Girls' Camp

My last year as a girl at girls' camp was 1996. Here are a couple pictures from back in the day:


Dalene and I on our 3-day hike during our 4th year at camp


That's me behind the David Letterman mask. It was my last year at camp and I was one of the emcees for campfire (which was held in the dining hall because it was raining)

After I finished my time at camp as a girl, I always talked about going back to camp as a leader. Due to school/mission/work/scheduling conflicts, it never happened. Until this year. I finally made it back to girls' camp and I had a great time! I was the activities person and my job at camp consisted of teaching the girls to shoot BB guns, like so:




Being a staff member was much different than being a girl. I enjoyed eating first and not having to sing for my meal. I also enjoyed sleeping in a tent. It totally beats sleeping outside (as demonstrated by the fact that I only came home with two mosquito bites and neither were on my face). I didn't have to worry about any hikes or learn first aid. In fact, this time around, I helped teach first aid. And, as staff, I got to interact with lots of different girls of all different ages. Of course, there were some things that were similar to my experience as a girl. I got to meet new people from other wards and I made new friends. And, there was the Staff-YCL ABC challenge. Even though I was on the other end of it this time around, I learned that I still got it! And, whether you're staff or youth, the bathrooms are gonna suck. After 13 years, I had forgotten about many aspects of the girls' camp experience and my memories had started to fade. But, throughout my week at girls' camp, it all came back to me (cue Celine Dion) and I remembered what a great time I had at girls' camp and what a good experience it was for me. Of course, by the end of the week I was ready to come home and take a nice, hot shower in my nice, clean bathroom and get a good night's rest in my nice, soft bed. But, I had a great time and hopefully all of the girls did, too. Hooray for girls' camp!


The Lawrence Station Ward Young Women and Leaders at camp

Birthday Party Fun and the Fruits of my Labors

I'm a little behind on my posting. I've been at girls' camp for the last week (which post is forthcoming) and just got back yesterday, so now I will try to catch up on what's been going on.

I will take any excuse to throw a party. And I figured that turning 30 was a more than adequate excuse. So, we decided to have some birthday party fun on my birthday weekend. I figured a theme party would be fun and, as a nod to my early days, I settled on an 80's party. We got some decorations in great 80's colors (teal, magenta, and gray), we had some good 80's food (Doritos, Capri Sun, Pop Rocks, Chicken Nuggets), and we had 80's music playing in the background. A birthday party is not complete without party games, so we had an 80's trivia game, a name that 80's TV show theme music game, pin the glove on Michael (may his soul rest in peace), and a thriller dance contest. The prizes were classic 80's movies. We had a great time and loved to see everyone dressed up in their 80's best. Here are a few pictures:


Mr. Frisby and I, ready to get down!


Girls just wanna have fun!


Pin the glove on Michael


Dancing along to the Thriller video

In other news, I'm starting to enjoy the fruits of my gardening labors. As you can see from this picture, my garden is growing (for a comparison, see this post):



My cucumber plants are getting big and I've noticed a few flowers on them. Tomatoes are coming and even starting to get ripe. My one surviving pepper plant is growing.



And my pea plants are growing peas! When I left for camp, I had two sugar snap peas getting ripe on the vine. When I came home, I saw there was one more. I picked the two peas that were ripe and Mr. Frisby and I partook last night. They were divine!


Hooray for home-grown veggies!

Mr. Frisby Bakes

On Wednesday night, I came home from Young Women's to this beautiful sight in the kitchen:



