Meticulous Me

I have always known that I have been a bit meticulous which according to the online dictionary is-taking or showing extreme care about minute details; precise; thorough; finicky, fussy. I am only meticulous about certain things though. Take, for example, my hair. I am not meticulous about my hair. I hope I look presentable and what not and I really hope I am not getting stuck in a decade (at least not the 80's...man those were some beastly times). And it is not that I don't care, it is that I just don't have to have my hair perfectly placed, necessarily washed all the time, and every strand just right. Plus I am getting grey hair and I am plucking them. But then the buggers grow back all spindly like and I just keep on plucking. Forget coloring (at least right now) I am cheap! Plus I love wearing hats because then I don't really have to do my hair. See what I mean?

Now I am meticulous about my house. I think I have almost driven Zac to the brink. Here is the thing-we have closets and drawers for a reason. You put your stuff in them. You hide that crap. So when papers and pencils and phones and mail is strewn about all over the counter top, I get a little nutty. The one thing that sends me over the edge is shoes out in the open. And here is why. When I was in high school, I was the only kid left at home. I had the entire upstairs to myself and I settled in quite nice. I had been living my basically bachelorette life up in my pad for a few years when the dreaded call came. Roger my older brother was moving back home. Now I love my brother Roger don't even get me wrong there people...the thing about it was that Roger was moving to the upstairs which to this point had been my own place. I kept a tidy upstairs and I was already aware of my older brothers' 'habits'. So upon the first week of his arrival I was already plagued by the constant shoes and socks in the middle of the room. Every single day. Even when he was barefoot those freaking things showed up in the middle of the room. All he had to do was take 10 steps (I did count) and put them in his room. I don't care what happened in there but when the dang things are sitting in the main room staring me in the face as I watch a movie or play the guitar? No. NO! Anyway, I have a major deal now with shoes being out. Don't even get me started on the bathroom. How do guys miss is what I want to know. Are you balancing the checkbook or doing statistics homework? Seriously. Pay attention!

Anyway-I blame my mom for the way I am. She has brain washed me even though she will never admit it. It gets a bit crazy when you have limited space too. Man what I could do with one more drawer or one more closet. Why am I fantasizing about this? What the crap is going on with my life when I dream about having another drawer. Oh man....

Camp LoMia 2009

There is a beautiful thing in this world known as girls camp and I had the joy of being able to go as a leader this past weekend. I do have many a story involving this event plus some earlier years girls camp stories but instead of wooing you all with my words, I figured I'd just post a bunch of pictures....with a short explanation. This year I was in charge of the YCL's (which are the 16+ year olds so my job was pretty cake). Not to mention I had the best partner in the world-cough-Michelle. So without further ramblings-I present the camp pictures.

We wore our shower caps to brush our teeth the first night. These two gems are Lizzy and Jessica and they are my favs! I am going to miss them like the dickens because they are leaving to the college life.

Oh the hike. This years hike pretty much ruled and kicked a lot of the girls butts. Seriously. The hike was 3.5 miles down and then 3.5 back up. At the bottom was a swimmin' hole dubiously named Fossil Springs. It was a BLAST! Here are my faithfuls Michelle, Gina, and Lindsey truckin' it down. Nice pose Bev.

We mean business.

I love this picture. And I love Michelle's finger toes.

What is girls camp without a good bout of Most Ferocious Gorilla or MFG for you rookies out there. I almost peed my pants because of Gina. Man she is one of the funniest people around and I loved every second with her! I am so ferocious right there.

So hot right now....so hot. (Me, Gina and Michelle)

These are my girls. Man I love our church girls. This was bishop's night when we meet as a ward rather than in cabins. We had a good lesson and then we DESTROYED all of cabin 6's decorations. See below.

I love this kid. This is Kat getting ready to spike the paper lantern.

I pretty much street fightered the giant lantern so me and Gina wanted to make sure everyone knew not to mess with us.

