Best Guacamole: The Mexicali 4am Hangover Special

When I signed up for the California Avocado Dinner at Evo Conference two weeks ago, I'll admit that I didn't really read the fine print. My friends were going, I like avocados, there you go. I walked in an found my friends Shannon and Erica at a table. We were chatting when Erica said something that caught my attention about the chefs cooking for us. I don't even remember what it was (you'll see why,) but it prompted me to turn around and there, right behind me, was Susan Feniger.

And I completely, totally, lost. my. cool.

As in I jumped up, started breathing really fast, turned to Shannon and Erica and said, "OHMYGOSHTHAT'SSUSANFENIGERYOUGUYSYOUGUYS." To their credit, they both looked at me as if I was a plaid cow and said, "Who?" "SUSANFENIGER" I hyperventilated, "One of the most famous chefs in the world, she's been on Top Chef Masters, had her own cooking shows, practically introduced haute Mexican to America with her partner Mary Sue Milliken and OHMYGOSH SHE'S RIGHT THERE." I turned around, knocked over a couple chairs, and introduced myself. Susan had the most joyous smile on her face. "I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE GOING TO BE HERE," I said.
"Well, who did you expect?" she said. I didn't have an answer.
"Could I get a picture?" I asked.
"Of course!"

It's probably a good thing that I didn't see Mary Sue Milliken on the other side of the room or I would have fainted dead away. I so, so lost my cool.

Before we dined, we split into teams of four to compete to make the best guacamole. We were judged on taste, presentation, and the name. I turned to Erin, sitting next to me, and said, "I will bury you." I'm a little competitive. As luck would have it, Erica was on my team! We brainstormed some ideas and came up with a backstory and recipe. Our team went up against 11 others, and we WON! WE WON! IN YOUR FACE, ERIN. Susan Feniger and Mary Sue Milliken picked ME! I mean, picked my team.

The Mexicali 4a.m. Hangover Special

You spend the night in Mexicali and some bad, bad stuff went down. It's 4a.m. and you have to be back in L.A. to work by 9. You need something to set you right again, something so that your boss will never suspect the night of you are leaving behind.

4 ripe California Haas Avocados
1/3 c diced bacon bits
1 hardboiled egg, chopped
1 TBL diced tomatoes
1 TBL minced red onion
2 tsp minced jalapeno
2 tsp rice wine vinegar
Dash of chili flakes
Salt to taste

Topping:
1/3 c sour cream
1 Tbl chiles in adobo sauce
Dash of salt
Cotija cheese
Lime juice
Tortilla chips

Mix sour cream, adobo sauce, and salt together, set aside.
Toss all ingredients except the avocados together, add three peeled and pitted avocados, gently mash them into the ingredients, being careful to keep some large chunks of avocado. Check seasoning, add more salt or more vinegar as needed. Halve the remaining avocado, remove pit, hollow out a little more, gently remove the avocado from the skin. Salt the avocados. Spoon the guacamole into the hollowed avocados, dollop with sour cream, set on top of tortilla chips, sprinkle with cotija cheese and a squeeze of lime.

(Sorry about the poor picture quality, I was so busy acting cool I'd forgotten to talk the plastic off the back of my phone. Keep it together, keep it together.)

What Happens on a Wednesday: Caputo's Chocolate Class!

My friend Janet sent me an email asking if I wanted to go to a chocolate class at Caputo's Market in Salt Lake. The answer to that question is YES, JANET.

That's Matt Caputo, who has the unenviable task of eating several pounds of chocolate a day. You think this would be the best job ever, but I suspected, and Matt confirmed, that eventually it's like having to eat anything else: you get real sick of it, and real fast. People foist chocolate on him all day: he gets packages and packages of chocolate, must try all of it, and most of it isn't good.

I'll level with you, dear readers, I completely walked into the class with a "Go ahead, teach me something about chocolate that I do not know" attitude. And you know what Caputos said? DONE. Next. Broughten. Here's what I knew: a brand that rhymes with SchMershey's is disgusting (because, guys, it really is, why are you still eating it?) Here's what I didn't know: my favorite brand of chocolates, Leonidas, is considered chocolate and vanilla flavored candy. I still love it because if you smoosh a hazelnut into the sole of a shoe, I'd eat that. 