What would prompt Mr. Frisby to don an apron (and not just any apron, but an apron of such caliber) and spend hours (and I mean HOURS) in the kitchen? My birthday, that's what. A little background: Three years ago, before Mr. Frisby and I were even engaged (though not long before), my birthday was drawing near. My favorite dessert ever is Strawberry Baumkuchen Torte and I typically request that bit of heaven from my mom for my birthday dessert. My parents were going to be out of town and I thought I would have no one to make it for me for my birthday. Enter Mr. Frisby, who was not actually Mr. Frisby then, but just Jared. So, as Jared was still trying to woo me and convince me that he was marriage material (ok, fine, I was already convinced - but it makes for a better story!), he talked my mom into teaching him how to make the torte (which is actually a very complicated dessert and literally takes hours to make) so he could make it for me for my birthday in my mom's absence. The teaching session was planned and I came home one evening to find Jared in my mom's kitchen mixing, stirring, baking, and frosting away under Leah's careful tutelage. Instructions were given and followed and the teaching session was a success. A few weeks later, Jared made the torte again, all by himself, for my birthday. He did a great job and tastiness ensued. The following year, Jared and I were newly married and my parents had just left for their mission. Mr. Frisby came through again in my mom's absence and made me the torte for my birthday. So, as my birthday approached this year and my parents were still on their mission, Mr. Frisby once again stepped up to the plate for the third year in a row. He planned to make the torte the night before so it could chill overnight and we could enjoy it on my birthday. So, when I came home on Wednesday night and saw him working away, I decided I better document the love (he thought he would be okay without the apron to finish up the decorating, but the chocolate on his shirt when he finished said otherwise).





With a little practice under his belt, I think this was Mr. Frisby's best torte yet.



Thank you, Mr. Frisby! Birthday tastiness = Love!

McGriddles

This morning, Jared went to McDonald's to get me a Bacon, Egg, and Cheese Biscuit for breakfast for my birthday. Unfortunately, the McDonald's man screwed up and Jared came home with Bacon, Egg and Cheese McGriddles instead without knowing it. I had never tried a McGriddle before this morning. Firstly, because I never go to McDonald's for breakfast and, secondly, because when I do go to McDonald's for breakfast, I get the bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit because it's the tastiest. I had never given much thought to a McGriddle until there was one sitting in front of me. And then my thoughts went something like this: "That bacon, egg, and cheese is sandwiched between pancakes. That doesn't sound very good. Who puts bacon, egg, and cheese with pancakes? Biscuits are much better." But, there was the McGriddle, so I gave it a try. Again, I do not know much about McGriddles, but upon biting into it, I found out another little tidbit about them. There are pockets of syrup within the little pancakes. As if putting bacon, eggs, and cheese with pancakes isn't bad enough, now you're going to add syrup? Now that I have given some thought to McGriddles, here's what I've come up with. They're gross. Bacon, eggs and cheese do not belong between two syrup-infused pancakes. We each took a bite of our McGriddle and, after experiencing the disgustingness, promptly took the bacon, eggs, and cheese out and ate it by itself. I couldn't even eat the pancakes by themselves because I don't like syrup. I grew up thinking that peanut butter and jelly on pancakes was perfectly normal because that's how my family eats them. So, I rather think that the McGriddle should go. I want my bacon, eggs, and cheese between biscuits where they belong. And whoever came up with the idea of the McGriddle should be fired. And the kid who screwed up my birthday breakfast should be shot!

Address Labels

My mom gets TONS of address labels in the mail (I'm house-sitting - I'm allowed to go through her mail). You know, the free ones sent by charities to try to get you to donate money. When I got the mail today, naturally there was another thick envelope for my mom full of address labels. I opened them up and threw them in the growing stack of address labels that have been building up while my parents are gone. I don't usually pay that much attention since it's such a frequent occurrence, but as I threw them in the stack, I noticed that these address labels were from the March of Dimes. I thought to myself, "I thought they just got some from the March of Dimes." So, I checked through the stack and, sure enough, near the top was another set of labels from the March of Dimes. So, I looked through the stack a little more and realized that my mom gets a set of address labels from the March of Dimes every month. Not a big deal, you say? I counted the address labels on the most recent set. 74 labels. The March of Dimes thinks my mom is going to mail 74 letters a month? Now, I'm not trying to singe out the March of Dimes - it just happened to be the charity that I noticed. This scenario is repeated with several other charities as well. I'm also not trying to diminish the convenience of address labels - they're awesome. I use my mom's frequently and just cross out her name (yep - you remember my Christmas card). But, 74 labels per month? That's 888 per year. Who sends that much mail? Now add to that the labels she and my dad get from other charities and my parents receive several thousand address labels in the span of about a year. Maybe that money could be used more wisely. It would be comforting to know that as much of your donation as possible is actually being used for the cause to which you are contributing instead of for their marketing and solicitation materials. Just a thought. Call me crazy.