Remembering the pageant....and Donny

It was exactly two years ago at this very moment that my family was back east in New York. We were deep in our practices for the Hill Cumorah Pageant which was (and is again) going to start in 3 days. 
We had the. time. of. our. lives. So much so, that we applied to be in the pageant again this year. But alas, it wasn't meant to be this time around (over 3000 applicants for 600 spots). So here I sit and home, thinking of everyone back there right now, thinking of the excitement in the air, thinking of the hot and humid practices on the hill, thinking of all our amazing experiences two years ago.


After we returned from the pageant, I posted about one of our experiences. It was one with a Mr. Donny Osmond. You may have heard of him. I've had a few people ask me to re-post it, and since the pageant is on my mind a lot lately, AND I have yet to recover from this...unfortunate experience, here it is again:

Several years ago, when we were living in Nebraska, I read in the Lincoln newspaper that Donny Osmond would be performing a special run of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in Salt Lake City. (Honestly, I have no idea why anyone thought people in Lincoln, Nebraska even cared that Donny Osmond was performing 3 states away.)

Anyhoo, I turned to John and said, "I'm going to Utah for this, you can come if you want but I am going." Being the supportive guy he is, he begrudgingly agreed to accompany me.

So, we flew out to Utah to see Donny. As Joseph. In a loincloth.

He was awesome and amazing and glorious and all that good stuff.

FYI, the rumor is true. I couldn't sleep that night after the show. I had just seen:
Donny Osmond.
Live.
In. A. Loincloth.
People, do you understand me here?!

Fast forward 12 years to July 2010. The place is the Hill Cumorah in Palmyra, New York and our family is there because we are in the pageant (a massive outdoor stage production about Christ and The Book of Mormon). As were were getting ready for the show one night, I kept over-hearing people saying "Donny Osmond this, and Donny Osmond that." I finally asked someone why everyone was talking about Donny. The answer was, "Oh! You don't know?! He's here. Tonight. In the audience."

*Instant meltdown*

Donny Osmond was here, in my presence. He was going to watch me (ME!) dance the "Wicked Jerusalem Harlot Dance" on a stage.

Oh, sweet tender mercy.

Every night after our performance we would have a devotional that started at 11:05 p.m. (I know, :05? It's true.) I got thinking about the situation and I just had this gut feeling that Donny would come talk to us at our devotional. Of course he would....why would he NOT? He was in this pageant once. He used to be one of us. So I ran to the Study Shelter (a covered pavilion on the side of the Hill Cumorah where our devotionals were held) and I threw my backpack on the seats front and center so I could reserve the best seats in the house.

Boy, am I smart.

Donny came to the devotional. And his wife and his youngest son. And he stood right in front of me (ME!). He talked to us for about 15 minutes. He was charming and handsome (although a leeetle bit into himself, but oh well!). He made eye contact with me (ME!) several times! I think I took 108 pictures* of him. I wonder how he felt having my big ol' camera right in his face clicking away while he spoke.

(Actually, I think he liked it.)

He finished speaking and the closing prayer was said. The very micro-second that the word "amen" was uttered, the entire cast and crew of over 600 people swarmed Donny, like a pack of ravenous wolves going in for the kill. I thought, "I don't care, I'll wait here all night if I have to, just to get my picture with him."

There I stood, watching him, thinking of all the glorious things that Donny and I were going to talk about; we would talk about how great he was on Dancing with the Stars (even though I never actually watched him on DWTS, I could tell him that I heard he was really good!). He would in turn tell me how great I danced on that Hill Cumorah stage and how my shimmies, undulations, and come-hithers were nothing less than the best shimmies, undulations, and come-hithers he had ever seen.

Oh yes, it would be a glorious conversation.

Me and Donny.

My dreamy thoughts were suddenly broken by the sound of my husband's voice, "Come on, let's go! Now's the perfect time to get out of the parking lot while everyone else is in here!"
Suddenly, my dreams of meeting Donny Osmond dropped like a half-ton chunk of lead and shattered violently on the concrete floor.

I replied, "But...but...I just want my picture with him."

John looked at me for a few seconds then said, "Well....you can have your picture taken with me."

How was I supposed to argue with that?

So we left. Right then and there. And I am okay with that. I am okay that I passed on the a chance-in-a-lifetime to meet THE Donny Osmond. My one and only chance.

Ever.

I left.

