October Cooking Fun

After my great success with "cooking" Mango Lassis for my husband, I was on a roll. I next made some Portuguese Bean Soup (a favorite from when I lived in Hawaii), and some Chicken Noodle Soup (when my husband had a bad cold. The soup wasn't his fave, but it did make him feel better!). I even had a Pumpkin Day when my daughter visited, when we baked a whole pumpkin, scooped out the pulp, made Pumpkin Soup and Pumpkin Bread and Pumpkin Seeds, and ate it all for dinner. That was fun, but...here's the thing.

It was fun because I was doing it with my daughter. We could have been making bead bracelets or painting furniture together and it would have been fun. It wasn't fun because it was cooking. The cooking part was messy and hot and stressful and took hours and hours and then there was still an hour of cleaning up to do. We could laugh and chat about it and so that got me through it, but it took seven hours to bake the big squash, mash it up, and create food out of it. If I had been doing that by myself, I would have been lonely and feeling like, "THIS IS TAKING SEVEN HOURS TO MAKE, BUT THEY'LL EAT IT ALL IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!" Sure enough, we ate it all in 15.

I just don't like to cook, I realized. What I like, is to EAT.

Cooking for Two: The Mango Lassi Experiment

Since our mutually-enjoyed pasttimes clearly involved the consumption of foodstuffs, I decided to try to cook for my new husband. Now this may not sound like a very big deal to you, but I had given up cooking long, long ago, due to the fact that nobody ever did anything but criticize anything I made ("WHAT is the green part in this?" "Do we HAVE to eat that?" and, one of my favorites, "Well, the only thing I can find to criticize about this dinner is the color palette"), not to mention that as a single mom working full-time and going to graduate school, I just didn't have time for it. And my kids had gotten big enough to make their own salads and pop their own Pop-tarts in the toaster.

But with all the kids off at college, the workload cut back, and graduate school reduced to a manageable internship, I had some time on my hands. So I decided to make Mango Lassis. This may not seem like cooking to you, since no heat--or sharp utensils--are involved. But it was cooking to me, for it involved a recipe and ingredients and my time, and it could be criticized. I chose Mango Lassis because they are my husband's favorite Indian drink, sort of a mango smoothie, and because we had a can of "mango pulp" from India in our pantry, a gift from my husband's good friend Hirin's father, who owns a mango farm in India. So I got online to find a recipe.

There were a dozen different recipes for Mango Lassis! Some involved yogurt and milk, some left out the milk, some required only fresh mango, others insisted that the acid in fresh mangos would ruin the drink and that only canned pulp should be used. None of the recipes used the same proportions. Every other recipe included a spice called cardamom, which sounded so cool I decided I would definitely use some of that. And there was even a jar of it in the pantry (what on earth had my husband used it for?) After studying all of the recipes carefully, I fixed upon one that contained the mango pulp and cardamom I had on hand, as well as yogurt (NOT FAT-FREE, it advised in bold letters) and ice, in proportions that were fairly equal and would be easy to remember.

Mango Lassi

2 cups mango pulp (I used Taj brand)

2 cups whole milk plain yogurt (I had to go to a health-food store to find this!)

2 teaspoons sugar

1-2 teaspoons cardamom (I only used one teaspoon the first time because I was chicken, but will use two teaspoons from now on. For one thing, that makes all the ingredients 2 of something.)

2 cups ice

Puree all ingredients in a blender and serve chilled.

Makes 4 one-cup servings (who are we kidding, it barely made two glasses of deliciousness for me and my husband)

Sounds easy, right? It was easy! But I was still sweating bullets as I poured it out into a glass for my husband and he took his first sip. "This is good," he said, and then I took a sip. It WAS good--creamy-rich and smooth and sweet, but not too sweet. The cardamom had the flavor of India itself. It was so good that I had a Mango Lassi for lunch every day until we ran out of mango pulp!

Now that my confidence is up, it's on to my next project: DINNER! I'm starting simple. Soup. I'll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, I'm thinking of getting this t-shirt from http://www.turbaninc.com/:

The Love Diet

I told my husband the other day that my stress level had gone down to about zero since I married him, which I thought was a big bonus. And then I thought to myself, and I actually told my husband, too, because I can tell him anything, that one of the big reasons my stress had decreased was because I had given up dieting once I met him. Because he loved me no matter what!