Matt's discussion about the origins of chocolate, accompanied by tasting small bits of different types of finished chocolates was really fun. My favorite of the ones we tasted was Amano's Dos Rios bar. That chocolate is OUT of CONTROL; it tastes like flowers, fruits, sparkles, and Samba music. 

I'm planning on going back for the advanced classes, where, I believe, we will be blindfolded and asked to identify the type of cocoa bean and soundly beaten with cured salamis if we answer incorrectly. People pay good money for that type of thing in Berlin.

I went with Kalli and we were extremely inappropriate, borderline disruptive, questionably filthy, and should really have been shamed from the room. Sorry, everyone. 

(Thank you, Janet.)

(Thank you, Caputo's Chocolates)

My Visit to Chico's

The Nordstrom closed.

You know if you need a new pair of Doc Marten shoes size 11, you can drive straight to Nordstrom and pick up a pair (I am not wearing Doc Martens, size 11, if that's what you're thinking.) Need a pair of tights or fishnets? Nordstrom will have some. Looking for undergarments and their pinnings? Nordstrom. It's not the kind of place where I go digging around to see what's new and interesting (I save that for TJ Maxx.) Nordstrom is the place you go when you know what you want, and you don't want to have to spend too much time and effort looking for it.

It's also the place you go when you have birthday money burning a hole in your pocket. You normally wouldn't shop Nordstrom because you think it's too expensive, although it probably isn't, but it just feels expensive when you walk in the door. Maybe you still feel guilty about your poor childhood and those times you shopped at thrift stores for real and even stepping foot inside Nordstrom is kind of like a betrayal of all the cautious frugality with which you were raised.

But then they closed the Nordstrom.

The existential questions are moot; you just no longer have a convenient, close place to shop.

All I wanted a simple rose gold-plated necklace. The nearest Nordstrom is 45 minutes away with zero traffic. No, thanks. I didn't want to go to Forever21 because I have this baby who will suck on my necklaces and I don't want her to get lead poisoning from the "jewelry."

Everyone knows that cheap jewelry is mostly lead that will first turn your baby stupid, and then eventually to a life of crime, culminating in lifelong incarceration in a maximum security federal prison that you'll be too tragic, poor and destitute to visit, even by bus, because your child sucked on your necklace, broke your heart, and all your retirement is going to pay for the legal fees. It was on 20/20, I think.

I was literally in the Nordstrom parking lot, staring at the shuttered doors from the safety of my car, hoping that all the rumors about the place closing were a great big joke from people who just wanted the place to themselves. This is not the case: the store was closed, closed, closed. Scared of all the poisonous, baby-ruining jewelry in the other mall stores, I needed somewhere else to search for a rose gold necklace.
(The irony is that I would never go to Nordstrom for their kids' clothes, because the Nordstrom kids buyer is on some sort of illegal street drug that results in the most awful kid clothes selection since ShopKo's 1987 Fall Collection.)

My eyes drifted away from the sad, shuttered Nordstrom doors, and landed on the freestanding Chico's. I could recall my Mother-in-Law exclaiming, "You've never been to Chico's? You'd love it!" as she held the door open for me to enter the Chico's in Florida, my first trip to this woman-of-a-certain-age shopping paradise. I'd been too preoccupied corralling the children at that first visit to do any real shopping, the women at Chico's having been so far past that stage that the idea that I would bring loud rug rats into their broomstick skirted-hallows was a personal and unending affront.

But I couldn't think of another store that might have unleaded jewelry at the ready, so with a sense of the inevitable and in defeated resignation, I went to Chico's.

Guys. Chico's. It's...not my scene? I was the youngest person in the store by 30 years. Impeccably dressed women with the kind of sun-etched skin behooving their matriarchal status. I tried to give it a chance. I pawed through the jewelry, looking for anything that was un-chunky. Something with a long, thin chain, it didn't even have to be rose gold, gold anything would do at this point. Nothing.

I turned to the clothes: I'm not a clothes snob, I'll buy anything from anywhere if it's cute and fits properly. Who knows, what if my new favorite thing in the world came from Chico's? I combed the racks and texted Noelle that I was in Chico's. "Did you see my mom in there?" she replied.
"I don't even know what I'm doing in here, I just wanted to go to Nordstrom."