Me n' Bev just cheesing it up. I pretty much had a blast because of this beauty right here. Our goal was to get the most laughs award. And then our other goal was to freak our cabin girls out. And then the last goal was to count how many times I laid cable in the bathroom. The answer is 10 times. I love me some camp! And Arby's in Payson! And Walmart Bingo! And the macarena....wait....No....It's horrible!!

My Dah

 A couple things.  Many blogs I have been avisiting have some sort of wedding picture mingled in.  I realized today I have never put any wedding pictures in.  Not that I condone the blog wedding picture post, it is just something I have never done.....until now.  I have been pondering about my Dah (that is Irish for dad) today and I love this picture of us as seen below.

I think I look a little confused because my dad never really kisses me on the cheek and we were on our second hour of pictures.  Plus the fog was starting to roll in and my arms and face were numb.  

I guess at the beginning of the post I said a couple things.  And then I only put one thing....the whole wedding picture beef....so I better put another thing so you don't think I am a liar.  Here it is.  What is the deal with sore throats in the summer?  Just ponder that.  If any of you out there know my dad, you know he is a character and a half.  I love talking to him and hearing about all of his crazy and funny stories.  He is such a good dad and takes good care of us kids.

I have so many fond memories of my dad and things we have done....or things he has done and then shared them with us.  Some highlights from my life with my dad thus far: tetherball, riding on the lawn mower together, planting corn, after game talks, throwing the dirty dish rag at each other, golfing together, listening to his high school/college stories (especially any story with Dean in it), and the last one I will list is a segway to a little story.....and that is fire stories. 

Now there are many a fire story involving my dad and a warning to all-it is much better when he tells it-so if you can get him to tell it, stop reading right now.  To begin my dad has a reputation with fire so when the flame thrower showed up on our door step one day my mom threw a fit.  It was a crisp fall morning, the kind that needs the air to be filled with that smell of burning leaves or brush.  At least that is what my dad thought.  He busts out his flame thrower and heads to one of the ponds in front of our house.  Now he has gotten smart over the years of burning and this time got a bucket of water and placed it on the west side of the pond.  Now the pond is not huge-probably the size of a large swimming pool-but it is surrounded by fitzer bushes which are highly flammable (my dad burnt down 14 of our neighbors with the flame thrower on a separate occasion).  So he begins by turning on the propane tank and attaching the flame thrower.  As he prepares to tackle his honey do list he hears something.  As he slowly turns around to look at the propane tank that he had on a small hand cart (which in turn was attached to the flame thrower) a giant flame was shooting out of the top of the propane tank.  

So this is when it gets interesting.  First thought my dad has was "fire...well there is a giant pond of water"  His immediate reaction was he picked up the propane tank and chucked it into the pond.  Little did he realize that his hand was looped into the flame thrower which was attached to the propane tank.  So when he chucked in the propane tank, he in turn followed the dang thing into the pond head first.  So now he is in the water face to face with this propane tank.  The tank is bobbing on the surface of the water STILL shooting a giant flame out of the nozzle.  So he grabs the thing like he is wrestling with a gator and shoves the entire tank under the water.  You can imagine his surprise when the entire tank is submerged and the thing is still shooting a giant flame out of the top......under water.  Then to make things more interesting, the top of the water has tiny bubbles popping up and the top of the water is now on fire.  That's right....the water is on fire.  My dad's thoughts were that this thing was going to explode and he could possible be in major trouble.  Well, his thoughts realign and he thinks "I just need to turn the propane tank off!"  So he reaches down into the water and twists the nozzle shut.  Miraculously the fire stops shooting out of the nozzle and the top of the water no longer consists of fire bubbles.  I forgot to mention that my dad had his waders on (which are giant boots that go to your nether regions) and upon his tumble into the water, the suckers were now full of water and weighed according to him "fifty pounds each"--although the number does keep getting bigger every time I hear the story. 