I left while everyone else in the pageant stayed and mingled with Donny, took pictures with him, laughed with him, and probably partied all night and had the time of their lives with him! I really am okay that I didn't get to do all that. Because, you know, we were able to drive right out of that parking lot without having to wait behind one. single. car.
And that's got to be worth....something.

I. AM. OKAY.

I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm..........




There was a kid on the front row who had no idea who Donny was. Had never heard of him. Here Donny is telling the young man to leave the room.


With his son and wife, Debbie, singing "The Song of Cumorah."


The hungry wolves.

* The statement that I took 108 photos of Donny Osmond is a slight exaggeration, used for dramatic purposes only. I didn't actually take 108 photos, it was less.

Or more.

Prom

Haylie went on her first date four months ago.

It was to her high school Sweetheart's Dance with her friend, Ty.

I had every intention, being the-good-and-faithful-mother-that-I-long-to-be, to post pictures on the blog.

I took a LOT of pictures. And some mighty fine ones at that. But, alas, it wasn't meant to be. My life got in the way.  

(Pshhht. Life. Sometimes I wish it would just leave me alone.)

Then came Prom in March. Her second date. Again, with her friend, Ty.

Trying even harder to be the-mother-I-want-to-be, I almost got the pictures from Prom posted THAT VERY NIGHT! I was feeling mighty proud of myself.  I'd say even a bit...puffed up. Pompous, perhaps.

But then something else got in my way...

...Downton Abbey.

(I *heart* D.A.)

But now I've had to mournfully say goodbye for a season to Ladies Mary, Edith, and Sybil.  And to (the kind) Mr. Bates, (the evil) O'Brian, and (the utterly handsome) Matthew. *thud*

So, now that I have all this new-found free time, I gleefully present:

Haylie and Ty. And the Prom.

The dress. 

Haylie entered a facebook contest with David's Bridal, and uh, ya, she won. And this dress was the prize. Pretty pretty, eh?

(I added the sleeves because there is someone on this planet who decided that
NO PROM DRESS SHOULD EVER BE SOLD WITH SLEEVES ON IT! I want to hunt this person down. And slap them.)

No jewelry? No problemo.
A last-minute drive to Target (at mach 8.7) solved that little predicament.

 The boutonniere pinning. I do believe that Ty is blushing!

The neighbors (and their cameras) came out of the woodwork for the big event. 

 Oh, and look! There's Julie! Julie likes to pose for my pictures. Like here (click).

 I luuv Ty's white tux. And Chad and his date looked pretty awesome, too.

 Awww.

 Leaving our house to go pick up the rest of the group.

  

 

 "Bye, Haylie! You look so cute through Ty's window."

And look at Ty! What a great guy, putting on his seat belt and all. Safety first!

Now, these two ladies had NO IDEA what SURPRISE was waiting for them at the next house.

And that surprise was this little beauty:

As soon as the kids left our house, Ty's family and I jumped in our cars and sped over to where the limo was parked so that we could get a few shots of the whole group. The kids were all inside the house taking pictures and didn't know we were outside.

(We are really clever people, you see.)

As we stood out front waiting, suddenly, someone got the idea that a few of us should get 

INSIDE the limo and surprise Haylie and Ty when they got in. 

The idea was brill.  Absolutely brill.

(This was my first time ever in a limousine, and I. was. excited.  However, after climbing in, I must say I was a leetle bit disappointed. Hello! Where was the swimming pool? Srsly, people! I've always thought limos had swimming pools in them.)

(But not this one. Noooo. These boys must have ordered the "budget" limo.)

(Lame-o limo.)

(Psshht.)

(And psshht again.)

I believe these glasses were for water. Or Sprite. A cold root beer, perhaps.

 Jordan and Lindsay, Ty's cute sibs, just relaxin' in all that luxury. 

(Check out that groovy mirror on the ceiling!)

 

Oh, here they come! They are SO CLUELESS to our clever little plan.

(Call me Paparazzo Maryanne, taking secret photos through the window of the limo.)

 

Hehehe. Watching Spying and waiting.

 Looks like they're staring right at us, but thanks to the uber-dark limo windows, 

they can't see a thing!

They're all just checking out the sweet 'wheels' that are going to deliver them to the dance.

 Posing for one last group shot, in front of the limo. 

Little did Haylie know, I was just on the other side of the glass. See! Complete genius!

 Eeek, this is it! They have no idea we're in here! Here they come!

 "Hi Haylie!  Guess what? I'm going to the Prom with you.

And so are Lindsay and Jordan! Isn't that awesome?!"

"Umm, you are??"

