A Foodie's Journey and Baked Egg, Spinach, and Bacon Breakfast

Growing up my Mom always made the most amazing food. She is know throughout our neighborhood for her amazing cookies and deserts. No joke. Because of this I never really bothered to learn myself. I would make cookies now and again if I was feeling the need for some chocolate and she didn't want to make them, but other than that, I was helpless in the kitchen. Like, burn the boiling water helpless. I think my Grandma even gave me a cooking themed birthday package one year. The only thing I ever made from the cookbooks she gave me was an egg omelet that had like 4 ingredients...my mom ended up being the only one to use the supplies. 

Leaving for college and heading straight to the dorms with as many meals as I wanted handed to me at the cafeteria didn't help my situation any. It was hamburgers and fries all day every day. When I was finally at an apartment and on my own for food my sophomore year, I began to realize that I missed my mom's cooking more than ever. Ramen and spaghetti from a can just wasn't cutting it. It wasn't really until last year that I finally started taking the leap into what my little sister calls "fancy food" (in other words, anything that is healthy, slightly gourmet or doesn't look like a dish my mom has made in the past). Once I got started, I couldn't stop! My bloglovin feed was full of foodie blogs and the only reason I went on Pinterest was for recipes (okay, and cat memes). I don't even remember the last time I reused a recipe unless it was to make it for my family when I go home because it was that good. I'm sort of addicted to trying out new dishes and continuing to add supplies to my kitchen cabinets. I now have to not only steer clear of the makeup aisle when I go shopping, but the kitchen supplies as well. It's a bad habit guys. I have 4 different sets of measuring cups.

If you had told my mother when I was 16 that one day I would be making "fancy food" for myself almost every night of the week, she would have laughed in your face! But, sometimes the impossible does happen. So to all of those processed food, take out meal lovers out there who are waiting for someone to give them the courage to bring that pot of water to a boil, I'm here to say DO IT! You won't regret it. And you'll love yourself for all the yummy concoctions you come up with...well, that others come up with and you steal off their blogs or Pinterest :) 

So what fueled this little foodie rant of mine? My friend Tiana was requesting the recipe for a dish I posted on Instagram and Facebook, and I decided I had changed it enough from the original blog I got it from that I could probably just post it here instead of sending her to a different link. I'm hoping this is the first of many food related posts. I have been wanting to jump into the world of food blogging for awhile now and this may be the start of something new and exciting. We'll see what happens :)

Don't you just love my professional Instagram food photography? ;)

Baked Egg, Spinach, and Bacon Breakfast 

INGREDIENTS

1 Tbsp. olive oil or butter

1 small set of green onions, minced

6 oz (a couple of handfuls-I didn't really measure it out) spinach, chopped

salt and pepper to taste

4 pieces of bacon, cooked

4 eggs

1/4 cup Asiago cheese (or Parmesan, or mozzarella - whatever you have in your fridge), grated

4 tsp. milk

DIRECTIONS

1: Preheat oven to 350 F and spray 4 ramekins (I got mine for Christmas-in love! They are so cute!) with cooking spray. Set on a baking sheet. 

2: Cook bacon until crunchy and able to be broken apart. Break apart one piece into the bottom of each ramekin.

3: Drizzle olive oil or butter in a small skillet over medium heat. Add the green onion and cook for 2-3 minutes until they are soft. Add the chopped spinach and cook until wilted (only took about a minute). Season with salt and pepper. Divide the onion/spinach mixture between the four ramekins on top of the bacon.

4: Crack one egg on top of the mixture in each ramekin. (If you are OCD like me, swish the egg around until it sits in the middle.)

5: Drizzle each egg with 1 tsp milk.

6: Split the asiago cheese between the four ramekins and season each with salt and pepper.

7: Bake for about 20 minutes (more if you like your yoke less runny like me) and enjoy!



These are seriously delicious, healthy, and for being so small, fill you up! Let me know what you think of my little recipe post and hopefully there will be more in the future :)

xoxo

C.R.M.

'Merica Day and D.I.Y. Beaded Bracelet Tutorial

I came home to good ol Springville, Utah for a long Fourth of July weekend to spend time eating way too much food, petting my cat, playing with my family, and running into an ex-boyfriend, his wife and baby at the freedom festival. Yeah...did I say hello? No. Avoided like the plague. But I must admit that I really love the Fourth of July! Something about fireworks, red, white, and blue, and parades gets me all excited!