Few!  He got the fire stopped, took one giant breath of relief and then gained his footing.  Some of you know my dad is deaf in one ear so I don't blame him for not hearing what he did sooner.  He began to gain his composure when he heard the crackle of a well fed fire. As he turned around, the entire east side of the ponds fitzer bushes were on fire.  See, when he threw the propane tank that was shooting fire into the pond, the fire in turn caught the fitzer bushes on fire on the way over.  Now he is jostled into more action.  But being the wise man he is-- he remembered to put a bucket of water close by just in case something was to happen.  The bucket was on the other side of the pond completely opposite of the fire.  So he trudges as fast as he can to the bucket--remember he has fifty pounds of water all up in his waders as he is sloshing to the other side to get the bucket.  After much deliberation and moving not much faster than the people that fix my ac do (meaning very slow), he finally gets to the bucket.  He grabs the bucket and trudges back through the pond to the other side and begins to shovel buckets of water on his fitzer bush fire.  After much battling, he is able to put out the fire before it spreads around the whole pond.  So he plops himself up on the grass to take of his water logged waders and goes inside to clean himself up.  When he enters our house my mom is sitting in the kitchen.  She looks at my dad who is drenched, cut, and has black soot all over him and says "What in the world happened to you?"  My dad answers "I was out at the pond with the flame thrower...." And my mom interrupted him and says "I don't even want to know."

Happy Father's Day Dah.  I love you lots!

Down Mingo

Zac and I have been very fortunate to be able to travel a little bit together.  Nothing too exotic or anything you need a passport for, meaning standard continental U.S.  Last week we got to go see the thriving metropolis that is Mingo Junction, Ohio.  I know you can't read sarcasm but I laid it on pretty thick in that last sentence.  We landed in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania which according to a laminated poster board is 'America's Most Livable City'.  I immediately say bull because according to the probably 15 stucco signs upon every entrance into Scottsdale it reads 'Most Livable City'.  I guess Scottsdale is the worlds most livable city rather than just Americas.  Take that Pittsburgh. Plus our signs won't get damaged in a wind storm.  Anyhoo, Mingo is about 40 minutes away from Pitt. so not too bad if I say so myself.  I was instantly claustrophobic because of all the shrubbery and I had forgotten what the color green looked like.

We went to Mingo Junction to visit Zac's grandma 'Baba' Mary D.  Our docket was full of things to do including the following:

BINGO-

We kicked everyones preverbal backsides at Bingo.  Take that gerrys.  Zac won three times and Baba and I won once.  We took pictures to document the experience.  The best thing is that Baba has good luck charms that she rubs numbers with in the hopes that the bingo caller would call it.  She even started to yell at them to pick certain numbers.  Baba also insisted on sitting in the middle of Zac and me so in case we didn't know what a bingo was she would help us.  Half way through she put the small pig you see above on my card and told me to move it around if I wasn't getting numbers picked.  Quite the experience and I would suggest it to anyone who wants a rockin' good time.  Plus we got cookies and cake.

This is the steel mill.  The reason Mingo Junction exists.  The sad thing about the mill is that it has completely shut down.  I have never been to a town that is dying but this is one.  They took the high school out completely and demolished the football/baseball field.  The closest larger town to Mingo (Stubenville) has even taken out stop lights because there isn't enough traffic and it costs too much to run.  It's pretty sad to see.  The only things in town are bars and two pizza places.  The bars are full.

We had a garage sale on Saturday.  Baba made 6 bucks off of it. 

It took Baba three times but we finally got a good picture of Zac and me in front of the ice cream shop.

Some of the best pizza.  SO good!  The two times we did have pizza it was done a bit different there in the eastern states.  They serve them by slices and they are square pieces.  They then put them in square boxes they refer to as 'trays'.  Also some of the oldies would say the word yuns.  Let me explain.  "Yun's make sure to enjoy this pizza!"  Zac is going to try and bring 'yuns' to the west side.

This is the Serbian Orthodox church in Stubenville.  We went to the Sunday service with Baba.  That is all I will say about that.