Since we met in January, we have enjoyed introducing each other to our favorite restaurants and feeding each other our favorite things and just being Foodies together indiscriminately. We ate Key Lime cheesecake at The Cheesecake Factory, New Orleans Beignets (with three sauces!) at the Grand Lux, and sushi at every sushi place in town. We chowed down on Chinese food in Des Moines, Thai food in Houston, Italian food in Hot Springs, Indian food in Dallas, and barbecued beef in Texarkana. We had popcorn and Cokes at every movie, and sometimes even movie dogs with the works, too. We indulged in the ice cream of our choice with our home movies--Mango, Passion Fruit, Chocolate, and Dulce de Leche. And we didn't eat that ice cream out of a bowl, oh no, we ate it right out of the CARTON--our OWN carton.

I watched the pounds pack on almost like a scientist conducting an experiment, and I observed my condition in a bemused way, as if I were gaining weight purposefully for a big movie role like what's-her-name did for Bridget Jones (not that she ever actually got FAT) or Robert DeNiro for Raging Bull. I would pull on a pair of pants and laugh at how they no longer fit, ha ha ha, and throw them in the stack of Clothes That No Longer Fit, and grab something else from the other side of my closet, which is stocked fairly well with three different sizes of clothes, due to all of the afore-mentioned dieting. I would giggle when my husband played with my "love handles" and tell him there was more of me to love. I would consciously be aware of how most parts of my body felt like they were encased in a thick cake-layer frosting of lard. I laughed and felt loved.

And then I weighed myself. O. M. G. And, OK, this is the truth, I have never weighed this much before in my LIFE. Well, unless you count the time I had my third child. I did weigh this much after I had her. But I think pregnancy is a much better excuse than being in love. Although, I have to say that the being in love part prevents me from wanting to practically kill myself like I did back when I weighed this much about 19 years ago.

I did tell hubby that I'm going on a diet. He chuckled, amused at me. "That's OK," he said. "Go ahead and lose some weight. I can put it right back on you."

Ha! Let the dieting begin. Man, I feel stressed already.

Hawaiian Honeymoon

After three days at the swanky Stoneleigh Hotel in uptown Dallas (or is it Dallas Uptown?), I had to leave for a five-day business trip on the big island of Hawaii.

"Come with me," I cajoled, winningly.

"You'll be working. I have to work, too," he replied, matter-of-factly.

"All we have to pay for is your air fare. The hotel's paid for, the rent car is paid for, my air fare is paid for, my food is paid for. Come on." So much for my winning ways, now I was whining.

"I can't take another five days off work." He was firm.

(POUT) (That was me.)

"I can't go. You love Hawaii--you'll have a blast. And besides, you went to Hawaii for your FIRST TWO HONEYMOONS. Let's not tempt fate."

"Hey, I wore a round ring on the fourth finger of my left hand on my first two honeymoons, too, but you don't seem worried about that karma."

"Well, you could stay home and cancel the trip."

"ALOHA!" Aloha means hello and love--but it also means good-bye!

So I went to Hawaii on my honeymoon. Again. But this time by myself. And I DID have a blast! I snorkeled at night with manta rays and spent a day taking a circle island tour with 52 new best friends on a rainbow-painted bus. I posed for one-armed photos of myself in front of waterfalls, palm trees, sea turtles, volcanoes, and black sand beaches which I emailed instantly home to my absent husband.

The picture I sent before I swam with manta rays

The "after" picture. I DID IT!

I ate my way around the island, reliving my past through shave ice, arare, li hing mui, and plate lunches of shoyu chicken and teriyaki beef with rice and macaroni salad, pictures of which I also sent homeward, mostly to my brother who was texting me regularly about da kine.

But the best part about the trip was having someone to come home to!

We Eloped!