Sisters, sisters, never knew such devoted sisters! 

Apparently I was the only one that got the "model pose" memo

My favorite buy of the weekend. A fork made into an elephant necklace. Thank you Provo Freedom Festival.

My other favorite accessory of the day--Stylish Stitchings 4th of July bow of course! 

As we were recovering from a couple hours sitting in the sun at the parade in Provo (we had a spot saved under a tree until someone moved our blankets in the middle of the night--apparently people are pretty cut throat about their parade spots!), my little sister and I got busy making some cute bracelets she had learned how to make at a Young Women's activity through our church.These cute and easy bracelets fit the whole "stacking bracelet" trend that's been going around and let me warn you now: making them is addicting!! So I decided that it's time for another tutorial!

Step One: 

Gather all the supplies you will need. Of course I forgot something in the picture: tape. But it really doesn't require very many supplies. We ended up having everything on hand already. You can replace the hemp string to anything from leather thread, to twin, depending on the look you want. You do need something that is thin enough to tie. 

Step Two: 

Cut a length of hemp that is twice as long as your wrist plus some. You will need enough to make a loop at the top and tie the button on at the other end. I always give myself a lot more than I think I will need just in case. I hate it when I get to the end and don't have enough room to finish it off!

Step Three: 

Fold your length of hemp in half and tie a knot at the folded end to make a loop. The loop should be large enough to fit your butt on of choice through it, but not so big the button will just fall out. 

Step Four: 

Tape the loop of your string down to the table and leave enough table space for the length of your bracelet to sit on the table (you will need to hold down the strings, so you can't tape it down to the end of the table like a normal friendship bracelet). For some reason I couldn't get my picture to rotate, sorry folks, but you get the idea. You will also want to tape the opposite end down so the strings are tight against the table with about a 1/4" in-between the two strings. 

Step Five: 

Thread your needle and tie it off at the end of the string. Make the doubled over string as long as you can without it running the risk of getting tangled as you sew the beads on. Once you have your thread ready, tie the knotted end onto the lefthand hemp string. I tied a triple or so knot just to insure it was tight up to the top of the string by the knot that makes the loop. You can leave the knotted end hanging until you are done with the bracelet or you can trim the loose end right away. 

Step Six: 

Okay, so I realized I skipped a couple of easy steps while i was taking pictures, so hopefully this will make sense. If not, please let me know! Next you want to string a bead onto the string you just tied to the hemp. After you have strung the bead on, using the needle, go under the second piece of hemp and pull the bead tight like in the picture below. Then go through the bead again. This is making a loop around the second hemp string and holding the bead in place from both sides. 

Step Seven:

Now that you have gone through the bead again with the needle, go back under the 1st hemp string and pull the thread tight, fitting the bead snugly in-between the two hemp strings. Once the bead is secured and in the position you want it to be in, string another bead onto the thread and repeat the steps. 

Step Eight:

Keep adding beads until you get to the desired length of bracelet, anklet or wrap around bracelet (just make the hemp thread lengths twice as long so you can double it over). 

Step Nine: 

Once you have all the desired beads on the hemp, it is time to secure the button. Take the tape off of the table, cut off the needle, and pull the three strings together at the end (the two hemp strings and the sewing string) to make a knot as close to the bottom bead as possible. 

Below is what the knot should look like with all three strings included. 

Step Ten: 

Once the knot is in place, you can tie on your button and trim the sewing string off near the knot (I tied my sewing string a couple of times around the base of the knot just in case, but you don't have to). Put one hemp string thorough one set of holes and the other string through the other holes, pulling the button tight. If you have a two hole button, then string both of the hemp strings through both holes. 

Step Eleven: 

Turn the button over the tie the two hemp strings together to secure the bracelet. If you have a two hole button, tie the two hemp strings around the knot by the base of the bracelet. 

Now you have a completed beaded friendship bracelet and you are ready to make ten more for yourself, family and friends! :) I got good enough at making them that my little sister who taught me how wanted me to make some for her rather than do them herself! Ha!

Here is what the double strand bracelet looks like (I think this one might be my favorite). 

I hope you enjoyed this tutorial and that you have found a new favorite pass time while watching movies on lazy summer nights! Please comment if anything is unclear :) Hope everyone had a fantastic 4th of July!

xoxo

C.R.M.