They've invented their own sizing, so you have to do math (UGH) to figure out if you could wear something. I wandered around, trying to give the store a fair shake. Everything seemed awfully expensive and I was feeling more lost by the minute. I was quickly becoming the source of some excited chatter, "Are you aware of our sizing?" trilled one saleswoman, and then another. (I have not been more out of place in a store since that stumble into a Hot Topic some ten years ago, a trip that ended in coughs from the vinyl fume inhalation and the vague idea that nothing was nostalgic anymore as much as waiting to be commercialized for profit.) I wanly looked through the clearance section, wondering if the tiger stripe blouse could be a kicky addition, or just the last gasp of the Reagan White House. All I wanted was a gold necklace. All I wanted was to be able to go to Nordstrom and buy something with minimal fuss, maximal efficiency, and without dangerous metals.

Instead I left Chico's: dazed, confused, staring at my impending future, and without a single item.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noelle, "Just walked by Chico's and thought of you."


Me, "Anything cute? I know, like, the whole store."

Why Did Jenny Go to Hawaii?

Miss Lulu and I were headed to paradise, but I'd still need to work. I'm good with toting baby everywhere, but this trip to Hawaii required some time investment away from baby. Plus, baby deserved to keep her regular nap times no matter what big wig I'd be scheduled to interview--Miss Lulu is that important! We had to have someone come with us.

And who better than Jenny? She really loves kids!

May I recommend her as a traveling companion? Oh, good. 

Only next time I'd like to be on the same flight as my traveling companions so I don't end up holding Miss Lulu in a confined area for 12 hours of travel time each way and completely mess up my back. Ouch. Mama needs a lomi lomi.

What to Do at Aulani

Baby Shower

Noelle threw me a shower a few weeks ago, and it was incredible. Lindsey cooked the food and we ate until we 'esploded.

I thought that the shower started at 2:00, so I planned out my day carefully to make sure I arrived exactly on time. J came into the bathroom at 1:45 when I was drying my hair and said, "What time does your shower start?"

"2:00, why?"

"No, it doesn't, it started at 1:00."

Oh, Mylanta. 

An hour late to my own shower? RUDE. I felt awful. Some people had to leave early and I got to see them for 5 minutes. Stupid me. I think I gave Noelle a heart attack because I'd stopped looking at my phone while I was getting ready. In labor? In a car accident? No, just didn't know the time to my own shower.

The Loss of Two Loved Ones

Thursday night EG casually mentioned over the dinner table that his new, week-old soccer ball was stuck in a hedgerow. The little bully had tried to kick it over our neighbor's 14 foot tall hedges and the ball had disappeared. J immediately left the table and took EG with him to retrieve the ball. They arrived back home 15 minutes later, J in a mood and EG crying. No ball. "How could you let him take the ball out?" J asked me. "I didn't know that he wasn't supposed to take it," I responded.

So in my guilt, I took EG, my belly, our long rake, and walked over to the hedges. I spent an hour and a half poking every square inch of that row. All along the top on both sides, in the middle, on the bottom, parting and looking, with no success. By the end, I was covered in dirt, old evergreen pieces, dust, and scratches. I found three balls, two drink containers, an old bird's egg, a shoe, and a frisbee, but no soccer ball.

I walked over to the bully's house to ask his parents to come search, but no one answered. Because of course not. My scratches began to well up into hives. EG looked 4 shades tanner from the dirt that coated him. I drew a bath and went to go find him a towel. When I went back into the bathroom, the tub was almost full and he was sitting between the tub and the toilet...
with my phone
on the edge of the tub
trying to unlock it.

I screamed.
He looked up, tried to grab the phone, and accidentally pushed it into the tub.
I screamed again.
I screamed some more.
I panicked.

J took over EG's bath. 

Phone insurance comes with a deductible, did you know that? And did you know that if your deductible is more than the phone is actually worth the insurance company doesn't care? It could be that the insurance company is even in the middle of a class action lawsuit for trying to make people pay more in a deductible than the phones are worth. But none of this will help you. So you call T-Mobile back and when the nice customer service girl answers, you might start crying. Which means they send you to Customer Care and give you a brand new, much nicer phone for almost the same price as the deductible.

The next day when EG asked me to text his friend's mom to ask if he could play, I got to say, "I can't."
"Why?"
"Remember when you drowned my phone?"
"Oh."
Proximo helpfully reminded me that I could just go get a new phone at the phone store.
"I hope they take pies," I thought to myself.