 Ty: "What's that? I didn't hear you right. You're....coming....with us? R-rr-really?"
(Uttered with a forced and slightly terrified smile.)

Ha! I can be a pretty un-cool mom, but I'm not that un-cool. Just wanted to see you guys squirm.

 

 All squished in and ready to roll.

 Awww (again).

 And there they go.

Thrilled that Moms, Dads, brothers, and sisters are left behind.

The End.

P.S. It was at about this moment that I reached my hand into my jeans pocket and discovered the melted Girl Scout cookie that the generous (yet buff and quite intimidating) limo driver had given me earlier. He warned me to not put it in my pocket.

Meh.

Miracle x2

Two miracles happened today:

1) It snowed.

2) I blogged.

I'm just so happy that Utah finally decided to host a little bit of winter that I simply canNOT hold back. I just have to record it.

It finally snowed. It's only March, you know. Sorry, Utah, but winter actually started waaay back in December. 

Yep, I'm sorry you've been so confused. . . but glad you've chosen to come out of your season-confused funk.

These are my rain boots, not my snow boots. My snow boots were waaay on the other side of the house, in my closet--at least a 5 second walk. Much too far so I grabbed what was close.

(Yes, those are my jammies tucked into my snow boots.  Come on, it was only noon.)

And yes, we still have a dog.  She runs super-fast in non-stop circles around the back yard, even in the snow. When she acts like this we say, "Uh-oh,  Molly has the zoomies again."  She is Psycho Dog.
(See how her hind legs are in a rabbit-like pose? It makes for an uber high-speed bolt.) 

Psycho Dog eats snow.  Preferably only white snow*. . . but there are no guarantees.

(My boys have informed me they don't like this picture of Molly.  Because it shows her lip.  And apparently her lip looks weird.)


*As opposed to the ever-disgusting yellow snow. Ick.

I will blog again.

Life sure gets in the way, doesn't it?  I am SO far behind it's overwhelming.  I know there are people waiting for more England and HP7.2 red carpet pics.  Seven months behind. And now I'll have to add India to that list.   

*sighhhhhh*

Is there anyone out there who is willing to blog it all for me?

Please??

raspberries

There is a saying around here: "You can't grow raspberries in this town!" 

Well, I have something to say back: "You can't grow raspberries in this town because they are all growing at MY house!"  

Someone's been sneaking into my garden and feeding my raspberries steroids.  

Every year,  our raspberries produce mountainous amounts of big, red, juicy, SWEET bits of heaven.  We can't keep up with them.  We pick.  And we pick.  And then we pick some more!  We're lucky if we make a dent.  Srsly.

Lucky for me, I luuuv raspberry freezer jam (and is there anything on this green earth that is easier to make?!), but a few years ago I stopped making it because I just could not HACK the amount of sugar that was needed.  I felt like I was spreading berry-flavored sugar on my toast!  

It was just freaking me out a bit.

However, I love Agave nectar and I thought that there had to be a way to use it in jam-making.

So, I launched on a mission to find someone on the internet who had perfected this concoction. Surely someone out there had figured it out. Well, there was no one.  Nada.  Zilch.  Zero.  Oh, people talked about it, how wonderful it would be to use Agave in jam, and plenty had tried to make it work, but no one had been successful.  

Enter: Me.

After a few attempts and a lot of crossed fingers, I came up with the perfect jam; made with NO sugar- just raspberries, Agave nectar, and pectin.  I've since had several friends ask me for my "secret" recipe.  Well, it's a secret no more, so here it is:

* 4 c. smashed raspberries

* 1/2 c. Agave nectar (this can vary depending on the sweetness of your berries - mine are extra sweet...if you like it more sweet and less tart, add a little more nectar plus a little more pectin)

* 1 packet PLUS 1 tbsp Freezer Pectin (if you like firm jam, add 2 tbsp)

In a large bowl, combine the Agave and the pectin.  Stir until well blended.  Add the raspberries and stir well for 2 minutes.  Pour into plastic containers.  Cover with lids and let sit for 30 minutes.

Freeze, then weep guilt-free tears of joy each and every time you spread some of this loveliness on your toast/pb sandwich/waffle/crepe/french toast/hootenanny pancake.

Caprese

 Does summer really get any better than this?

Srsly, people.  I declare: It. Does. Not.

Caprese (pronounced kuh-pray-zay, and if you don't roll the "r" like a true Italian, people may mock you.
Just sayin'.)