I'm Starting With The Woman In The Mirror I'm Asking Her To Change Her Ways

I should really do the next post on my Black Hole adventure (my friend was giving me grief for having the first two post not even be about our actual trip), but I have some other thoughts that have been weighing on my mind that want to spill forth from my tapping fingers.

Page from my sketchbook last year

If there is one thing I have learned in the past year (or even the past 6 months) about myself is that change freaks me out. Big time. The thought of change doesn't really do anything, that usually just sounds exciting and adventurous, but when that change actually happens my brain is all:

"Wwwhhoooaa there sister. What just happened here? We were totally fine just the way we were thank you very much. Now go cry in the corner and think about what you have done."

Then there is much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Ok, so it's more like listening to moody music and crying to my mom on the phone, but things happen. And it ain't pretty.

I realized that this breakdown syndrome happened to me every time I made a big change when I made the very rash decision to move about four months ago. I decided I was going to move on a Wednesday and I was completely moved out by that Saturday. My little sister was also at Primary Children's for a surgery at this time which meant I was up there visiting her and talking to my parents all week. Having their support, even if it was just verbal because they couldn't leave to help me move boxes, was so needed at that time. They were my lifeline, and even though it was so sad that my little sister had to go through what she did for surgery, I loved having them be a ten minute (if that) drive away. After getting all moved in on Saturday, Sunday was my first full day at the new place. It was also the day my sister was released from the hospital. The day they would all be leaving to go back down to Springville. I had a lot of homework to do as well, so after giving some hugs, I left the hospital to eat lunch and get settled. And that's when the craziness of the previous four days came crashing down on me. I couldn't handle it. What had I done? What was in store for me in this new place? I had been at my old apartment for almost two years. I had gotten use to everything (and honestly that was one of the reasons I felt like I needed to move). This move had sounded like a great idea three days before. But in that moment I just wanted it all to disappear. I had something to eat and rushed back up to the hospital for one extra hour with my parents before they left.

I cried.

I got hugged and told everything would be fine.

Then they left.

And you know what?

Everything was fine.

Was it perfect? No. Is it perfect now? Not really. But have I learned and grown and developed because of this rash change that I was prompted to make? Yes. That's the thing with change, it isn't always just bad or good. Sometimes there are changes that seem like they should create huge new waves in your life that in the end, don't really do all that much for it. Or at least it seems like they don't in the beginning. But I believe that every change and every new direction we turn in our lives, if we are trying to be guided by the spirit, will lead us where we need to be. That may not mean that moving into a new ward will equal an eternal companion or that you will never miss your hometown when you move to the big city, but if you will let it, change can be a beautiful thing that can open up your life to new experiences and new people that would never have been available to you had you stuck your head in the sand like an ostrich and refused to move.

And now I am facing another move, just fourish short months after my realization and I can say that going through the terror and frustration of that first move has truly opened me up to the opportunities change can bring rather than the disappointments. I've learned to look inside myself and tell that girl in the mirror that it's all going to work out. Will this move be perfect and take away all of my problems? I can almost guarantee the answer to that will be a no. But it will all work out because it has in the past and haven't we all been taught that history repeats itself?

Wish me luck.

xoxo
C.R.M.

The Black Hole Experience Part Two: The Wet Suit Dabacle of 2013

Where did I leave off? Oh yeah. The drama.

So over Memorial Day weekend, it was also my little brother's graduation from high school. I decided to make the long weekend even longer and took the Thursday and Friday before the weekend off of work so I could spend that time with my family down in Springville. This meant that I was going to be meeting up with Alex and his Provo friends rather than just driving down from Salt Lake with him and anyone else up from that way. This also meant it was up to me to procure a wetsuit on my own.

Yikes.

Alex let me know I could get one at the BYU Outdoor Recreation Center (I don't think that's even the right name...oh well. Go UTES!), but that I should wait until later in the day on Saturday to get it so I wouldn't have to stress about returning it early on Tuesday.

I had a bunch of errands to run in Provo that morning, so my little brother and I went out to lunch and enjoyed shooting movie quotes back and forth at eachother as we scoured the city. When it finally came time to pick up my wetsuit, it was around 2 in the afternoon. The sales girl who was available asked me what I needed and headed over to a seeminly empty rack where the wetsuits (I'm guessing) usually hung.