July 23, 2009

6:00 PM

Dallas LDS Temple

The ceremony was blissfully simple and short and got delayed a few hours so that our surprise witness, my son Dane, could make it. I was grateful that he was there and that it was over so quickly; my new husband was grateful that we were not asked to perform the "look into the mirrors and see yourselves going on into eternity" trick, which he labeled maudlin and unoriginal. I wouldn't have minded the mirror trick--probably wouldn't have even remembered it, since I remember little else. I can't believe how nervous I was! All I remember for sure is that it felt right. And how we both suppressed giggles when we were admonished, at ages 55 and 53, to go forth, multiply, and replenish the earth!

The Checklist

Letter from SLC - check

Temple recommends signed by stake prez - check

Dress hemmed - check

Cowboy boots buffed- check

Suit picked up from cleaners - check

Ring - check

Solar nails to go with ring + 2 big toe acrylic nails (who knew) - check

Suitcases packed - check
Hilari's present packed - check

Selena's present packed - check

Hotel reservation made - check

Dallas Temple reserved - check

Witness (Dane) contacted - check

Last day checked off the calendar - CHECK!!!

Choosing a Date

OK, now we have the letter, how about getting married this weekend?

Wait-what?! I'm still unpacking! I can't even find my Q-tips yet!

Well, I can't get married next weekend because of work--I'm booked up. What about the weekend after that?

I don't know--I have a three-day contract in Houston, get back for a few days and then leave for Hawaii that Sunday for a five-day contract over there. And then I work in Houston almost every weekday in August.

So...do we have to wait until September? By then, our marriage license will have expired.

Hmmm...I don't really care about the license--we can just get a new one--but I don't want to wait until September. OK, let's get out our calendars...

The Letter

The Letter from SLC finally came in the mail! It said, basically "You have permission to marry her in the temple." And I would put a copy of the three signatures at the bottom of the letter right here except that just about the only other sentence in the whole letter was "You do not have permission to copy this letter." But these are the three guys whose autographs we have in our possession until we surrender the letter at the temple of our choice:

Pack. Rat.

I have a confession to make. I am a pack rat. I know this because I have been packing for the last four days and there is still so much stuff that it doesn't even look like I've started packing. It's so bad that I asked my friends if we could turn my Night On The Town party into a Packing Party. And now I'm off to the Box Store again for more packing supplies.

Note to self: Next time you move, even if you have a small three-bedroom house, do not think that you can just buy the "Small Three-Bedroom House" box kit. HA HA HA.

This Girl Deserves a Party

"We want to throw you a party," my visiting teachers said one day, "Do you want to get a limo and see a Broadway show, have a night on the town? Where would you like to go? Who would you like to invite?"

Oh, boy. A party! Should we go to the exclusivo Vargo's with the famous gardens that I've always wanted to see?

Or how about Rainbow Lodge, the quaint hunting cabin set on an acre of flowers in the middle of the city, famous for its wild game? (I once ate emu and buffalo there--on the same plate!)
Then there was the new Grove restaurant right in the heart of downtown Houston, among the skyscrapers, but surrounded by a city park. Their rooftop dining area is called the Treehouse.In the end, we ditched the limo idea and decided we'd rather just hang out yacking together at a local joint rather than spend the evening sitting in expensive velvet seats facing forward and listening to highly-paid professionals sing to us.

Now my friends are beginning to RSVP for the event and asking if I'm registered anywhere. Not yet. Can you register at Cindie's? I don't cook!

Hot Springs is Hot

We decided to take a little jaunt over to Hot Springs to check it out before the honeymoon. We wanted to choose one of the charming little bed and breakfasts that we had seen online, and couldn't make a decision looking at the photos on the websites. We loved the town--it was as quaint and enchanting as advertised and almost reminded us of a little European village, except that all of the fountains in town were steaming!

We checked out one bed and breakfast after another. First this one:

Then this one:

And even this one:

Something just wasn't working for us. I finally said, "You know, I'm just not feelin' it, are you?" and my fiance sighed in relief and admitted, "I feel like I'm visiting my grandmother's house!"

So we headed to the historic Arlington Hotel to see if it was as "tired" and "tawdry" as the reviewers on Trip Advisor had said it was, and we were pleasantly surprised. We felt like we had been transported back in time to the roaring 20's! The joint was hopping!