This man on the poster is the reason Zac is a Bears fan.  When Zac's dad was a little boy (seven years old or so) Joe Fortunato was at a carnival in town and asked Zac's dad to take his little girl on the carousel.  Ever since that day, Emil was a bears fan which in return converted Zac.

This is a picture of the bridge connecting West Virginia to Ohio over the Ohio River.  Saweet.

Thus ends yet another adventure in our life.  I was glad we were able to do it because, you know, now I can say I went down Mingo. 

The Poop One

Warning-this is going to be a poop story which I figure you should know because of the title. But just in case.....

Today is Sunday bloody Sunday (and the battles just begun).  That one was for Richelle.  Our Sunday afternoons consist of really not much.  A lot of channel surfing and surprisingly enough, golf is on.  I am use to watching golf on Sunday because of my dad but I never figured my husband would get that into it.  It puts me right to sleep even though I do enjoy the game.  It is something about those announcers with their all hushed talk tones and mild manners that just makes me feel as though I am in the womb again.  

There we are today on our separate couches watching the blockbuster thriller Twister on TNT.  I hadn't seen this movie since I last watched it on our VHS that my parents had.  All I remembered was when this movie came out it was a crazy high tech, visual, nerdery mater piece.  I love that the bad guys in the movie are storm chasers with corporate sponsors.  'They were in it for the money, not the science'-quoted by Bill Paxton in Twister.  I was about half way into the movie when Jaitz decided he wanted to go outside.

This was actually a welcomed thing because I was getting antsy and it really was bugging me that the tornadoes were growling.....seriously growling.  So I get Jaitz and his leash and of course my trusted poop bag and proceed down the stairs.  Today was a really nice day-not too hot outside-so I figure I will take the wee pup on a longer jaunt than normal.  We get to our usual poop spot and he does exactly as he should.  I've taught him everything I know.  So he does his business and I proceed to pick up the poo.  In the meantime, Jaitz did a preemptive cut off and the result was he had a dingle berry attached.  When this happens he spins in circles, lays down, spins in more circles and then puts his ears WAY back.  The only way to restore order is to get the dingle berry.  Since I had a bag full of poop I decided the best option was to put the dingle berry in with the rest of the poop.  I grab the inside of the poo bag to get the dingle berry when I accidently step weird and plunge the top of my hand into the poop bag.  Right when it hit I began to get the cold sweats....or as Heather calls them the meat sweats.  I pull my hand out hoping my mind was wrong about the warm substance it just touched, and the result is negative.....meaning I had dog poo all over the top of my hand.   I immediately dry heave and then laugh because dry heaving is SERIOUSLY one of the funniest things to me.

This is when everything happens at once.  Remember Diamondes from the last blog posting??  The Greek?  Well guess who is lounging by the pool in his B is for Banana hammock.  Him.  He is.  He sees me from across the pool and tennis courts and yells "ELLO KREEESTEN!" (roll the R).  I of course have poop on my hand, he is about 50 yards away from me and wants to chat, and I feel like I might puke (it didn't help that I made apple sauce (devil) cookies and ate probably 9-11 no joke).  Luckily I had my cell phone in my hand and I called the first person on my mind which happened to be Michelle.  FEW.  I get out of the long distance chat with Diamondes but now I still have poo on my hand and my phone and Jaitz are in the other plus I still have to back track to the garbage can to throw the poo away.  I begin by telling Michelle what had exactly happened and she is busting up like I thought she would.  I get to the trash can and I get a whiff.  I am already laughing because I think a gag is coming.  Just a little one came.

So I throw the poo away and start rushing back to my place to go and wash.  Meanwhile Michelle is still on the phone and I beg her to get my mind off of it because the meat sweats are still very present.  So I say "you gotta help me get this off my mind or I might puke!"  If someone would say this to you what would you say in response?  I do not fault Michelle for telling me what she was doing at that moment, but that is what she did.  and I quote "I am eating Craisins right now."  Ahhhh Crasins.  The deliciously naturally sweet dried cranberry that can whisk you away to some ocean side bungalow.  Well you see, I have issues with Crasins.

