Lemon bars go skydiving

The good thing about baking lemon bars in a disposable pan, without greasing the pan, is that when you laugh hysterically at the Harlot’s new post or YouTube’s on Mason Dixon Knitting, and the pan sails off the corner of the desk, only a few crumbs come flying out onto the floor.



Because it would be a shame to waste any of the gooey goodness. Here is my friend Sooz’s most recent column for Meridian. First paragraph after the sub-heading Back to the Drawing Board. Last sentence. The next paragraph is pretty cool, too. And right when I needed to hear good counsel from my wise friend. Who is no longer sadly blogless. Welcome to the dark side, Sooz!

I have figured out part of what I want. [At least in one small aspect of my life.] One brief moment of clarity where I knew, “Yes, that is exactly what I would like. If it’s right.” Now I just have to be patient and listen to find out if that’s a good idea. To that end, I will be joining my ward on Friday after work for ward temple night. My plan is to do temple work for one of my ancestors, and then to find a quiet place to sit and ponder and ask a bajillion questions or twelve.

Lark’s concert was amazing. The ninth-grade boys were impressively off-key, but they are polishing [or developing] their talents, and I admire that. I suspect they will sound as good in three years as the male varsity choir sounded tonight. Show choir did a rendition of “Proud Mary” to make Tina Turner proud: shimmying and foot stomping and hair swinging. Another choir sang a Russian Alleluia [Bortnyansky] a capella, which moved me to tears. They then followed that with “Wayfarin’ Stranger” and “Grandfather’s Clock”, both of which always make me cry.

Great rendition of “What Shall We Do with a Drunken Sailor” by the male varsity choir. I used to sing a parody of that when the girls were little:

What do we do with a poopy baby?
What do we do with a poopy baby?
What do we do with a poopy baby, earl-aye in the morning?
Change her little diaper and wipe her bottom,
Change her little diaper and wipe her bottom,
Change her little diaper and wipe her bottom, earl-aye in the morning.

[Because you come here for the randomness, right?]

I taught Middlest to bind off in the auditorium before the concert, and next Tuesday I will teach her how to weave in her ends. Probably not before. Monday night was laundry, last night was culture with the family, tonight is learning how to enter a report on the computer at church for my calling in Relief Society, Thursday I hope to be at home with the phone off and my feet up, Friday is temple work, and Saturday? Saturday looks to be crazy-busy.

At least the laundry is caught up for a couple of weeks. And I can wear the outfit I have in mind to work today, because all the pieces are clean and I know where they are. Proving that the age of miracles is not past.