Spanish Fork Weekend

Demaree had a voice lesson with Ariel Bybee last weekend, so we spent a couple days in Utah. Specifically, we stayed with some old friend from Provo: Randy and Natalie. Dem and Natalie roomed together when Dem and I were dating. Eventually, Natalie and Randy started dating, and we all ended up getting married within a few months of one another. We stayed in touch until Dem and I moved to Vegas, and then all was lost. Well, all was lost until the great goodness of Facebook brought us back together again (I really rather like Facebook, just for this reason).

The moment we walked in their house, it was like we had stayed in touch over all these years. Turns out Randy and I went to law school about the same time, and now we're both civil litigators. Their kids are great, and were wonderful with Elliot. It was a great time.

Before going to Salt Lake on Saturday afternoon, we had a picnic with Denis and Lisa. We ate and watched Elliot play on the grass. What could be better?

Dem's lessons are always fun. She sings and we are relegated to Ariel and Jim's study for an hour and a half. Actually, it's nice. Elliot and I watch TV, and I read while he looks outside the window or plays with whatever he can find.

And then there was dinner at the Bombay House: our favorite restaurant. The food was excellent, like always. At the end of dinner, we put Elliot on the floor. He ran to the waiting area, and in the five seconds it took us to catch up to him, he identified the cutest blonde women in the area, climbed up in between them on their bench, and smiled away. They, of course, thought he was adorable. As I approached, I looked at him, then at the ladies, and said: "As you can tell, my son likes blondes." Needless to say, prying him from the bench was a chore.

The next day, we went to Sacrament meeting with Randy and Natalie, where we heard Natalie's talk regarding the law of tithing. (Good talk, by the way). In the talk following Natalie, the sister told us how after much prayer, she and he husband felt guided to stop paying their mortgage because it had become too much of a strain. (Yeah, I'm not buying that one either.)

Then, reluctantly, we drove home. Good weekend.

Hoecakes

We have recently discovered the goodness of hoecakes — not to be confused with hocakes, which is another thing entirely. Hoecakes are small cornmeal pancakes, but being made with corn instead of flour, have a very different texture. They're versatile, and a bit healthier than flour pancakes, and can be tweeked for sweet and savory applications. The following is a recipe for breakfast hoecakes.

Ingredients
3/4 cup cornmeal
1/4 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon sugar or honey
1 large egg
3/4 cup water
1/2 fresh or thawed frozen corn
vegetable oil

Directions
Place the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, egg, and water into a bowl and stir to combine. Once mixed, stir in the corn. The mixture should be the consistency of pancake batter. Place a cast iron skillet or griddle over medium heat. Brush with vegetable oil and heat until shimmering. Pour enough batter onto the skillet or griddle to form a 4-inch round, approximately 2 tablespoons. Depending on the size of your griddle or skillet, you can cook more than 1 cake at a time. Cook until brown on both sides, 2 ½ minutes per side. Serve immediately or transfer to a warm (200 degrees F) oven until all of the cakes are done.

To finish, top with whatever you like. I'm partial to butter, bananas, and syrup.

Mornings with Elliot

We've previously chronicled Elliot's bedtime routine, so we though it only appropriate to chronicle his morning routine.

Mornings begins around 5.30 a.m. Elliot wakes up famished. We feed him a bottle and he usually sleeps until around 6.30, at which time he lets us know he wants out of the crib. Most often, we transfer Elliot to our bed and try to catch some more Zs with Elliot sleeping between us. This is when what I like to call the "ballet of power" begins.

Around 7, I invariably feel a little hand outlining the contours of my face until it reaches me ear. When found, the ear is latched onto — hard. It stays latched until the little hand ventures across the bed to find Demaree's ear. After ear manipulation has outlasted its usefulness, Elliot props himself up. He examines our faces to determine whether we're awake (at this point, we're faking sleep so he'll leave us alone), then either grabs and pulls Demaree's hair or lays his cheek on Demaree's cheek. (If he's really tired, his head will descend too quickly, causing quite a loud head-butt.) If Demaree doesn't react, Elliot abandons her and crawls across my face in an effort to reach my wallet, keys, and bic pen sitting on my night stand. It's about now I just can't take it anymore, so I remove Elliot from my face, put him on the leather recliner, turn the TV on Noggin, and attempt further repose. Lazy Town pacifies the child for ten to fifteen minutes, at which time he disembarks the recliner, approaches me, and slaps me (lovingly, I'm sure) on the face. Realizing the ballet has entered its ultimate crescendo and power has inexorably shifted to Elliot, I acquiesce and arise.

And somehow, we can't wait for the next one to come along.

Elliot the Kissing Machine

An interesting item we've recently learned about Elliot is his propensity to kiss girls about his same age. Invariably, these "lipscapades" happen in church. Elliot's last lipscapade was Sunday. During sacrament meeting, he approach a little blonde girl and planted one dead center on her lips. He then, like a seasoned kisser, moved away and let her make the next move. Evidently, she liked it because she puckered up and came searching for more. Elliot was having none of it. He was finished. When she got close, he turned his head and walked away. What a beautiful, beautiful little man.

What not to Wear

There's a funny, intriguing show on TLC called What not to Wear. Two highly humorous and rather hoity-toity New Yorkers who make fun of people who dress, well, badly. It's one of our favorite shows, and not because of the fashion so much as the hosts' pervasive snarkiness. (E.g., "That outfit makes you look like your trying to find a date at a women's prison.") Well, we would like to nominate someone as a What not to Wear participant. Our nominee is a 5'10", partially balding, heavy-set, goateed, latino man, who we saw in public with his pregnant wife and child wearing the following shirt:

That's right folks, "Free Chorizo." Now I've seen a lot of trashy clothing choices in my day (mordibly obese women in thong bikinis, for example), but this definitely takes the cake, or the chorizo as it were. Only heaven knows what possesses people, especially fat and inordinately ugly people, to wear this stuff. So here's the moral of this story kids: the next time you think to yourself, "Hmm, I think today would be a good day to wear my vulgar, sexually suggestive t-shirt in public," don't. No one wants to see it (and yes, I'm talking both about "it" and the shirt).