As a sophomore in high school our english teacher made us read Alive.  If you don't know what Alive is or about-in a nut shell it is about a soccer team that crashes in a plane in the Andes mountains and have to eat the dead people in order to survive.  It is a very interesting book but also very graphic.  When I was reading this book I was OBSESSED with eating Craisins at the same time.  So now whenever I eat a Craisin I think about eating human brains.  Sick I know but it is what it is.  I still like Craisins but seriously can't help but think they are bits of human flesh now. Hello Clarice.

So Michelle busts out with "I'm eating Craisins," right at the wrong time.  She didn't know my issue so it is okay.  You know what my mind thought of -eating human brains- and at that same moment my hair fell in my face.  My natural reaction is to take my right hand and wipe the hair from out of my eyes because I don't want to do the emo head tick swish, when I realize "I have poo on that hand!!" Well it got close enough to my face for another whiff and with the compilation of the Craisins I dry heaved and then laughed and laughed.  Michelle was still talking but I had dropped the phone to my side and focused on my toe nail polish.  I made it to the stairs and bid a farewell and praise because I did not vomit.  I ran inside to the bathroom while telling Zac I got poop on my hands and I scrubbed and scrubbed.  He made me wash my hands two more times and then told me that I had to wash them every ten minutes for the rest of the night and bathe in tomato juice...like Jaitz is a skunk now....you know-he might be now that I think about it.

On a side note-yesterday Jaitz pooed 5 times.  He usually is only a two-er.  That is the poop one.  And thank heavens I didn't have a picture for this post eh?

I am a Mutt

I have always wanted to be from some type of nationality.  Let me explain--When I tell people what my last name is and they don't know me, they begin to ask me all these questions about my heritage and what not.  I of course am not Serbian.  I am a compilation of just about every boring nation there is.  I am mostly English mixed with a bit of every other neutral nation you can imagine.  The mutt of all mutts.  I have always envisioned myself as lets say Italian.  You see I LOVE Italian food-eating and cooking it-I can be a bit boisterous, I love naps in the middle of the day, and I am on my way to having a grandma stache if it weren't for the wax.  Plus I have that dark hair light skin complexion that a lot of Italians have.  I enjoy mob movies and I am always wanting to burst out with a Mama Mia!  although I hold back constantly-because of course I am no where close to Italian.

I have thought about this for quite sometime.  Well not really....mostly when I am at an Italian restaurant.  Don't get me wrong....I love my heritage and what not, I've always just wanted to feel like I belonged to some exclusive club that really doesn't exist. Being married into a Serbian family I have gotten a taste of what this club is like but how many Serbian restaurants do you see?  That's right NONE.  Plus if I rattled off some Serbian phrase you might just kick me in the neck.  In fact, I might kick me in the neck because I don't know how to speak Serbian.  Now if I yelled 'Mama Mia!' you would get it but if I rattled off "Gooby Sucka Chutdapa??"  See what I mean (really that phrase means 'face like a sock')  Plus I am not really Serbian...remember from the above paragraph?

Have you ever had a Gyro (pronounced Yeeroo)?  I have had my fair share of this wonderful food-from fairs to upscale Greek restaurants, no gyro is safe from me.  It is the mother flippin.  Take a spicy lamb/beef mixture meat, put it on a warm pita, smother it in tomatoes, feta, and tzastiki sauce (a cucumber yogurt mixture), and stuff your face until you can't breath.  The gyro does come with onions but I say no to the veggie that can make you cry. 

