You roll out of there, but not without grabbing a Tootsie Pop for "later"...

.....except once you get into the car, you don't wait for "later." You unwrap that sucker right then.

Allow me to indulge myself in a bit of nostalgia as I introduce to you Sayler's Old Country Kitchen.

Look at that menu in the shape of the famous 72-oz. steak. It's the exact same menu that I looked at when I was a young child and dined with my mom and dad and grandparents regularly at Sayler's; really all that's changed are the prices. Did you know that if you can eat that entire 72-oz steak, along with a set number of side dishes, you get your meal free and your name up on the wall? No one I know ever attempted it, but Tom and I always tried to get our dad to do it.

This past weekend, I flew to Portland to visit my family. It was a wonderful, but, as always, I'm left with such bittersweet emotions. I love to be with my family, and I never want to leave. The climate in Portland is perfect; I can breathe there, and the rain does wonders for my overall well-being. At the same time, I always miss my own little family here in Utah, so I also want to come home. Mostly, I wish I could have both. I wish we lived closer.

Sayler's Old Country is a must-do on the agenda when I'm there. We love the food, but the memories we love even more. My mom used to order Tommy and me one, 4-oz. tenderloin steak off the children's menu to share, and for awhile, it was plenty. As we grew, she eventually had to order us each one of our own, and then came the time that I'd eat my whole steak, plus part of my dad's. It was then that I learned to truly appreciate steak. He always had a filet, cooked medium rare, way better than my medium-well tenderloin. Mmmmmm. Well, here's a picture of that filet, topped with a signature onion ring and baked potato on the side. I'm pretty sure I've eaten off that exact metal tray at least once before in my many, many times at Sayler's.

But the thing about Country Kitchen is that a bunch of other stuff is also included in the single price of the meal. The first course is this cool relish tray, along with french bread and melted garlic butter. You can see everything in this picture except the olives hidden underneath, so just imagine the olives.

After the relish tray comes either soup or salad. I get a delicious salad with blue cheese dressing. Along with this course, we always order a plate of onion rings. I won't try to describe them to you; just look right here:

Then comes the main dish and potato, followed by your choice of ice cream, the standard vanilla and chocolate, as well as peppermint, orange sherbet, and (my favorite!) spumoni! And no, Amanda, it does not taste like bubble gum.

It was such a fun night; I can't even tell you how much fun. Let me show you what a group we had:

And since this blog is my sole answer to family history, let me name these fine people in case anyone ever wants to know. From right to left around the table: my niece, Leslie, and her husband, Silas; Eli and Amanda (who met me in Portland for the weekend); my brother, Tom; my niece, Katie; my mom, Claudette; me; my sister-in-law, Jacqueline; Leslie's daughter, Sydney; and Jacqueline's husband, Mike. Whew!

The only Portlanders missing were Carley and Julia and their son, Finn, but we got to see them for breakfast Saturday morning and also dinner that night at their new restaurant, Etc. Eatery. It features local, Pacific Northwest cuisine from Oregon, Washington, and Idaho, including giant Idaho spuds with a variety of toppings.

Time with my family is as precious as it is rare. I miss them. I don't realize how much I miss them until I'm there. Shulamith and I plan to visit again in August, six months from now. Between now and then, my brother might road trip out here sometime this spring, and Jacqueline is going to stop here in late July when she travels from Arizona back to Portland. I really hope both these things happen.

My Portland weekend also included a brief but delightful visit with my friend, Lorrie. We sat outside the ice skating rink at Lloyd Center, the smell of Joe Brown's Carmel Corn permeating our olfactory senses. I can't begin to imagine how many hours I spent there as a child and figure skating student. Early mornings in "patch" practice, creating and repeating figure 8's on the ice, followed by freestyle skating, perfecting jumps and spins.... and always the smell of that Joe Brown's Carmel Corn. Much has been updated at Lloyd Center since those days, but not Joe Brown's; it's still in the exact same location with the exact same treats. Lorrie and I ate Cinnabons and talked nonstop for 2.5 hours, solving world problems, not to mention those in our own little lives. We're smart like that.

There were some flurries of snow when I left Portland, and everyone panicked, stocked up on groceries, and planned to hibernate inside their houses for the duration of the "terrible storm." Honestly, when I heard about it on the news, I almost thought it was a parody. I looked out the window to see a light dusting of snow on the grass and nothing more.  Meanwhile, winter decided to descend on Utah while I was gone, and I flew home last night to nearly a foot of fresh snow with more falling. It was really beautiful as I walked home from the Trax station. I don't love the weather in Utah, but I can't deny this is beautiful.

You roll our of there, but not without grabbing a Tootsie Pop for "later," .....except once you get into the car, you don't wait for "later;" you unwrap that sucker right then. Thanks, Leslie, for the perfect click bait for this blog post. See you in August!

