how to make moonshine

Just in time for your Thanksgiving festivities:

First, make waffle batter for dinner. Don't make all the waffles, though. Make sure there's a good amount left.

Then, cover it up so it doesn't go bad, but forget to put it in the refrigerator. That step is super important, okay? DON'T PUT IN REFRIGERATOR.

Alrighty. Then, you just leave the bowl sitting on the counter, for like five days. If you feel like you need to wash it, don't. Tell yourself that your husband/roommate/sister/aunt will do it for you.

After it's been like a week and you notice the kitchen smells suspiciously like a brewery, remove the cover from the bowl. If you think there's a good chance that the bowl could grow legs and walk out of your kitchen all on its own, then....great news, you're done!

I submitted the recipe to Martha Stewart. I haven't heard back yet, but she's really busy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

do you like my blog's new lipstick?

I gave my blog a makeover.

Again.

This time, I had help. My friend Jake did me a solid and helped me out. And me likey. Me likey mucho.

Thanks, Jake.

it wasn't me.....

Tonight Paul and I were walking to the grocery store and there was this woman in front of us and she let rip this HUGE NASTY TOOT.

It was kind of awesome, in a really gross way.

I guess sometimes you just really have to toot and you don't care that there are two people behind you giggling.

Eeeeeeeewwwww.

every time i think i know

I thought I knew what it meant.

The atonement, I mean. I thought I knew. I grew up being taught about Jesus, that he lived a perfect life and sacrificed himself, that he atoned for the sins of mankind and because of that sacrifice we can be forgiven of our sins. And because I knew that, because I've always been taught that, I think maybe sometimes I'm a little too casual about it. Kind of like that friend who always pulls through, so sometimes you forget what an awesome friend you have. Know what I mean?

A couple of weeks ago a friend asked me to participate in a musical program for church. It's the stories of women in the Old Testament, women who met Jesus, told through song. They asked me to be a narrator, and I was like, yeah. I have a voice. I can narrate. So I said okay.

And I went to rehearsal and there were all these women with these incredible voices, voices that move and melt and do all the awesome things that a voice can do and I was like....uh....hey, guys. I'll just be over here, talking. Don't mind me.

I kind of wondered what I could possibly add. I mean, these women are amazing. I'm a tad embarrassed to admit that I didn't really give much thought to my part at first. I kind of figured no one would be paying me any mind, until after one of the rehearsals the director asked us narrators to really think about what we were saying, about what we felt, what we had a testimony of. And I was like, "right. Think. I can think."

So, I thought about it. I thought about my own personal experience with the Savior. When I was teeny tiny my parents were how I knew about Jesus. They told me He loved me, and I believed them. They told me that if I was afraid, or if I was hurt or if I needed help, Jesus knew how to help because of the atonement. And that was enough. I didn't really understand exactly how, but mom and dad really believed, and that belief was enough for me.

Then this one time I got a summer job. I had to feed our neighbor's dogs and water their lawn while they went on vacation. They paid me a lot of money. And all I had to do was unlock the gate and water the lawn and feed the dogs.Seriously, it was like fifteen bucks. It was going to keep me in Snickers bars for like two months.

So this one morning I went, only the key wouldn't open the gate, and I just climbed over and did my thing and it was fine except for when I needed to go back home I was like, shoot. I can't climb back over the gate.

And I was alone and I was scared and the dogs were just big enough to be scary and the only thing I knew to do was pray. So, I prayed. Maybe that was the first time I ever prayed for something because I really needed it. I knelt on the concrete by the fence and I folded my arms and I prayed like there was no tomorrow, which at the moment felt like a very real possibility.

Heavenly Father, please, tell my mom. Please, tell my mom. I need help. The gate's too high and I'm too small. Just please.

And I sat there and cried and resigned myself to a fate of eating dog food and sleeping on grass and then like fifteen minutes later, I heard the most beautiful thing in the whole wide world:

My mom's voice. And she was like "Andrea, are you okay?" and I was like "noI'mnot okayI'mscared" and I tossed my mom the key and she opened the gate and we walked home.

And I asked her how she knew. She said she was making her bed, and she heard a voice that told her she should go check on Andrea. Only she was sure I was fine, and so she ignored it and then the voice came again, loud this time, and it said GO CHECK ON ANDREA and she stopped making the bed and she found me. I was lost, and she found me.

That's the first time I remember feeling what I had heard my parents tell me for so many years: that Jesus knew. He knew how to help. Not just that He knew how to help, but that He would help.

And I thought I knew it all then, everything about how the Savior loved me.