I have a new neighbor who's name is Diamondes and that is right folks, he is a Greek.  I was out in the pool one day trying to see if I could swim with my healing busted leg/foot when this gem showed up.  He doesn't speaky the english too well so he decided to practice on me.  I think he understood that I didn't understand him when I didn't answer his questions.  The thing about this Greek is that he is A) Euro and you know what that means.  B) Banana hammock.  SICK.  Constant speedo action.  He lives right by the pool which happens to be by my morning Jaitz walk so EVERY morning I get to witness Diamondes in his full glory watering his roses.  He doesn't even have to be swimming/sun bathing to warrant the speedo.  No one is safe.  That is besides the point.  The point is I've been getting all these Greek vibes lately.  The gyro is taunting me from inside out, the new Greek neighbor, and My Big Fat Greek Wedding was on ABCFamily for a week straight.  I think I might be turning Greek instead of my original Italian.

So upon finding my new Greek adopted heritage I have been on a mission to find the best tasting gyro in town.  Now I had found the BEST one I have ever had in Boise--all you back in B-town, save up your allowance and head to Casba on 8th and Idaho.  It is a bit pricy but I have never had a gyro like that in my life.  If you don't have an allowance go to Mazzeh on 18th and State. A bit cheaper but still  SO GOOD!  I did find one of the best and beefiest gyros here in the AZ at a place called Codel.  I decided that all I wanted was one of these delicious morsels so Zac and I headed over to get one.  TRAGIC NEWS!!! The dang place closed!  SONOFAB.  As you can tell I have been on a mission.  I tried to talk to Diamondes to see if he had any suggestions and I couldn't understand him and he started talking about the weather so I slowly backed away from him with my hands out in case he charged.

I decided it was time to go out and try places and figure this out....I mean my heritage was counting on me and all.  Since I am Greek now.  I have been to a couple places and they have been okay but nothing to write home about.  On Friday, Zac had 'drinks' with his work which consists of him pounding ice water and eating sliders.  I decided it was a good night to try and find a divine gyro.  I looked up a bunch of places on the internet and I seriously researched them.  For real.  I found what I thought was the best and also the closest to me (remember I live in a city that is 100 miles across) and I headed out with Jaitz by my side.  As I pull up I am already slamming my fist on the steering wheel; the dang place has all the lights off and chairs on the table.  Written on a piece of lined paper and taped the door says "Closed Memorial Day Weekend."  Who closes a place of business for 3 days??  I am livid...all I want is a freaking gyro please!!  I remember a few places up north that I researched and I decided to go and play discovering Arizona: Gyro Style.  I headed to where I thought a place would be and was let down.  I keep driving around aimlessly until I remember that I heard about a place real far north from one of my buddies and I said "screw it....lets do this!"  So I popped it into D, pushed my pretend nitro button, forgot Jaitz was in the car and sent him flying across the back seat, and peeled out to my next destination.  I wanted the Greek gods to know I was pissed.  And they knew it.  I proceed to drive WAY to far for any food (other than Chicago Connection pizza....I would walk 500 miles for that) and finally made it to Daphne's Greek Restaurant.  I knew the second I walked in this was going to be a mediocre place (sorry Gina).  It was pretty pricy for a weak sized gyro.  Don't get me wrong the thing was delicious but not the type of gyro that explodes because they've packed it so tight the only direction the meat can go is up--the kind that defies gravity.  So I ate my dinner at an empty parking lot with my pooch, drank my frosty beverage and headed home to finish the night with a retarded red box movie (Doubt totally sucks just to let the three of you who are reading this know).