Gospel Essentials: Where the "cool kids" hang out

So in our church we have a lay clergy. That means our local leadership is not paid, but rather, we spread around the workload, and everyone has a part. I have had many parts (callings) in the church through the years, from teaching Sunday School, to going to camp with teenage girls, to leading the women's organization, to directing the music for the children.

But my time in Utah has been completely different, as in....weird. When we first arrived in our ward here, Shulamith and I were called to be primary teachers for Seth's class. We did that for just over a year. Then I was briefly (3 months) the secretary in the relief society presidency, until that presidency was released. Then I was called to teach gospel essentials, an adult Sunday School class designed for new members or those learning about our religion.

That was over five years ago. And here I still am, teaching that same class. Which is weird. Even bishops are typically released after five years. The worst part of this is the manual. It never, ever, changes. It is exactly the same, year after year after year. Other church manuals are updated regularly, but not this one. So I have taught the same set of 47 lessons five times, and just last month, I started back at Lesson #1 for the sixth.

If this sounds painstakingly repetitive, rest assured, it is. I've joked that the only way to get released is to move out of the ward or die, and I sure hope it's the former. Except sometimes I fear I'm not joking.

But there is one upside, and that's what I'd like to talk about today. By far the coolest people in the ward attend my class. Not one of them meets the qualifications I noted above: new member or someone investigating our church, because we don't really have any people like that in our ward. So these guys, these faithful few, come week after week, year after year, anyway. One of them has been in the class the entire five years I've taught it. And he keeps coming back! In addition to him, we have four stalwart couples who attend regularly. Occasionally, one or another of them called to a different 2nd-hour responsibility and is gone for awhile, but (since other people actually get released from their callings without moving or dying), he or she always come back. Then there are a few others who randomly drop in here and there, which makes a solid class of between eight and twelve people most weeks.

I can't tell you how thankful I am for these dedicated folks. Their insight never ceases to amaze me. The manual covers only the most basic principles of doctrine, yet these thoughtful, intelligent, spiritually-gifted individuals are somehow able to dig deep and extend these lessons to generate meaningful, interesting discussions.

So last Sunday, we were back to the lesson on "The Creation." As I watched these people sculpt their Play-Doh into beautiful new "creations," I thought how blessed I am to know them. They are my friends. And though I really do need to be released, sooner rather than later, and I pray I won't need to move or die for that to happen, until it does, I will try to be patient. I will also be grateful.

I purposely did not name these class members because some folks don't like to be mentioned, especially in a blog as pubic as this one. But you know who you are. So thank you. So very much. You are truly the coolest kids in the ward. Thanks for hangin' out with me.

I need to step aside

Those who know me well, know of my extreme dislike for a set of slang words people sometimes use to discuss bathroom issues. Many of those words begin with the letter "P," and oooh, how I dislike those, every last one of them. When I was in the hospital after giving birth to our first child, I remember some of the nurses using those words to talk about my brand new, perfect little Luke. I tried my best to be polite, but goodness, it was hard. You can say he has a wet or messy diaper, but please don't use those gross, slang "P" words to talk about him. Please!

As our children grew to toddlers and preschoolers, they learned to use the restroom without the need for any of those words. We taught them to say "I need to go to the bathroom" or "I need some bath tissue." Perfect! Music to my ears.

Now that they're older, they like to tease me about all of this. I'm not sure why, because it's not funny. Not at all. It's a matter of politeness and respectability. If you need to announce your bathroom plans (and I'm not sure why you would), here are some lovely ways to do it:

1. I need to go to the bathroom.
2. I need to use the restroom.
3. I need to use the washroom.

Or even better:

4. I need to excuse myself.

I especially love that one.

But recently I was thinking back to my college days as an undergrad at Willamette University in Salem, Oregon. I was an English major, but Willamette's liberal arts curriculum allowed me to explore a variety of disciplines, including philosophy, psychology, art history, theater, German, and religion. I loved my religion classes; had I not loved British poetry just a little bit more, I might have majored in religion.

My favorite religion professor was an older, southern gentleman (and gentle he was indeed). For the life of me, I can't remember his name, but I can see him so clearly in my mind and even better, hear his soft voice with its distinct southern accent in my head. By now, he almost certainly resides in heaven, but I will always remember the way he taught the New Testament, so carefully, thoughtfully,  and thoroughly. I learned so much. Lorrie, are you reading this? Do you know who I'm talking about?

The other thing I remember about him is the one day our class somehow found itself in a discussion of the proper way to refer to the need to use the bathroom. How did this conversation come about? No idea. But this dear professor, with his refined southern charm, taught us what his grandmother had taught him to say: "I need to step aside."

I think I'm in love.