Scandalous Desserts and More

My goodness what do you find out with a group of women, older women at that? Even though I don't consider myself old enough to be a member of the Daughter of Utah Pioneers a few years ago my friend Sherry invited me to attend with her. I assured her that I would not want to belong to group of old ladies (sorry this is what I thought). Sherry lured me with promises of good food. Well the food was great and the company was fun. At 52 I am one of the youngest members in the Sagwith camp. Last month I mentioned that I'd been to southern Utah with a group of Mormon Feminists. "Polygamists, did you say?""No feminists." "Who made the pumpkin pie?" several women wanted to know. Marjean, who brought the pie answered, "Sam's." "Who did she say made the pie--Sharon?" "Oh Shirley made the pie" By this time I'm laughing. Marjean is laughing trying to explain that she picked up the pie at Sam's Club while Donna is still laughing about the Feminist Polygamists. Now all this confusion is not because they women are just too old to hear, although that might be a little of the problem. The problem is that the tables are set out like a big long banquet table and what is said at one end will surely change--just like that old game we used to play at birthday parties. You know where you whisper something like, "Last night we ate pizza," and it turns into "The end of the world is here!" Or something scandalous--always something scandalous which brings me to the next month at DUP.

This month we had a luscious dessert. I recognized the dessert and used to make it when I made such things back in the day. The recipe was given to me as Oblong Pie. As we ate this dessert, someone said, Myrt calls this Filthy Wilma. "Filthy Wilma?" Yup that's right. So I came home and looked up the dessert and came across this quote in a blog about the dessert. "Anyway. So when I arrived (finally!) for the wedding, one of the first pieces of news gleaned from my brother and my sister was that there was a pan of Filthy Wilma in the fridge, left over from the previous night's festivities. What is Filthy Wilma? Well, as Amilynne puts it, if you're a good Mormon, it's Republican Dessert, and if you're a bad Mormon, it's Filthy Wilma."

I wonder what the name of the dessert would be called for me, a semi-decent Liberal leaning progressive Mormon? Luscious Linda, Jolly Jack, Obama Dreamcake, Raunchy Rachel, Hotty Hilary--Okay now they are sounding--well a little raunchy. Anyway it sounds a bit like our conversation at Relief Society tonight--or whatever it is they are calling it these days. I would tell you what the bishop's wife told us, but you can go over to her blog at Clawson live and search "F word" for the story. It's a good one with a good moral and everything. And here's the recipe for Filthy Wilma or whatever you want to call it.


Filthy Wilma Recipe
CRUST:

1 c chopped nuts
1 1/4 c flour
1 cube melted butter

1st Layer

8 oz cream cheese
1 c powdered sugar
1/2 container Cool Whip

2nd Layer

1 small pkg. chocolate instant pudding
1 small pkg vanilla instant pudding
3 c milk

Last Layer

1/2 container Cool Whip
chopped nuts

Mix crust and press in 9x13" pan. Bake at 350°F for 20 minutes. Chill before adding each layer. Combine each ingredient for each layer and top with the chopped nuts.

Christmas Romance & Family Nights

Last year I read one of Aubrey Mace's books "Spare Change" and found it really cute and different from most LDS romances. So when she asked for volunteers from our LDStorymakers to do a review, I volunteered. This is a quick read. I loved the beginning which is laugh out loud enjoyable. Abbie had given up finding the perfect man and contents herself with a fulfilling single life as the owner of a bakery and doting aunt. On Christmas Eve on a whim she quickly scrawls a note to Santa asking for a man. She sets the note out with a can of Pringles and a Coke and goes to bed. Of course, in the morning she is shocked to find a handsome man who has no idea how he got there. And yes he had eaten the chips and drank the Coke. The pace slows but keeps you interested enough to the last page. Of course you have to find out if the man with SBC on his silk pajamas really did come from Santa. It's reminiscent of the movie "Santa Clause" and old Christmas comedies. This book is an unapologetic light and a feel-good read for women who want to escape for a few hours. It won't change your life, but I don't think it was meant to. I believe it is available in most LDS bookstores.

2. Another one of my friends, Anne Bradshaw, has really worked hard to put out a great help to LDS families. Anne compiled a wonderful idea book of family home evening ideas from Mormons that are somewhat recognizable or outstanding in some way. I say all this a little hesitantly because an idea from me is on page 149. I hesitated to be included in this book because she called it "Famous Family Nights," and I'm neither famous or good at family home evenings. However it's an honor to be included in this fun little book. One of my favorite posts comes from Matthew Buckley author of the "Chicken in the Headlights" books describing his brother measuring belly button lint. Doesn't that remind you of some of your attempts at FHE? Anyway, there are some spiritual posts too and some that are really of help. I can see this being a wonderful gift for grandparents to give to their children or Home teachers or Visiting Teachers to give to their families. Wouldn't that be fun Christmas gift? Do not let the cover put you off. I have to say I am not a fan of the cover which makes it look like it is for little kids. This is a book for all age families. My post deals with adult children so I know this is true. Anyway it is also available in LDS bookstores and at Anne's website.