A couple months ago I had a funny feeling that did not turn out to be heartburn or my usual cocktail of guilt: time to start backing up my computer. My laptop stores all my work, my music, and years worth of my kids' pictures. I signed up for one of those automatic online backup deals.

So when my hard drive died on Friday and Saturday, I was frustrated, but not devastated, and there is a difference, I tell you what. Nick came over to my house Saturday night and gave me the diagnosis. He also offered to help me get it all up and running again, which is why he is going to win at life. Go buy his wife's album.


My phone and my laptop in 24 hours.

Oh man. It's like I'm a pioneer. A pioneer who has to use my husband's tower and barter for computer time. A pioneer who has to use her land line! (Only it's not really a land line, it's VOIP.) I'm trying to treat this constant downtime with some appreciation. Don't people preach all the time about unplugging and living in the moment? Well, I don't approve. Not being able to Google/tweet/calendar/text/call everything, all the time, and immediately, stinks. If I wanted to be in an old-timey re-enactment, I would have signed up for one.

Justin Hackworth Takes My Picture

I don't remember when I first met Justin. Maybe at a dinner party? Was it at a conference? It just seems like the Hackworths seamlessly entered my life at some point and that was the end of it.

Last week Justin asked if he could take my picture.

Uh, yes.

So I bundled myself off to his office. Even though the address could not have been simpler, I got myself thoroughly lost. It took me an extra 20 minutes to figure out where I was and where I needed to be. I have no idea, gang, blame the baby.

Look! You can see the baby!

Do I look almost 6 months pregnant? Good. Because I am.

I have so many beautiful pictures now, I had trouble picking the ones to put in this post.

Someone told me (it was Justin) that Justin is giving away wedding photos! If you're engaged or know someone who is, maybe you should pop over to Stephanie's blog and enter--I think there are only hours to go!

Otherwise, Justin is taking headshots all the time, and you can book yours here.

Thanks for taking my picture, J!

Morgan's Holiday Essentials!

My friend Morgan has put together an online studio filled with all kinds of great holiday essentials. If you're one of those people (you know who you are) who needs a step-by-step tutorial on crafts and recipes, plus actual help from an actual person, I'm pretty sure you need to check this out.

Sometimes when I say "My friend" what I mean is my Internet friend, or someone who I met once at an event. This is not the case with Morgan.

I've known Morgan since she was my "cool" friend in Junior High; she always had the slickest bolo ties, the best taste in music, and had mastered the art of liquid liner years before the rest of us. We might have also had some serious fights over certain boys. (Didn't you tell me to stay away from a boy because he was YOURS, Morgan?) I heart you.

Anyway, away with you, nervous crafters and wanters of holiday help, Morgan is here to save your day.

Fortune Favors the Grateful

My Loves,

Did you know your prayers, candles, and Budda-bellies worked? Consider yourselves officially part of a miracle. Thank you.

In point of supernatural fact, this whole week has been full of small graces and kind wonders. Wednesday was full of bounty: from Izzes dropped by the manse, to people dropping everything to make a child's Christmas unforgettable. The devastation we see all around us, the mire of this world, is lightened by how we care for each other. You have cared for me.

And did I mention the Marvel of the Red Lentils? I made red lentil soup and the children had three helpings a piece? It was a phenomenon of the first order; I'm submitting to the Vatican.

(Smoked ham hocks simmered for an hour in water. Saute carrots, celery, onion, turmeric, pimenton [smoked paprika] in a little olive oil. Pour the ham broth in with the veggies, add two cups of red lentils. Take the meat off the hocks and add back into the soup. Season with salt and pepper. You could sub a holiday ham bone for the hocks.)

And now, to pass along the love, the Lower Lights Winner:

Single Pot Josh! You're the winner! Now all you need is hope against all reason that I'll go to the post office someday.

I hope your Thanksgiving was even more lucky than mine.

My friends - The Lower Lights!

If you haven't heard of The Lower Lights it's probably because that rock you've been under was far more expansive than we had all figured.

I was sold on The Lower Lights when I heard that Mindy Gledhill, Deb Fotheringham, and Scott Wiley were involved. I love American traditional music, and to hear hymns, traditional and LDS, stripped down to their purest melodies and harmonies, I was sold again. So basically, I bought The Lower Lights twice. Worth every penny. I blast the hymns full force after Sunday services while I rustle up grub for the little ones. Your individual usage may vary.