Girl: Oh...it looks like we are low on suits.

Me: That's okay, I only need one.

Girl: Looks like we only have women's mediums and smalls left.

Me thinking: I've lost weight in the past year. I've been buying a lot more mediums. It might be kind of short on me, but I'm sure it will fit everywhere else, and they look stretchy.

Me: A medium might work

The girl took a medium suit off the rack and held it up to me--the edges of the suit were 2 inches in on my torso on both sides.

Me thinking: Wow. That's a confidence builder. Were these made for girls with eating disorders? Nope. I'm just fat big boned. But it will probably stretch. I'll be fine. 

Girl: Yeah, that will probably fit!

Me: Could I try it on just to make sure?

Girl: Sure, just down that hall.

I handed my purse to my little brother (I know he loves it when I do this. Every time I come back from making him hold my purse he's standing awkwardly, holding it in front of him as if he might catch some disease by being seen holding a women's purse. Cooties are real people. And apparently can even be caught by interactions between siblings. Watch out.) and headed to the provided bathroom. Side not: you could tell that the building was owned by BYU because the bathroom looked exactly like every bathroom you go into owned by the church anywhere. It even smelled the same. Weird. I locked myself in a stall, took off my shoes and stuck my feet into the leg holes.

I could barely even pull the suit up over my calves.

All of the "it will stretch!" pep talks I had given myself minutes earlier were put to shame. These things have zero stretch. Which I guess makes sense for their purpose, but is not so great on the whole self image thing. I peeled the sandy suit off and made my walk of shame back into the main room trying not to feel like a walking, breathing, balloon. Forrest was standing awkwardly (as per usual) and the girl was nowhere to be found. I hung the suit back up next to its skinny friends and wandered into the next room with the cash register. The girl was helping out another employee (very apparently his first day on the job) ring someone up and none of the employees were wearing name tags or anything so I couldn't tell who else in the place might be able to help me and who just looked legit because they were use to renting things like kayaks, climbing shoes, and canoes.

We waited a painfully long time for the transaction at the front to be completed and finally the girl was available for me to ask a very improtant question.

Girl: Did it not fit?

Me: No...it was pretty small. One size up and it might have fit.

Girl: Dang, that's too bad.

Me: Do you know of anywhere else locally I could rent a suit?

Girl:.....(long pause)....No, I don't really know of one. Sorry!

And off she went to help the next poor sop in line.

I walked out of the store completely defeated. The trip was the next day. The water we were going to be swimming through was suppose to be fridged. It came all came down to one thing:

No Wetsuit = No Canyoneering for Chelsea

I texted Alex asking if he had gotten his suit yet and if he could grab one for me up in SLC, but he had gotten his the day earlier since they weren't open on the weekends. He very graciously offered his to me, as he "had always wanted to try doing the canyon without one" (macho-man-chivalry-pride at it's finest). I was about to accept his offer just so I could join in on the trip when Forrest remembered a suba shop in downtown Springville (Most random thing ever? Yes.) that might have some to rent. Good old Suba Ted's. I gave them a call and low and behold they had some in stock!! We finished up with the rest of our errands and headed home with a short stop by Suba Ted's.

We parked at the sketchy looking laundry mat and walked into the shop where we were accosted by a very fishy, oceany, smell. Are they trying to pretend you can actually smell the ocean in the middle of Utah? Because that just ain't gonna happen. Anyways, I asked the man behind the counter if I could rent on of their wetsuits. He answered with a question that I knew was a bad sign as soon as it left his mouth:

(It's called Suba Ted's, therefore I'm going to assume his name was Ted.)

Ted: What are you going to use it for?

Me thinking: I can't flat out say canyoneering. I know that's why he's asking. But I can't lie and say I'm scuba diving. We live in UTAH for goodness sakes, what else but canyon swimming do people even use wetsuits for?

Me: We are going to a canyon that is going to have water in it that's cold.

Ted: *shaking his head and interrupting me before I could even get my full sentence out* Nope, I can't help you. You know that really tears up the suits right? It's just so bad for them.

Me: Oh. Okay. Well I guess you can't help me then.

Ted: Well if you want I could sell you a suit?

Me: How much would that be?

Ted: I have some that are around $100...

Me: No, I can't afford that right now.