And then it was years later and I wasn't in such a great place in my life. I was smack in the middle of my angst ridden teenage girl phase and it had been a long time since I'd thought about that morning when I knelt on the concrete so afraid, a long time since I'd thought about needing anything other than exactly what I wanted right then.

But then something happened and it was bad. I woke up and there was someone in my room and then my world changed from one where scary things are only in movies to a world where someone goes into your room who doesn't belong there.

And I was scared, and I needed help. And I prayed. I prayed and I felt love and I couldn't explain it because I didn't feel like I deserved it, but it was there and it was real and I knew where it came from.

Then it was after and sometimes I couldn't stop crying and nobody could make it go away, but then I remembered that the atonement means to forgive everyone and I wondered, could I do that? And so I gave the hurt I had over to the Lord and He washed away the anger and it isn't there anymore.

And it was a miracle. Something so much bigger than me, something so wrong that nobody could make better and a hole so huge it could have swallowed me up and it was like someone had taken a magic eraser pencil to all the hurt and I thought I knew, then, everything there was to know about how the Savior loved me.

Now, it's, well, now. And I have a good life, a good husband, plenty of blessings. More than I deserve.

But I want to be a parent, and I'm not.

I don't understand why. I've tried. I've been patient. I've said things like "it'll happen when it's time" and "I'm just trying to be happy in the moment" and "everything happens for a reason" but there comes a point when all the words don't work and you see it for what it is: hard. Just plain hard.

I've gone to the doctor. I've been poked and prodded and my body has become this crazy science experiment and I am left with only questions and no answers and faced with the possibility that this might be a problem without an answer. A problem with no cure. I feel broken, sometimes.

And one day I was feeling angry and sad and wondering why this is so hard for me, because I can do hard things and then I realized, maybe I can do hard things, but not alone. I need help. And that's exactly what the atonement is there for.

I have to believe that, though. And sometimes believing is hard. Pain is so familiar, sometimes. Pain is real and justified, and hope sometimes isn't, you know?

Maybe this is a problem that can't be fixed. I don't have that answer yet. And while the answer might not be my giving birth, here's what I believe: the atonement can wipe away all that pain and yuckiness and I can be happy.

I believe I'm going to be a parent someday. I believe it. I feel it. I know it. And maybe there is nothing in my life right now to make me think that's true, but I don't care. I so don't care. Because I know it.

I don't think I know anymore. I think the Savior knows. He knows me. That's what I think. That's what I believe.

That's what I know.

heaven is a milkshake

A toasted marshmallow milkshake, that is.

Seriously.

I read on my friend Katie's blog about this burger place that makes toasted marshmallow milkshakes. I know. And so, I thought, what better way to celebrate finally running a mile without stopping than with a frosty mug of blended, refined white sugar?

So, Paul and I went and got us some. It was like a near death experience. There was a light, and Paul was there, and....

Okay, maybe it was in no way like a near death experience. I was kind of lying about there being a light. Although this is New York and there are lots of lights. But it was totally like heaven.

So, for anyone who's interested, if you want to go to heaven, just take the 6 train to Union Square, walk a few blocks to Stand 4 Burgers, and order the toasted marshmallow milkshake.

Mmmmmmmmm.

take that, junior high P.E.

And the award for Running a Whole Stinking Mile Without Stopping or Puking Her Guts Out goes to......

ANDREA BOOOOEEEREEEM!!!!!

WHAAAA!!!! HOOOOOO!!! HAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

This is such a surprise! I didn't even have a speech prepared. Well, first, I would like to thank BFF Jen Bennion for patiently jogging at a snail's pace with me and saying nice stuff like"you probably won't die" and "really, you're not going to die".

I would also like to thank Jen for bringing her baby Violet, who is one of the Cutest Babies in the World, and I am quite certain my death defying feat would have been impossible were it not for her enthusiastic cooing.

Also I would like to thank Fort Tryon Park for being so leafy and pretty and for not having any potholes for me to fall into and break my ever loving neck. Also thanks to Fort Tryon Park for being so park-y. Really, nice job with those plants.

And a shout out goes to the Hudson River, just for being there. Well done, river. Well done.

And no thanks whatsoever to the minivan and the Toyota Corolla who cut us off in front of the Cloisters. I still did it, but no thanks to you. See what happens when you misbehave? Now I'm not going to put you in my movie.

Lastly, a great big thank you to my body, for not stopping, puking, or dying. Thanks, body. I couldn't have done it without you.

housecleaning

Hey, so if you look at my blog roll and all of a sudden your blog isn't there, it's not because you punched me and now I'm mad at you or anything.

Although if you punched me I might be a little peeved.

It's just that I noticed it had been a while since you blogged, and I figured you've moved on to bigger and better things, like winning Pulitzer prizes and stuff like that.

I still love you just as much.