I still did not get my gyro fix.  I can't stop the maddness!!!  On Saturday, Zac and I decided to hit up a matinee. I knew there was a gyro place by the theaters so I made the suggestion that we should eat there for lunch.  We stopped at Walgreens to return the stupe movie and so I could buy some reduced priced treats for the movie, and headed down to Tempe.  I definitely had more faith in this Greek stop.  Upon entering the gyro shop I felt as if I were home.  The walls were painted in that blue Greek paint that screams smurf turf.  It was not the decor that made me feel as though I were home but the spiket of lamb meat the size of Andre the Giant's thigh that stared me in the face as I was prepared to order.  Plus I could tell the chef was one of my long lost relatives....adopted of course.  We order our gyros and wait with anticipation. Now I have found that the gyro can sometimes be made or broken with one ingredient.  The tzastiki sauce.  We proceed to get our gyros that are so big and so meaty that it looks like I have a large popcorn but instead of popcorn I have meat, and instead of a popcorn container, I have a pita somewhere under all that meat.  It is so freaking big that I can't fold my pita so I proceed to eat it like a watermelon or corn on the cob.  The most brilliant thing about this gyro was that the tzastiski sauce came out in it's own container like some sort of condiment.  This means I get to put as much as I want on this thing.  I could just drink this stuff so I am PUMPED.  I proceed to douse my gyro with this little bottle of heaven and then I ate as fast as I could.  I did this for two reasons. One, we were in a hurry to make the movie, and two I have to trick my mind into thinking I'm not full.  The faster I eat the less time my stomach has to respond.  Let's just say I was paining for the REST of the afternoon.  But man it hurt so good.

The bad thing-during the movie I was constantly burping and not realizing it.  Zac was getting SO angry at me because I guess they stunk to high heck.  He was so riled up that he even compared these uncontrollable burps to Jaitz farts.  A little below the belt.  Besides they couldn't have been as bad as Kristie's broccoli burps.  Oh I wanted to punch her every time she ate broccoli.  I felt sick after that one but man I will do it again....just not for a while.  I have enjoyed being Greek and I have learned a lot.  About gyros, not much else.  I think I am going to go back to just being an adopted Serbian even though I can't stand Sarma.  Why is it always about food with me?

Good Days

This picture made me laugh so hard after it was taken that I had no words.  At least at the time.  Since then words have come to me.  When Zac's mom and brother were here in Arizona we decided to try a Cornish Pasty (pronounced Pahstee as much as I would like to say Paistey--like John Stockton is the Pasty Gangsta)  Anyhoo, if you have not had the pleasure to eat a Cornish Pasty it is as follows:  Take a hot pocket and inject steroids into it.  One fellow describes them as a Sunday dinner hot pocket.  It is a plethora of goodness shoved into a pocket of dough and then baked to perfection.  Legend has it that these pasty's were made for iron miners.  Since they would be in a mine all day the miner wives would make these pasty's with meat and such on one side and a dessert on the other side and then they would label the sides so no accidental dessert got eaten first.  Since they didn't have the luxury of utensils besides pick axes, they used their mitts to eat them.  So there you go. AHHHH PEACHES!!

My life has been real good lately.  I am off the blasted boot and I have begun to swim again so I don't just stay indoors and make pictures out of the wall texture anymore.  I start up coaching the summer session in a few weeks and I am real excited for that!  We are going to Ohio in a couple weeks to see Baba (Zac's grandma) and we are pumped to play bingo and check out the senior center.  Today I hung out with Michelle and her kids pretty much all day and it was a BLAST.  They came over in the morning with a friend and we went swimming in our pool.  We played monster, hold your breath underwater, and a quick game of tag.  Then we polished off a handful of grilled cheese sandwiches and juice.  Then Michelle and I raced to see who could get ready the fastest (I gave her a 20 minute head start because she had to drop a kid off and then get ready herself....plus she has three kids).  I don't know HOW but she totally beat me so then I went and picked her up and we went to Costco.  Man, going places with friends is so much more fun even when you are an "adult".  So we weaved around Costco, had some Saturday Samples, biffed it into a rug, and solved some of the worlds problems to boot.  We then went to her pad and made homemade spins which ROCKED my face off. (a spin is ice cream and pop--I like coke/pepsi--and you mix it up and then drink it.  I use to get them all the time at RoAnns in Emmett)  After the spin we played some football with her son and I watched as she painted her daughters toe nails...all the while giggling like we were 16 again.  It was a definite summer's day that turned out to be so wonderful--especially because yesterday, today looked to be pretty bleak.  Not so.