Ted: *as I am walking out the door* Well I'm sorry about that--

Me: *No response--Cue closing of the door*

Dear Suba Ted's, how in the WORLD do you get enough business to keep running when you don't even rent your suits out to people wanting to go down a canyon? Do you really get that many customers who take the suits suba diving? I would really like to be proven wrong on this point, because it would make for an awesome trip, but the last time I checked there are no reefs or anything of the type to be seen in the state of Utah. Unless someone is really dying to see the garbage eating fish at the bottom of Utah lake. So thank you for nothing you useless suba store.

At this point I was rather upset and feeling drained from a day of ups and downs "yes I'm going on the trip, no I'm not, yes I am, no I'm not". I contacted Alex letting him know that Ted's was a no-go and he once again suggested I take his suit. I asked "are you sure?" at least fifty times and finally accepted his offer. I really wanted to go on this trip guys. 

The end.





Haha just kidding. The wetsuit debacle of 2013 wasn't over yet.

I was just getting out of Walmart after buying a new (knockoff) camelback and snacks when Alex called me with some smart reasoning as to why I couldn't use his suit. It went something like this:

Alex: So...I don't think you'll be able to use my suit...

Me: Why?

Alex: Well, me and my roommate were talking about it and...well...girls and guys...they have different anatomy...and the suit is already pretty tight over my chest and well...

Me: ...it won't really fit me? (helping him out of his struggle to not make this an awkward conversation which was really just making it even more awkward for himself and more hilarious for me)

Alex: Yeah. Exactly. I'm so sorry! Do you think you could find one anywhere else?

I had actually already texted a friend from high school who had a boat and I thought might have some wet suits to see if I could maybe borrow one, but I hadn't heard back from him. He was my last hold out.

Me: My friend might have one I can borrow, but I haven't heard back from him yet...

Alex: Okay, just let me know. Otherwise I guess you could do it without one...

Me: I'm not sure if I'm hardcore enough for that. I probably just wouldn't be able to come.

And that was when I really thought I wasn't going to be able to go after all the stress, planning, question asking, purchasing, and pumping up of my excitement. Imagonna be honest: I was pretty bummed. I came back home, didn't bother doing any packing, and kinda moped around the house wishing there was another way.

Then came the text from the heavens (aka my high school friend Steve):

His parents had a wetsuit.
They didn't mind if I borrowed it.

YES!

I drove over to their house at 10:30 that night, tried on one suit that was once again way too small (at least people are underestimating my size, right?), and finally settled for one that was a bit too big and shorts instead of full length, but would be good enough.

I called Alex to let him know the drama was finally over and that yes, I was coming--he was pretty relived as he felt it was his fault I didn't get one at the first place because he told me to go later in the day. I assured him it wasn't his fault and that after a crazy day, it was all working out.

I frantically started packing my stuff (trying my hardest not to be a cronic overpacker...because I am) and went to bed with a smile on my face.

I was going canyoneering.

...to be continued. 

C.R.M.
xoxo

The Black Hole Experience (Part One)

Hello my frineds!

I have been meaning to start getting these posts up for a week now and just haven't made the time.

Now I'm making the time. (duh)

So for Memorial Day weekend, my friend Alex invited me to go canyoneering with him and some friends down in Moab. My first thoughts when he invited me to come were:

What the heck is canyoneering?
I've only been hiking once this summer let alone something intense sounding like canyoneering.
I have to get a wetsuit?
I'm in way over my head. 
I will probably die in the canyon and my mom will be right. I should have stayed inside for the rest of my life, never facing the dangerous outdoors. 
Sleeping under the stars? 
I'm pretty sure I will be eaten to death by bugs before I even have the chance to die in the canyon. 
We have to carry in all of our own water? 
Now add dehydration to the list of ways I will die on this trip. 
 
But what actually came out of my mouth (because I'm a tough, macho, "I won't let anyone know I'm afraid because then I'm a silly girly girl who can't be taken seriously" type of person) was:

"Sure! Sounds like fun!"

My little brother Forrest thought the same thing (What the heck is canyoneering?) when I was talking about it and unbeknownst to me, looked it up. Being the concerned brother he was, he tried to talk me out of doing this dangerous activity that could very well end in an untimely death. I asked him why he was so concerned about me going and he explained what he thought canyoneering was. The definition that he had pulled up on his phone said something like: "Letting oneself be taken by the current of a river down a canyon with no rafts or boats."

Ha!