Want a peek into the making of? I found this video on the YouTubes!



And what do I have for you? A hot little copy! Happy holidays! No need to get me something in return (although I never turn down a gift.) Leave me a comment and I'll pick one of you lucky souls--and Heaven knows our souls need saving--to take your own Lower Lights home.

*****CONTEST CLOSED*********

Adventures in Music Appreciation

the scowl in its natural state

Deb Fotheringham sweetly offered me a couple tickets to her Time EP release party, to be held at a location inside my ten-minute radius. I decided that this happy occasion would be the perfect night to take El Guille to his first music show. When I giddily told him the news, he scowled at me. This isn’t terribly different than when I suggest anything in the world to him that isn’t what he’s doing right now: from eating his dinner to changing his behavior. (It’s the same disbelieving scowl I probably project when you tell me The Cheesecake Factory is good.)

We arrived at the auditorium and found aisle seats. The opening act was an earnest singer-songwriter accompanying himself on guitar. The first song was a lovely tune, sung quietly yet with feeling. “I’m bored,” E.G. said halfway through.
“Shhh,” I whispered. The song ended and we all clapped. The singer started his next song.
“HEY. NOT THE SAME SONG AGAIN. HE ALREADY PLAYED THIS,” noted E.G., the subtleties of a solo artist falling on unappreciative ears.
“How much longer do we have to sit here?”
“Until it’s over.”
“I want to watch Clone Wars.”
“It’s not on until 8:30, and it’s only 7:15 right now.”
“THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG.”
“Shhh.”
“I’m going to go get a drink.”
“You can’t, see how they shut the doors? They don’t want you to go in and out.”
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“I can find it myself!”
“It’s probably a good idea if I...”
“NO! I’m really good at finding things. See ya.” And he left the auditorium. After a few minutes he slid back into the room. “I can’t find it,” he declared, which was when I had to slide out. I didn’t dare take him back into the auditorium so I watched him run around the installations and play with the drinking fountain. He nearly careened into Deb as she tried to center herself before the performance. I talked him into returning to our seats by promising that he could watch Star Wars: The Clone Wars for the very first time that night IF he sat quietly for Deb’s show. I immediately handed over my phone so he could play Pac-Man.

Now, were I you (single, childless, possessed of respect for the performing arts,) I would have made a disgusting face at this kind of parenting. A cell phone? Yes. But they’re so bright and tacky! Yes, but really, Pac-Man is on a black background so not that bright. They are loud! It was on silent. Shoving a screen in front of your child, it’s just lazy! Yup, lazy and desperate. And really, how dare you bring a child to a concert who would misbehave? I had to try it one time. I hope you learned your lesson. That I did. No more shows until he is at least 8, or Mötley Crüe comes to town.


In Summary:


Deb is really pretty, did you know that? If your name is Nick, you probably did. She’s also one of eleven children, did you know that? Chances are you’re related to a Fotheringham by this point. She’s also funny and endearing on stage, which, as it turns out, is kind of how Deb is when she’s not on stage. Deb also does this. I really like her music; it’s on heavy rotation in the car (especially track one--what’s that one called, Deb? Paris?) Next time I won’t bring someone who has a permanent scowl attached to his face, who keeps asking me when we can leave because he doesn’t want to miss The Clone Wars, who rolls his eyes and makes choking noises during songs, and would have been happier surrounded by Legos instead of culture.

Not that Legos aren’t culture.

Oh, you know what I mean.

Date My Friend: Tiffany Edition

Once upon a time I met a girl when I was attending university. She and I met in a computer lab, and we've basically spent the rest of our lives in the professional equivalent of computer labs. I owe my career to her, and that's no joke.

We used to go to bookstores and hole up; reading novel after novel. We shared every book and still do. She's one of the smartest people I know, and that's saying something.

We spend hours together laughing and talking, we never run out of things to say. If it's a terrible movie, we'll see it together. Dancing, theater, opera, she's my other date.

And when I'm feeling sporty she's my girl. We watch baseball, go to football games, play softball, hit the links, love the World cup.

I know every dark little secret of hers and she knows all of mine. And we still like each other.