Sasquatch was here!

Recently I talked to a neighbor who saw prints of what in her opinion could only have been made by Sasquatch. The prints were clearing imprinted in the sediment in the bottom of the empty canal in the spring before the water was released. Unfortunately there was just enough seepage in the bottom of the canal to erase the prints before she was able to document them. She did however find a very good print on the side of the canal that had not been obliterated. If you found prints what would you do? Probably exactly what she did, she went to find a neighbor to show so someone else could witness the sighting. But the neighbor brought his dogs who ran through and ruined the print.

Well I had never met my neighbor and her story had superseded the meeting with her. In other words I'd heard about her belief. And I like anyone else would have assumed she was a bit off. But here's the rub. She's not. She's as sane as you or I. Well as sane as I am and I'm here to tell you, she believes what she saw could only have been made by Sasquatch which means he or she came very close to our house. So is that cool? Yeah, I think so.

The Magical side of Life

1. Have you ever heard of Crazy Creek? It's a beautiful waterfall outside of Yellowstone's N.E. entrance on the Beartooth highway. Not very many people go there, but it's so lovely. Usually it's a rushing cascade over giant boulders, but these pics were taken over UEA and conference weekend. Thanks church leaders and school leaders for coinciding so we could have a few days enjoying life. Contrary to what you may believe Yellowstone might have been warmer than Cache Valley. Our friends, Jeannie and Lee H. came along with us--actually drove because Lee says he gets carsick, but I do believe he also likes to be in control. I was worried about relinquishing my control, but found it liberating to relax and let things happen and not be in the figurative or literal driver's seat for a change. If Lee reads this he'll have something smart alec to say. He always has something smart alec to say.
   
2. Because of a fire south of Fishing Bridge we had to kill some time, so we went to Old Faithful. I have to admit Old Faithful isn't even close to my favorite feature in the Park. But look at it--isn't it beautiful? I was feeling awe-inspired when some guy's cellphone went off, right at the peak. What do you think he did? He answered it. And proceeded to chit chat not even mentioning that he was watching one of the most amazing phenomenon's of all time. I could hear every word he said while the rest of us ooohed and awed or just felt that funny feeling deep in your chest. It's the feeling you have when you see a newborn baby, a couple getting married, or watching a fire burn in the fireplace that your dad built in a cabin you've been visiting for 49 years. Cell phones kill the magic. Ok enough about that. My battery is about to run out because we're in a power outage and my good friend Jason Kimber who is a new father has informed me that the power outage is going to last for a few hours. I love that I got to see Yellowstone in the fall before the leaves fell. It's a first for me. I love spending time with friends, I love spending time with my husband. And I love Silver Gate, Montana. Life doesn't get any better--even a cell phone can't ruin that or a power outage.
   

Go to Helen Waite right after driving through Paradise

You have to love Paradise. Well not everyone does I guess. In August there were two concerts in the lovely hamlet of Old Paradise (Avon). The first was held right across the meadow from me. It was loud and obnoxious. Not even close to being my cup of tea. A stream of young people drove in and out of this concert until the wee hours of the morning. It sounded like heavy metal or maybe just shouting, but I didn't move out to Avon to tell my neighbors what to do. It's one day--no biggie. The very next week there was another concert. This one was a music festival with professional bands. People again descended upon our hamlet. This one was held a little further away from me and definitely brought more people and a greater variety of types from neighbors to professionals from all walks of life. From what I heard--four bands were featured, saving the quieter venues for early morning. My husband and I were picking chokecherries right behind the concert and could hear it plainly, but as we finished and walked down our lane we were disappointed not to be able to hear the music anymore.

I was surprised the next morning when I opened my paper to see a very angry letter printed in the Logan newspaper about not the first concert, but the second concert. What's worse is that the Herald Journal had not adequately screened the writer of the letter and had inadvertently allowed a pseudonym "Helen Waite" from Avon. Now for some reason I didn't catch the joke right off. I mean it sounds like a real name only I was pretty sure no one existed with that name--here. We're a small town and know most folks. Then someone said, so do you go to Hell 'en Wait after you've been to Paradise and I along with most others caught the joke. Only jokes are supposed to be funny and clever and this letter was neither. It was mean-spirited. And mean-spiritedness isn't what most of us in this town are about. I hope the letter writer has since recovered from their temporary lack of decorum and won't repeat their vitriol next year when the concert is held again.

There was another pretty loud musical event held this last Saturday right next door to me. It was a barn dance, lots of fun and full of good will. This is what I love about my town. I love that we had a decent rock and roll band and a country western band play and all with local talent. I hope there won't be any letters to the editor. I hope we don't discourage diversity.