I had a good laugh and thankfully was able to let him know that was NOT what I would be participating in the coming Monday. What we would really be doing was the following:

The sport of exploring canyons (as by climbing, rappelling, swimming, or rafting) 

A veiw of the Black Hole canyon (No this isn't my picture and no this doesn't do it justice. Well, besides the color of the water. That is pretty accurate. Lol)

Must less scary (I think...)

It was going to be a short trip (drive down Sunday afternoon, camp, sleep, hike, drive home Monday afternoon) and was promised to be a beginners climb that a newbie to all things outdoors (like myself) would be able to handle. I was pumped. I was going to be able to try something new and add another item to my Summer Adventures list.

After asking Alex about a bazillion questions ranging from "where should I meet you guys" to "should I bring a blanket?" I was feeling ready to go and uber excited.

Then the drama began.

to be continued...

xoxo
C.R.M.

Of Drunkards and Graduates

I was about to type "what a weekend it's been!" and then I realized the weekend isn't even here yet...ha. I've been in weekend mode ever since Monday because of my three day work week (aka, pretty much the best thing that has happened this month) due to my little brother Forrest graduating from high school. I love that kid to death and I can't believe it's been three years since it was me singing in the choir and walking across that stage, letting my smile get more and more stiff the more pictures were taken. Strange.

On a different note, the thing I really wanted to write about tonight is something that I find interesting:  humans.

I have always been an avid people watcher (maybe this is why I love the city so much). More often than not, this ends with me laughing out loud to myself over someone's outfit, hairdo or overheard conversation. Now this may sound like I walk around, putting myself up on a pedestal and laughing at others eccentricities. But in reality, I just find the way that people express themselves so interesting. I constantly think to myself as I walk around a grocery store or downtown in City Creek: "What has lead that person or that one over there to get to this point in their life? How did they come to be here at this moment? And what made them decide to shave half of their hair off and dye the other half bright blue?!?"

I had one of these "why?!?" moments when I came home late this Monday night. I had just gotten done playing a grueling (yet amazing) 3 hours of ultimate frisbee and was ready to jump into bed and fall asleep before my head touched the pillow--as they say. I drove up the driveway that goes along the side of my apartment complex, said "hi" to the cat that is always sitting in one of the windowsills in a basement apartment (I have decided it is a her and every morning she's there she gets a "there's my kitty!" from my car. I'm cool like that.), rounded the corner into the parking lot behind the building and almost ran right over someone who was lying in the middle of the road at 12:30 at night. 

My first response?

Panic.

Thought process:

They are clearly dead or dying. 
I've never seen a dead person before. 
This is why I've never gone to a viewing. 
Should I call 911?
What if another car turns the corner and actually runs them over? 
What if I would have run him over?
And what happened to them in the first place?
Was there a shooting? 
Overdose on drugs? 
Did they just pass out on their way to the door? 
Suicide?
What if they got knifed or something? 
The person could still be out there...waiting to attack me next. 
Why do I live in the city? 
Mom was right, there ARE creepy people in Salt Lake!

I quickly parked and turned off my car, ready to do my civic duty to try and help this poor person get to a hospital or at least get in touch with the police for them so they could get some help. I got out of my car and started walking over when two other guys stepped out from the shadows of the back door of the apartment building.

They pulled out a knife and...

Just kidding. There were no knives mom.

Just a LOT of alcohol.

The person lying on the ground started to moan as his friends walked over to him, "Idon'twannabehitbyacar, Idon'twannabehitbyacar, Idon'twannabehitbyacar." He was so drunk he couldn't stand up by himself and his friends were drunk enough that the only reaction they had to his impending death or maiming if a car wasn't paying attention when they turned the corner, was to laugh hysterically. I quickly walked past them rolling my eyes and lowering my heart rate.

This time my thought process:

WHAT THE HECK?

This people watching experience did not leave me with such a positive sense of wonderment at the human race unfortunately. More, it cemented in my mind the fact that the decisions I have made with my life are good and will keep me from ever being in the predicament of not being able to control myself of my own free will.

We all have the choice to do what we want with our lives, but I guess I choose not to lie in the middle of the road begging my friends to stop me from getting run over.

I'll stick with keeping people entertained by my cat shirts and mustache necklaces.

But I guess to each his own!