There was a live band in the lobby with tuxedoed waiters serving cold drinks and patrons lounging around at tables and chairs on the huge veranda overlooking the main street.

People were pouring in and out of the revolving door--laughing, talking, and loving life in beautiful Hot Springs. We had found our place! But, after enjoying dinner and a walk around the town, we sat out on the veranda and watched the steam rise from the hot spring fountains around us and admitted, "We LOVE Hot Springs. But now we've DONE it! We have to find some place new for the honeymoon!"

Back to the drawing board!

Our Story

A friend asked me how we met. "What's your story?" she wondered. Here it is.

We met on an LDS singles' website two and a half years ago when he sent me an email telling me he was a mess and why. I responded that he did indeed sound like a mess, but promised that things could only get better. He lived in Texas, but was five hours north of me, and over the next two years we were pretty good penpals, but never met. I think we tried to meet in Dallas a couple of times and one or the other of us would have work conflicts and it never worked out. I just figured he wasn't very interested in me.

Finally, in January, we figured out that we would both be in the SLC airport at the same time while I was bringing my son to a film festival there and he was leaving after dropping his off at the MTC. We arranged to meet at the top of the escalator, a location that he now has a picture of on his cell phone. We talked for thirty minutes, went our separate ways, and that was that. I didn't hear much from him for a while, and once again figured that, well, he wasn't very interested in me.

Little did I know that he went home and made plans to marry me. We finally had another date at the beginning of April, after which he asked if it was too soon to propose. I told him it was not only too soon but to please quit being so nice to me because I wasn't used to that kind of treatment and it was turning me off. But by the end of the month, after keeping a list of everything we had in common that had reached #103, I was completely accustomed to being treated well and we were engaged. We realized that we loved Star Trek, dragon rolls, book clubs, museums, astronomy, blue cheese, our families, cool new stuff, and each other. So much so that we don't want to live without each other very much longer!

Flowers, Gurl

You know, even if you elope, you should have some flowers. For the photo. Maybe something casual and informal and wild-looking, a bouquet that looks like you just gathered it yourself in the field behind the temple.

Or maybe you should just have a simple cluster of pink roses, your favorite. But, then again, maybe that looks too young and prom-like.

How about a simple, straw-tied bunch of wildflowers and greenery with one beautiful pink bloom right up front? Yes.

Picture This

Hey, even if you elope you need a good photo of the two of you, right? So we still need a photographer. That is, if we elope, which I'm not saying we're going to, but just if we did.

I fell in love with this photographer when I saw this photo:

Priorities

I don't even want to go into the details, but between over ten thousand dollars' worth of expenses, and another ten thousand dollars' worth of lost revenue due to contracts canceling, the piggy bank is now empty. No money for a honeymoon, no money to buy tickets to fly everybody in for a Texas wedding, no money for hotels and dinners and flowers and a photographer and a cupcake wedding cake. The question is, do we postpone the wedding until the coffers are full again, or do we take my little mother's advice and just elope?

A Dress with Sleeves

Now it was official, and even though I had already picked out a ring and a honeymoon destination and bridesmaids' dresses, I didn't have a thing to wear. I just wanted something casual and informal, but long and white and WITH SLEEVES, so I searched the Internet for a "wedding dress with sleeves." NONE. They were all strapless.

I finally found one I really liked with spaghetti straps, that had 73 "reviews" by women who all claimed it was a miracle-working slenderizer of a dress. That sold me, since the only criteria I had other than white, long, and with sleeves, was "slenderizing." So I ordered it. And when it came, I tried it on and I loved it. I figured I could find a little bolero or jacket to go over it when the time came. But I'm still looking for said little bolero or jacket...

The Proposal

We were in Dallas on a date at the swanky French Room and my boyfriend wanted to show me something at a high-rise downtown a few blocks away. But it was raining. And I had on uncomfortable high heels. And I was tired. But I was a good sport and I went.What he showed me was Fountain Place, a tree-lined water garden surrounding a shiny blue-glass skyscraper in the middle of the city. I thought, OK, that was pretty much worth the walk in uncomfortable high heels. And then he asked me to marry him! Totally worth the walk!