Made from:

* Tomatoes - from my garden

* Basil - from my garden

* Fresh mozzarella - from cows in Wisconsin.  They have really good cows in Wisconsin.
* Feta - from my fridge
* Dubliner cheese - from, I'm assuming, Ireland.  Dublin, Ireland...hence "Dubliner."  Makes sense to me. 

* Balsamic vinegar and olive oil - Peterson's Market.  However, originally from Italy!  Impressive, I know.
* Salt and pepper - from....wherever salt and pepper come from.

I use 3 kinds of cheeses to please everyone in my family. 

I could eat this all day, all night, and every single minute in-between.

Harvest

We are experiencing mega-poundage of produce production at the moment and there is no slowing in sight. 

Maybe I need to open my own farmer's stand down on the corner.  Hmmm....

(I know, I know.  My "next post" was supposed to be the Harry Potter World Premier.  I think I've now spent 58.75 hours working on that particular post.  And I am still working on it.  It's coming.  Eventually.)

London: Borough Market

Ten glorious days spent on the other side of the big pond was not nearly enough, but really, there is no complaining here. Brooke's grad present from BYU fit me just fine.

The weather was fab (except a serious downpour on day 1) and the food, I must say, was a big, delicious surprise!  Simply scrumptious.  When we lived in England 16 years ago really good food was, well, a leeetle hard to come by (I warily admit whilst hoping to not offend any of my beloved Brit friends).   For the most part the only place to really get great food was at a pub. Well, times have changed!   England has stepped up to the plate (no pun intended) and now offers delicious food galore.  And boy, did we ever take advantage of that!

Our plane arrived in London at 6 a.m. and, after quickly checking into our "flat," we headed straight for Borough Market.  A most divine food market in the heart of London not far from London Bridge.

BTW, this was the view out my bedroom window in our flat, which was one block from Trafalgar Square.   It reminded me of the musical Oliver and I half-expected that, at any moment, Fagin would pop out and dance on the roof-tops armed with a chimney sweeper in his hand.

Er, wait.  Maybe I'm thinking of Bert in Mary Poppins.

Either way, neither showed up and I was slightly disappointed.

Anyhoo, on to the market, where succulent samples of nosh eagerly awaited our arrival.

 

 "Excuse me ma'am, would you like a side of 'hoof' with your swine leg?"

*Coming next: The London premier of Harry Potter 7 Part 2 (yes, we stood right next to the red carpet!!).

Adam and the Moon

In May, our family went to Orlando, Florida for 10 glorious days of Mickey, Hogwarts, Butter Beer, and Kennedy Space Center.

What a FUN vacation.  We loved it all, but Kennedy was the surprise hit of the trip!  We couldn't get enough of it. The last flight of the shuttle Endevour was to launch while we were there.  It got delayed (surprise!) and it ended up launching 24 hours AFTER we left Florida.  Meh.

However, not all was lost.  We happened to be there on the day they launched the Atlas 5.  We not only got to witness that but we got to be in the VIP section!  Watching that was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen.  In my life!  In fact, as it ascended into the brilliant and clear blue sky, I cried.  I cried!  It was so powerful.  I was in complete awe of what I was witnessing.  Until you have personally witnessed a space craft launch, you don't fully understand the meaning of the word "awesome."

It was at that space center that my Adam changed.  Over the two days we spent there, an interest  love obsession of space-travel consumed my boy.  Good-bye Thomas the Tank Engine, hello Space Shuttle!

Ever since we got home he eats, drinks, sleeps....space flight.   His goal now is to be an astronaut (just like 58 billion other little boys) and walk on the moon.  He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might even walk on the surface of Mars.   Someday.

He recently came up to me and said, "Mom, today I was looking out the window and I wanted to be an astronaut so bad that I cried."   Oh!  To melt a momma's heart!  I thought, "Wow, this boy is serious about this!"

That evening, he and I sat on the swing on our front porch enjoying mommy and Adam time.  There was  a full moon in a crystal clear sky.  As he and I sat together we talked about his future as an astronaut and gazed at the brilliant moon that he someday hopes to walk on.

As we talked about it, he started to cry.  

I think it's so sweet to see a young child with such a passion.  Those passions usually change as quickly as the weather, but how great for them to have such big dreams.  And who knows, maybe Adam will keep this dream and maybe, just maybe, someday walk on another planet.

I grabbed my camera that night and took this picture of that wondrous moon from our porch.  I wanted to remember exactly what the moon looked like the night my boy was dreaming.

#569

Oh. My. Gosh. WHAT am I supposed to do with this DOG?!?