C.R.M.
xoxo

I Guess I'm Deprived

Some of my coworkers are planning a camping trip to Moab over Memorial Day at the end of the month and have invited me to come along. At first thought it sounded like a blast: a chance to go to Arches again, get some sun, try not to come back looking like a lobster (you can get really sick of people trying to spread butter on you and crack open your shell), and jamming out to music road trip style. You know, the perfect summer vacation weekend trip. As I was contemplating again this morning the pros and cons of joining the trip, I realized something rather surprising:

I have only been "real" camping a handful of times and only twice that I can remember where it wasn't something church related where the leaders of my church group planned everything for us and supplied the important things like tents and marshmallows.

My family has never been the camping type or to be completely honest, the "let's-go-outside-in-the-mountains-and-have-family-bonding-experiences" type. For recreation we would rather go play a game of three on three basketball at the church (where my dad just stuffs everyone and we foul uncontrollably) or even better, watch BYU basketball on TV and dream about the Jimmer glory days.

We see hiking the "Y" in Provo as a challenge.

Going on a "bike ride" = a couple turns around the cul-de-sac.

Climbing is only mentioned when stairs are involved.

So what are the two camping experiences my family has had you might ask? Well, let me 'splain.

Trip One:

I honestly don't remember much of this experience. I was only 6 or 7 at the time, it was a ward camp-out, we probably ate some smores, pretty sure my mom didn't sleep at all, and I recall a lot of snoring. Not sure if the snoring was from my father or other ward members. Possibly both.

We also have some excellent home video footage of all of us wide awake in our tent at 11pm (my little brother and I can hardly hold in our excitement at the chance to sleep on cots, in a tent, in the mountains, which of course equals two wired children not even close to falling asleep), 1am (my little brother is asleep, I'm getting there and my mom has that "we are never doing this again" look in her eye and some awesome 80's inspired glasses adorning the look), and then somewhere around 3am (mom and dad are still awake, but to their relief I am sure, the kidos have drifted off to dreamland and my dad blinds my mom with the video camera light which results in much squinting and whispered complaints).

Trip Two:

I guess my mom and dad either had some sort of out of body experience that made them forget how horrible the first camping experience was, or decided to give camping the benefit of the doubt and accept it's request of a second date--"everyone deserves a second chance"--because when ward camp-out time rolled around, we were packing our sleeping bags. I had my baby bags full of enough toys to entertain myself for months, let alone two days and one night, my childhood innocence having masked just how uncomfortable those cots really were. 

I'm sure the majority of the first day went much like the year before: exploring, dinner, smores, campfire, bugs, bear sightings (I wish) and restless excitement when bedtime rolled around. There was also probably some snoring and blinding from the video camera lazer light.

But there was one difference: the rain.

And I'm not talking a soft sprinkling, I'm talking a wash-away-your-cat-down-the-gutter type of downpour. At one time in the past (stone age maybe?) our tent had been waterproofed, but needless to say any preemptive actions had long ago been washed away (pun intended). We didn't really understand just how bad the situation was until pools of rainwater started forming on top of our tent...and the dripping began. Then the rain came down and the floods came up and the bottom of our tent was starting to dampen our backsides. This was not good. In my 6 or 7 year old memories I imagine it looking something like this:

I believe (surprisingly enough) that I was asleep for most of the decision making period of what to do with a tent full of rainwater at 4 in the morning, but I remember being rudely awakened, told to grab whatever I didn't want to get wet, being wrapped in a blanket or sleeping bag and being carried to our minivan my dad had pulled up and parked (probably illegally) close to the campsite. My parents ran back and forth from the tent grabbing the essentials as if the rain was acid and anything left behind would be dust before we could retrieve it in the morning.
We waved goodbye to our tents, gunned the engine, and headed home in the downpour. I like to think that the other ward members woke up the next morning in their dry little tents and came out to see our abandoned campsite and panicked, thinking it must have been a bear attack that took us away. I mean, nothing else would make you leave a perfectly good campsite in the middle of the night, and abandon your tents right?

I guess my parents learned their lesson the second time because we have not joined in on a full fledged camping trip in the mountains ever since (at least that I can remember...my mom will probably remind me of some later that have been erased from my remembrance). I feel as if I can rightly blame my parents for my lack of interest and participation in anything that has to do with sleeping on the ground.

I guess you could call me deprived. But maybe I'm just lucky.


C.R.M.
xoxo