Seven years ago she married a guy and a couple years after that, he left. Ask me how much I like him. After that whole thing, I got my friend back.

But now? She's ready. She's ready to find someone else to date. Someone that isn't me. I mean, I'm awesome, but I'm not that kind of awesome (and I'm spoken for, step off.)

Would you like to go on a date with Tiffany? Know someone else who would? She's a good time, I'll tell you what.

Here's what you should be:
1. Awesome. Duh.
2. Employed
3. Spontaneous. Really.
4. Love life
5. Smart
6. Alternately, not be intimidated by a smart girl
7. Be OK with a girl that is successful
8. A nice person
9. Able to pass my test (number two pencils only)
10. Funny

11. A sometime book reader
12. Older than 26, younger than 46

Some things you might like to know about Tiffany:
1. She used to own an art gallery
2. She wishes she could draw, but she can't
3. She's a dancer, a really good one
4. Loves music
5. She's unfailingly generous
6. So, so smart
7. Logical, but not annoying about it
8. Wicked good golfer
9. Is always on the go
10. She speaks French
11. She grew up in Texas and when she gets angry, the twang comes back
12. Pretty blue eyes and dark brown hair
13. She's five feet tall but wears 5 inch heels
14. Takes her steak rare (See: Texas)

15. Has a great and ready laugh


Drop me a line, I can hook you up with Her Hotness.



Need another testimonial and never before seen picture? Make the clicky here.

Untipsy Tuesday: Brazilian Lemonade

I first imbibed this drink at our local churrasco joint. It was like falling into delicious, sweet, tart love. I knew the main ingredient had to be sweetened condensed milk (which might save civilization if we let it) and some sort of citrus.

What I didn't know, until my friend Miggy spilled the beans, is that the process is as important as the ingredients.

So in honor of Miggy and her sweet new baby and for the arrival of summer heat....

Brazilian Lemonade

5-8 limes
1 can of sweetened condensed milk
20 ounces of water

A GOOD blender
A strainer
A pitcher


Cut the limes in half, juice them a little into the blender, but not thoroughly, add the halved lime carcasses to the blender. You can quarter your limes if your blender is weak. Pour in the can of sweetened condensed milk (be careful not to cut your tongue if you attempt to lick the top of the tin.) Add about a large glass of water. The amount of water doesn't matter right now, just leave a couple inches of room in the blender for expansion. BLEND THAT SUCKER.

Action shot!

The whole thing, rinds and all, until as smooth as possible. See, the blender extracts all those lovely essential oils in the rind.

Pour the concoction through the strainer into the pitcher in a couple batches, pressing the pulp for maximum flavor. Discard the pulp as you go.

Add another 20 ounces of water, or so, to the pitcher. The mocktail should be like milky water, not thick. Taste it. Too strong? Add more water. Too sweet? Add more lime juice. Serve over ice.

And unlike other drinks or mocktails, when the ice melts, the Brazilian lemonade is even more refreshing.

Garnish ideas:
Lime slice (duh)
Mint (if you have it)
Spearmint (if you have that but not mint)

NO GARNISH (because you live on the edge and need no such frippery)

Addition ideas:
Cream of coconut
Grapefruit chunks
Lemon chunks

Go, make, and fast!

EVO Conference Day Two: Wherein I Confess To The Fuzz

There was no revenge. I didn’t have it in me. I’m all talk.

When Jyl first described the keynote topic for Friday morning as social med

ia for causes I was indifferent. How foolish was I? Extremely. The Utah Make-a-Wish foundation addressed us, covering how social media and the Internet has changed the way the entire Make-a-Wish organization functions. In case you were unaware, Make-a-Wish helps sick children fulfill a personal Wish. You might think Wishes are all trips to Disneyland, and you’d be wrong. One kid wanted a corral in his backyard. One girl worked with a veterinarian for a day. Another boy got to “save” Seattle as a superhero--with hundreds of volunteers and a call from Spider-man. Wishes that used to take months to fulfill can now, with the help of social media and the Internet in general, be accomplished in days (Prince doesn’t know what the crap he’s talking about.)

