Wednesday, May 14, 2014

you look like a drunk on the go

Well, the guitar recital is over and done with and I'm glad to be on this side of it.  My mom recorded my song on her phone and then sent it to my sisters, and I didn't see it until afterward and it was pretty much one of the worst songs I've ever heard.  Barf, barf, barf.  I was cringing and covering my eyes and ears while watching it, and Grant said, "Yeah, you sang flat.  You always sing that song flat."  Thanks, son, for the kind words of encouragement and whatnot.  In the interest of full disclosure, John says it was the compression of texting a video that made it sound so horrible, and that aside from some anxiety-related flatness at the beginning it was very good.  But also he is my husband, so he could be lying.  But also we are very honest with each other, so maybe not.  Ugh, I just am totally grossed out.

Last night we had a youth activity in which we divided all the kids up into four groups and gave each group a box.  Inside each box were ingredients and a recipe for either an appetizer, a side dish, an entree, or a dessert.  Each group went to a different house in the ward and cooked their dish, then one hour later we met back at the church to eat the results.  I did the menu because last time we did something like this we ended up with a bunch of casserole-type things made with noodles and various kinds of canned cream soup, and I was hoping for a better experience. We had bruschetta, pork tenderloin, roasted cauliflower and green salad, and molten lava cakes.  Some of the kids made squick noises about the pinkness of the tenderloin, but I assured them that it was normal.  Well-done meat is an abomination and they may as well learn it now.  I don't mind telling you I was a little frazzled trying to figure out how to get a meal prepared for thirty-something kids and their attendant adult leaders in an hour.  But we did it, and I was so impressed with how great everything turned out.  Aw, these kids today.  There's hope for society yet.