers to each other and admiring their work all while listening to country music. Honestly, if I weren’t living it I would think it was all a joke. I wanted to bust out some Lil’ Wayne and some drugs just to feel more at home. But this is my home now, so I’ll have to adjust. Luckily being from Texas didn’t affect who these people were; I still laughed with them and engaged in conversation with them while watching them get stringy hot glue all over their fingers.IMG-20110910-00142


I got along with them aside from the being-stoked-for-fall thing. In that aspect I didn’t fit in with them at all—me with my coral colored nails, my Florida dreamin’ mind, and my sea-green toes.


I’ve yet to deal with a real fall—one where the leaves change and the temperature nose dives and my nose gets red and lips get chapped and long sleeves and closed toed shoes are self-mandated. There aren’t a whole lot of falling leaves around here, but we’ll see how well I handle the falling temperatures.


There was a little puppy there, one that looked a lot my dog (though I have been known to say that about almost every dog I see…I’m serious this time).


He was a friendly little guy, and fit in with the craftiness way more than I did, making himself at home among the discarded flowers and stems and failed attempts at creativity.

Heck, he even had more interaction with the people than I did.


Okay, that part if not true. I just didn’t jump up on them and lick their face.

Sunday was, of course, church.


On a completely unrelated note, I figured out how to silence the annoying, embarrassing shutter noise on my annoying, embarrassing Blackberry.

Followed by a walk around the temple which we live a mere four minutes away from, a nice change from the previous three hour drive required in Florida.



Now don’t get any ideas…this wasn't as quaint and charming as I told myself it was. It was approximately one million degrees outside and after one loop around the beautiful grounds we made a beeline back to the church to soak in the air conditioning.


It was still beautiful though. Just hot.


Other significant events from this weekend:

-I got feathers! I’m hip!IMG-20110911-00214

-I discovered that dry erase markers work like magic on the front of our stainless-steel fridge. Cue grocery lists, notes to people, and random drawings of Asian men.


-I turned one of those dang Texans into a thug. Holla!


-Tonight we worked on thank you notes. Well, we tried to anyway. There is no way we are going to be able to remember everyone that has done nice things for us. And I think our thank you notes should extend past these last six months and beyond people helping us in our trials. Like “thanks for coming over for dinner”, “thanks for being my friend”, “thanks for not being my friend because you taught me something”, or just “thanks for being in my life”. Though if that were the case, my now limp hand would literally be dead.

-Have I mentioned how much I like guacamole? And how pretty the temple is at night? I’m sure they’re related somehow.


Last night I couldn’t sleep. At. All. No idea why. You know how some people count sheep or listen to simulated ocean noises or count to a bajillion? Well none of those work for me. When my brain decides it doesn’t want me to sleep there’s no arguing with it. Bored with tossing and turning and trying to tell my brain to shut up and let me sleep, I got out of bed and started cooking.


The cooking continued for a while. A long while.


The plus side is that my mom will not have to cook one single day that I’m in Florida. Ha.


I get into weird ruts at night when I’m working in the kitchen. I can’t finish one recipe until starting another. Something about being completely finished scares me [maybe I’m just afraid of cleaning up after myself. Ha ha]. I think I need therapy.


I worked in an uninterrupted rhythm till after three in the morning. I’m psychotic. Seriously. Random songs were taking turns playing in my head—and I mean random songs. Like I Want You Back by NSYNC, If I Didn't Have You from Quest for Camelot, and even some good ol’ School House Rock. The DJ in my head is officially fired. Where those songs came from I’ll never know. Just like I’ll never know why I love making messes and taking pictures of them.


One thing I know for sure is that, if nothing else, my dad is missing out on a lot of good food. Sucker.


All nighter baking parties is a new trend I started after coming home from college in April. My mom likes to call it stress baking. Ha. I’ve already figured out that cooking is when I think the best and that it’s therapeutic for me. However, the last time I stayed up all night was this time—the last night in our old house. I thought a lot about that night, about all the nights I stayed up, frantically dicing and mixing as though my life depended on it. It’s different here; there’s no dog barking, we left behind lots of our baking equipment, and we don’t have a pantry chock full of ingredients. Honestly, last night I found a stray onion hidden in the fridge door and literally got excited because of all the new and exciting food possibilities. Don’t get me wrong, we’re obviously not starving. It’s just still a new house, still waiting to catch up with us. And the onion thing was a bit like stone soup story—its about making the best of what you have, about using what you’ve got. IMG-20110912-00246

Another thing that is drastically, painfully different about this house is the proximity of my mother’s room to the kitchen. Meaning that the light from the kitchen and the clatter of the pans and the crack of the knife against the cutting board penetrates quickly through her wooden door, undoubtedly keeping her awake. This was my solution:


Though the blanket may have reduced the piercing light, I’m certain it did nothing for the sound. Gratefully she didn’t tell me to be quiet or sleep or anything. Props to her for knowing that sometimes I need to make four course meals just because, for taking the rough end of the deal for a night and letting me stay awake, destroying the kitchen all night [Word on the street is that she had to wash a pan the next morning just to make Aria eggs. Sorry, mom!]. She was also gracious enough not to wake me up the next morning, allowing me to rest my finally-silenced brain, having fallen asleep in a makeshift bed surrounded by my beloved cookbooks. I slept until 10:30 the next morning when I woke up to the sunlight streaming into the room.


Which brings us to today. Which means two things:

1. 9 days till Florida.


2. Guacamole.


[Title from Corona and Lime by Shwayze]


  1. Bridian,
    Love reading your posts have thought so much about you. I feel like a stalker, with you not knowing that I read every one. But I do. You are simply amazing.

  2. You cook to think, I read your blog and clean... I can only do so much cleaning while we are packing and moving so your blog it is.

    Somehow in my self-serving brain I decided that you knew I needed an extra long post tonight.

    Thanks Brid

  3. As always, another great post Bridian. I had to laugh at the juxtaposition of the thug wearing a CTR ring, now that's real gangster.

  4. Bridian, you and your blog are awesome. I am excited that you are coming to visit! Give your family hugs from me and James. xoxo

  5. I still cannot for the life of me understand how anyone can actually like to cook. I see nothing fun or therapeutic about it. I really wish I did. Just a little jealous right now because it is a great quality. Your family is so lucky to have you there!

  6. You inspire me. Cooking has never appealed to me until you. Love you Bridian