The description of Wish-granting and how it changed the lives of these children left me in ruins. I wasn’t alone; there was not a dry eye in the house. People were sobbing in their seats. I got up and left the ballroom, found a bowl of napkins left from breakfast, and returned with a stack to hand out; it was brutal and incredible at the same time. The last half of the keynote was the Williams family, who brought their little girl Eliza, and talked about the difference the Make-a-Wish foundation made in their lives when her Wish of a Birthday Party was granted. Unreal. You couldn’t have kept it together either. Afterward, we went into a working session with the Utah Make-a-Wish where we came up with ideas of how they could improve their online presence and increase donations. That was really great, actually, hive mind wins.

That afternoon I attended the food blogging class. Allison has been begging me to start a food blog and I’ve been countering that I really do not have the time. The workshop did not help my cause because I had a ridiculously fun time. My roommate Helen did a marvelous job with her presentation. I spent an hour in the kitchen with Chef Clement learning how to cure and smoke a salmon.

Under his instruction we made grilled flatbread with creme fraiche, cured salmon, garnished with eggs, scallion, and caviar. Insanely delicious. I made Stephmodo take a bite and it accidentally spilled on her. I felt bad about that. Or did I like it? You decide (sorry Stephanie.)

picture taken by Jane but of my hand and creation

Later that night a few of us went for a cruise in the MKT that Lincoln lent Jane for the trip. I called shotgun because a new fancy car like that would certainly have an iPod jack, leaving me in control of the music. And did I ever control! I spun that wheel! Hip-hop, gangsta rap, Def Leppard, Justin Bieber, there was no limit to the selection! (Bieber was Kami’s selection.) At the end of Park City, we noticed a cop tailing us. After about a mile his lights went on and pulled us over. There was a rapid scramble to turn off the Tupac.

“Out having fun ladies?” he asked, flashing his light into the cabin. “I noticed you were hugging the white line.”

“Yes,” said a chorus of voices.

“Well, I don’t smell anything,” he said.

“We’re Mormons!” someone said.

“We don’t get out much!” said Allison,

“And this is water!” I contributed, raising the plastic cup with its pathetic condensation.

Immediately Marie asked if she could take his picture for Twitter. The officer shut down, completely refusing, and asked for Jane’s license and registration. We nervously waited for his return.

“Did you know that you have a warrant out for your arrest?” He asked. “Have you done anything you want to tell me about?”

“I got a speeding ticket two days ago,” Jane responded, her eyes widening in panic, “I thought I had more time to pay it!”

“I’m just messing with you,” he said, and waved us off with a wink and a smile.

EVO Conference - Day One - I Manipulate My Friends

I’m going to cut through the obvious suspense: I drove up to EVO conference in Park City without incident. People like to make a big deal out of my awesome driving skills, but I don’t think we should dwell on too many superlatives (makes me look like I have a deficit of humility.)

I wrote down a list of things I needed to bring on my trip. Write is a strong word. Emailed myself is a better way of expressing what actually happened. And, as is the case with most of my organizational efforts, I failed in the execution. This is a convoluted way of saying that I left my business cards at home. I cashed in all my favors with Tiffany, and asked her to to go to my house, find my cards in the vortex of refuse that is my desk, and drive them up to Park City. That she decided to make this drive at midnight is not my fault. I love her. (Stay tuned for more Tiffany on July 15th.)

At the opening dinner, I sat next to Phread and Stacie. (Side note: I can’t take catered events seriously after watching Party Down.) The server set a plate in front of me and one in front of Phread. I picked up her plate and scraped all the green olives off her chicken without saying a word to either of my dining companions. Listen, when you’re out to dinner with me I get to choose what you eat. And because Phread hates olives. I managed to contain my disruptive tendencies during the opening keynote. Honestly, this is Twitter’s number one job: distract me so I don’t make scenes in public. I’m like a toddler, I guess.

After dinner the party really got going with dueling pianos. Yes, they were talented, but I couldn’t help but collapse into giggles thinking up all the inappropriate songs they should play. The duelists had laptops on their pianos. They were looking at the lyrics. Isn't that cheating?

Later that night, I met my roommates in our huge suite: Kami, Allison, Marie, Helen, Jane, and AWOL Alma. This was when I was able to properly express my gushing love for Helen and her fantastic blog Tartelette. Well, I think it’s fantastic, people who are challenged by baked goods in box-form might be a smidge intimidated. (People! Don’t be! Also stop buying baked goods in box-forms because they taste mainly of cardboard and the death of your grandmother's soul!)