Fire-fighting Females and Lovely Meadows

We just wanted to see the flowers on the hike to White Pine. Our daughter was home from California for a few days, but the hike ended up being a little more than we bargained for. I'd done the hike the week before and wasn't sure I had the energy to make it all the way. Dear daughter ended up running the last mile, so she could see the lake and get back to swim at a friend's pool. She wanted to pack all of Utah summer fun into short time she had. So she ran down to the lake, passing a group of middle-aged women from Shelley, Idaho. They were on their way back and when I got to them they said they'd wanted to give daughter a speeding ticket. On our way back we came across the women again when they were fighting a fire left by a careless camper. My husband and daughter joined them to see what they could do. I sent a group of young hikers up to join them and our daughter ran down the trail to report the fire that was now engulfing a tree and spreading. Shovels and professionals were needed, not just a group of Chaco wearing kids, Nalgene water bottles, and fearless females snapping pictures and stomping out flames.
So I ended up hiking down, figuring I could wait by Tony's Grove, stay cool, get a drink, and eat some more. Yeah, well they'd had enough help. So on my way down, daughter was on her way back up. She had reported the fire and and was now headed back to take more water to her dad. She mentioned that she had to break into the car with a stick because she'd forgotten the key. So I waited at the car for a couple of hours, fully expecting to see the firefighters show up. My head ached from the sun, not enough water or food. It was hours later than I had expected or prepared to be out. No one ever showed up to fight the fire, but finally the Relief Society ladies from Shelly, Idaho come down the mountain. They reported that they had seen my daughter on the trail, mentioned her running ability and asked if she is in competition. By now she had logged over ten miles--mostly running. Mick, they said was checking hot spots. I took photos of them for their scrap books and maybe to pass around in church. And Mick finally showed up--no daughter! He hadn't seen her. So he headed back up the trail. Eventually Mick and daughter showed up together. He'd come back a different way. So when daughter got to the fire spot and couldn't find him, she worried she'd find him dead in a pile of black ash, or slumped over from a heart attack.
Daughter missed her chance to swim that day, but she had an adventure and got plenty of exercise. I got a migraine but still enjoyed the beautiful meadows and weather. Some women from Shelley, Idaho went beyond the call of duty and possibly saved Tony Grove area from a major forest fire, but whomever started it--will never even know the disaster they caused, and some forest rangers should thank all of them for saving them the trouble. So to all of you who fought the fire on the White Pine trail without thanks from anyone--the group of kids, the couple who first saw it, the lovely Relief Society group, my beautiful daughter, and my tireless husband. Thanks. You did a good thing.

On a Wing and a Prayer

My good friends Larry and Barbara (also my brother-in-law and sister-in-law) told me they are sick to death of reading Pigs, Pigs, Pigs and wondered when I would update my blog. Hurray!!! Someone is actually reading my blog. Sorry to those of you who have stuck with me through my busy time of year. I've had a bunch of art festivals and family events. But now here's something interesting...I hope.

It happened this way. We’d just seen an entire pack of wolves in the Lamar Valley in Yellowstone National Park. We’d seen wolves before, but never anything like this—seven all together. I was still on a high from the rare sight. It was starting to be dusky light and we hoped to get back to the cabin in Silver Gate Montana before our little grandchildren went to bed for the night, so I drove a pretty good clip, still pausing the car when we saw elk, deer, antelope, and huge bison, literally on the road at times.
I was going around 50 mph when Mick said, “Don’t hit it.”
“What?” Then I could see it too. A little gosling, or something tiny standing in the middle of the highway. I swerved around it. Then Mick decided he needed to help the little bird get across the busy highway. Besides now a car was approaching in the opposite direction. Would it hit the bird? I couldn’t find a good place to turn around on the narrow highway. Finally, I just turned around, miles past the bird.
When we got back to the spot, the other car we’d seen was stopped in the road. Had they hit the bird? We couldn’t see anything smashed and then they drove over into a turnout. We pulled alongside their car—now noting that it was a gray Subaru Forester almost exactly like ours, only a bit more packed with stuff and two young women, probably in their twenties in front. We’ve always felt a camaraderie with Subaru drivers. There are usually at least a few things you will have in common. It’s kind of like a giant club. We rolled our window down and so did they.
“Did you help the bird?” I asked.
“Yes.” The driver said in a timid voice. She had a look on her face like she was hiding a secret.
Then we heard—chirp, chirp, chirp. And she held the fuzzy yellow gosling up for us to see.
“What should we do with it?” She asked.
Mick was convinced we’d be able to find the other part of her family. So we began to look for a mother and father goose. We traipsed up and down the banks of the very swift and full Soda Butte River, but couldn’t find any sign of the parents. We didn’t dare put it in the water, because we knew without a mother it would be lost in the roar of rushing water.
We discussed what our options were. We could take it to the rangers, but one of the young women worked in Mammoth, and figured if they showed it to the rangers they would lecture her to let nature take its course and abandon the bird. Or worse slap a fine. There are rules a plenty to be broken in the Park. In Yellowstone it is not acceptable to interfere with nature, but in this case—the road caused the gosling to get lost. The road doesn’t fit into the wild scheme of survival of the fittest, at least in my view it shouldn’t. The young women kept calling it a duck, but it was a gosling. Anyway after jokes about bird-napping, they took the baby—determined to find some calmer waters ahead where they knew some other ducks or geese or whatever.

"I like your car," the driver said before pulling away.

I’m hoping on a wing and prayer that the little gosling somehow makes it.