The Dream Ring

All of these wedding plans and conversations took place before any question was ever asked or any answer given. In fact, The Ring was chosen before The Proposal.

My boyfriend, who was not my fiance yet, said, "If I were engaged to you, I would want you to wear a ring so people would know you are taken. Do you want to look at rings?"

Come on. Did he really not know that women are always looking at engagement rings? I have been looking at rings for DECADES! In fact, I already had my dream ring picked out, a bezel-set ring that was not one of your average run-of-the-mill-sticky-uppy prong numbers, so I emailed the link to him. He loved it, too. He said it looked high-tech, like something from Star Trek, tee hee. We love Star Trek. So we ordered the ring. In platinum--because that felt more solid, more permanent, more TAKEN.

And when the ring came, there was an inscription engraved inside it, a quote that was very special to us both. It said:

"Live long and prosper."

Choosing a Temple

Trying to choose the temple to get married in went kind of like this:

Which temple do you want to go to?

The Houston temple, it's my temple (this is EASY, I'm thinking).

But you won't be living in Houston when we get married.

Oh, yeah.

Nobody in your family will be living in Houston. You will be living closer to Dallas at that time.

But Dallas is the ugliest LDS temple in Christendom! And nobody in YOUR family lives there.

But you and I will live near it.

Well, what if we had a destination wedding and flew to the temple nearest the most members of the family?

OK, how about Orlando? You have a sister and a daughter there.

But then we'd have to fly everybody else in, including ourselves, and we would HAVE to take everybody to Disneyworld, which we can't swing right now. What about Salt Lake, you'll have two kids there and I have one there.

But we'd still have to fly all the other kids there and YOU AND I would have to fly up.

What's close to Iowa, there's one daughter and her whole family there. Nauvoo? But then again we fly everybody else including US up there?

Dang (this is NOT as easy as I thought). So we just stick with the Dallas temple and fly everybody here?

Dallas it is.

Wait a minute. What about the Anchorage temple???

Honeymoon Possibilities

After getting the important bridesmaids' dresses and boots all figured out, the natural next step--of course--was deciding on a honeymoon destination. I wanted to show my fiance beautiful Sanibel Island, which I had discovered off the coast of Naples, Florida last year when I was there on business. I could imagine us walking barefoot in the white sand, hand-in-hand, under the moonlight.

He wanted to take me to ALASKA! His idea of romance was white-water rafting and glaciers! I was game!

But we both wanted to save money, so we decided on Hot Springs, Arkansas, a charming artists' community surrounded by a national park full of natural, you guessed it, HOT SPRINGS! Ahhh, relaxing. And just a little way up the road.

Our Iowa Boots

So almost as soon as I met my fiance's two beautiful girls (beautiful 30- and 32-year-old women they are) we were off to the RCC Western Store in the nearby mall to try on cowboy boots. And we found some! We all laughed at the fact that the bride's cowboy boots for her Texas wedding were purchased in Des Moines, Iowa.

And here they are: Sara's boots, my boots, and Lizzie's boots.
We love them!

Bridesmaids 'n Boots

The minute I got engaged, my daughters wanted to know what their bridesmaids' dresses would look like.

"Well, I'll be in white, since I'm getting married in the temple. Let's all wear white, and take pictures outside on the green grass," I said, "like the British do."

"OK," they giggled, as they googled "white dresses." They hit upon a cute, ruffly dotted-Swiss number from J. Crew. It came in shell pink, too, which was tempting, but we agreed on white.

"And let's wear cowboy boots--it's so Texas!" said my 21-year-old. She showed me a pic to back up her idea. Why not? It was a Texas wedding. So I ordered the dresses (four total, for my two girls and his two girls) (OK, I'll admit, I got one for myself, too, they were too cute) and ran the cowboy boot idea past my fiance's daughters. They were in!

The Un-wedding

My little mother said to me the other day, "Suzy, you've had too many weddings. You don't need another one. Just elope with him and be happy." I am considering her advice.