In a mind-control scheme that has me ready to take on the world, I manipulated all my roommates into adopting my sleep schedule: 2am-7:30am. When they actually arose at 7:30, I couldn’t believe it! And I was also annoyed! I don’t need to wake up at 7:30am! I am on a vacation/at a conference! Too late.

I would soon get my revenge.....

Justin Hackworth's Show Tonight (In Case You've Been Living Under a Rock)

Justin Hackworth's 30 Strangers in 30 Days (2010) opens tonight.

(Hey Spooner, love this picture of you.)

Hackworth took the portraits of mothers, sisters, and grandmothers whom he'd never met. In lieu of a sitting fee, each donated to the Women and Children in Crisis Center. Which is very cool. The shelter is in a secret location to protect the abused and neglected in our community who need a refuge. It's a charity that I've supported over the years and that is incredibly important to me.

During the show, you could have your picture taken by Justin and also make your donation to the shelter.

You know, for kids.

6:00pm
26 West Center Street
Provo

See you there? Yes?

Untipsy Day of the Week: Wild Irish Rose

Today's mocktail comes from loyal and tireless Jet Set reader The Redhead. She recommends the Wild Irish Rose:

Ginger ale
Grenadine
Lime juice
Garnish with lime

Stir and enjoy!

(Command form.)

CHD - Adrienne and Cali's Story

Almost six  months ago my friend and neighbor Adrienne had her first baby, a little girl named Cali. Her birth was different than most because Adrienne and Thomas knew that Cali would be born with a congenital heart defect. A team was assembled to help Cali receive the critically important attention and surgeries she would need to survive. Even though heroic efforts were made, sweet baby Cali lived only a week. You can read more about Cali's brief sojourn on this earth here.

Adrienne involved herself in the cause of congenital heart defect (CHD) awareness, and through her efforts, February 7th-14th has been declared CHD Awareness Week in the state of Utah.

In recognition of CHD, Adrienne suggested a few ways to get involved:

Talk to friends, neighbours about your experience with CHD
Give blood (Cali received many blood transfusions)
Volunteer at a local Children's Hospital
Donate financially to one of the many worthy organizations here.
Buy a CHD Awareness Week Pin for $5 at http://tchin.org/pins/ & wear it!
Change your Facebook profile picture to one of the CHD Awareness Stock Photos
Wear red for CHD week and tell others why you're wearing it
Use your Facebook/ Twitter Status to talk about CHD Awareness
Become friends with CHD Awareness Week 2010 (Official) on Facebook
Hand out Pamphlets on CHDs (contact me if you'd like some!)
Wear a CHD Awareness sticker (Contact me if you'd like some!)
If you participated in the Heart Walk in September, you could wear your Tshirt!
If you're in Utah:
Paul Cardall benefit concert 

The Paul Cardall benefit concert will be held on Monday, February 15th, 2010, 7:30pm at Abravanel Hall in Salt Lake.

Organizing the declaration of CHD Week is such an amazing accomplishment, I'm so proud to say I know Adrienne! To take such a devastating personal tragedy and create something positive that transcends the experience is incredibly inspiring.

Maple Lane

My friend Lindy is selling her lovely home on Maple Lane.

It's Maple Lane. Can you even? I feel like we should all be making pies, wearing aprons, writing novels in our copious free time, petting the beagle, lighting sparklers, listening to grandpa tinker in the garage, watching the clouds, putting on a parade, you know, like this is freaking AMERICA.

Holy cow.

That house.

Too late to move?

Someone should buy it. Someone who will still invite me to lunch and cut me dinner plate dahlias to take with me when I go back to my house with the no garden.

Merry Christmas to You

My readers are funny people. Generally, you're all an erudite and clever crowd.

Some of you just get the jump on others.

Like when Noelle drove to the Jet Set Pad this afternoon right as I pulled in from last minute errands.

She handed me this:

Oh yes. She is a clever, clever girl.

(And you ALL wish you'd thought of it first.)

"I can't believe it's just candy cane," she laughed as she handed it to me.

"I'll prove it, let's open it right now," I giggled. So we did and then we sampled.

Yes, it really, really is just smashed candy canes.

Behold the power of marketing.

Very funny, Noelle.

Very funny.

Thanks for reading, gang, it's a trip just sharing these silly thoughts and have anyone read them.

Merry Christmas and crushed candy canes for all!