Donny???

I am a reality T.V. failure.

Big time.

I just don't get it. I like to watch shows that include actors and plot, stories that make me think or touch my soul or simply entertain me, but stories, nonetheless! Reality T.V. is so boring. The format never changes. They find a bunch of people to compete against each other for a prize. One by one, they are eliminated, either by a panel of judges or by the studio audience or by the contestants themselves or by fans who vote using their phones. It's always the same.

People compete based on all sorts of things: their intelligence, singing skills, dancing ability, cooking expertise. (I especially hate those cooking ones because very rude, mean chefs yell at people and tell them how bad their food tastes.) On one show, contestants race all over the world, trying to reach the finish line while encountering all sorts of trouble along the way. On another, "guests" are trapped inside a house and forced to eat gross food and compete in really dumb contests of strength or endurance. Ridiculous! Then there are the talent and singing shows, where supposedly famous people and good singers (though I've never once seen Neil or Celine on one of these) critique contestants' performances.

Then, some get to move forward (go through), and others are sent home. It's sad.

Perhaps the most popular are the shows associated with what's called "Bachelor Nation." It's like a cult following! One guy dates 30 girls on exotic islands. They drink lots of alcohol and spend lots of time kissing and having awkward conversations, all with the goal that the one guy will find his soul mate. (Well, except those who are there "for the wrong reasons.") And just like the other shows, one by one, the girls are eliminated. They go home crying in a limo. Then, the next time around, it's one girl dating 30 guys. Same format: Cocktail parties and rose ceremonies. Rinse and repeat. This is actually the only reality show I've ever watched start to finish because Shulamith and several of my friends like it, but try as I might, I'm just not feelin' it. My least favorite part is near the end, when it's down to three girls, and the guy is encouraged to sleep with each of them, one after the other, and they call it a "fantasy." Blah.

Possibly the worst reality T.V. show is one of the oldest. They put a bunch of people on a primitive island (nothing like the beautiful islands on The Bachelor) with no food and barely any clothes, and leave them there to survive. That's it. And it's been on since Y2K. The very worst part is that it's definitely rated "S." Practically every episode features at least one of those nasty "S" creatures.

But just when I thought reality T.V. couldn't get any dumber, it did. My guess is producers couldn't think of a new idea, so they asked a bunch of kindergartners:

Producers: We need a new show? Do you have any ideas?

Kindergartners: Why don't you find famous people and dress them up in giant animal costumes with masks. They can sing songs. Other famous people can try to guess who they are.

Producers: Done and done!

The Masked Singer was born. Call me naive, but when Shulamith and Eli first told me about it, I thought they HAD to be kidding. This could not be real. I was wrong. Shulamith and Eli love reality T.V. as do Seth and my mom and several others in my Portland family. That's why I feel like I should like it too. I don't want to be left out. They have challenges among themselves, guessing who will win these shows, and I can't participate because I know I won't watch.

So why on earth would I ever consider watching this new one with the giant animal costumes? Well, because apparently, people are speculating that Donny Osmond is the Peacock (see picture above). Yep, Donny! Other guesses for the Peacock are Neil Patrick Harris, David Copperfield, and Wayne Brady, but as time goes on, all the clues seem to be pointing in Donny's direction: child star, Vegas performances, friendship with Michael Jackson, wig that got him put in jail. Yeah, I think it's Donny.

...which means I'm stuck watching the semi-finals and finals in order to find out. Ugh!

I am a reality T.V. failure who is now forced to watch reality T.V.

The struggle is real.

Changes in the Missionary World: Big, Small, and Smaller

BIG

When I awoke today and logged on to social media, the "Missionary Mammas" Facebook page was flooded with rumors and speculation. The words from Reo Speedwagon came to mind: "Heard it from a friend who, heard it from a friend who..." That said, the many recent changes in church policy prevented me from just blowing this off. Rumor had it a change would be announced today that would make missionary moms' hearts happy. I kept following.

By far the most common guess on the Missionary Mommas page was that the period of missionary service for elders would be decreased to 18 months (from 24 months) to match the sister missionaries. This actually happened once in 1982, but ended in 1985. 

Anyway, good guess, but wrong.

Instead, the change involves communication between missionaries and their families. Prior to the change, missionaries were allowed to email their families once a week on P-day (preparation day). The only other communication was twice yearly on Christmas and Mother's Day, when missionaries could call their parents or video chat. 

Effective immediately, missionaries are now permitted to communicate with their families on P-day by any means they choose. They can call, text message, video chat, or (of course) email. Missionaries are also encouraged to communicate with their families on holidays other than just Christmas and Mother's Day and on their parents' birthdays.

Yeah, big change! I think it will be most noticeable here in the U.S. I'm cautiously excited, but I'm not exactly sure this will change much for Seth. He doesn't have a smart phone, a tablet, a computer, or any modern technology in Paraguay. On P-day, he and his companion go to a cyber cafe to send email. Maybe we'll be able to chat live while he's there, like back and forth? That would be awesome! The decision of how to implement these changes (or not) is left entirely to the missionary, NOT the parents. I look forward to hearing from Seth on Monday to see what he thinks.

Immediately after the announcement became public, my phone began to ping, over and over, as text and FB messages came in from friends, who heard the news and immediately thought of Seth and me. I'm not sure I've ever navigated so many text conversations at once! This was really so heart warming, so thank you Kayla, Emily L., Emily B., Kara, Diana, Lindsey, Amy, and (once he woke up after a loooong Valentine's Day at Macaroni Grill) Eli! Everyone who knows me, knows Seth's mission hasn't been easy for me; I'm so proud of him, and I wouldn't have him anywhere else, but this is gonna be a long two years. Wait....no! Just 18 months to go now. As Seth's CCM companion's mom (Hi Jen!) and I tell each other repeatedly: We've totally got this.

SMALL

Missionary attire has evolved over time, but never so extensively as in recent months. The sisters can now wear pants! Woo. Now this isn't new for Seth's mission. The sisters in Paraguay are required to wear pants, just as the elders must wear long-sleeved shirts, to lower the risk of mosquito bites and a bad disease mosquitoes carry called Dengue Fever. But recently that policy has extended to all missions, not just the ones with the mosquito risk. It makes so much sense! Riding bikes in long skirts and dresses must be so challenging. If I ever serve a mission, I will find some cute pants to add to my fun missionary wardrobe.

SMALLER

Okay, this one is just funny to me and will probably mean nothing whatsoever to you. It's an understatement to say that most people aren't as interested (obsessed?) with language and rhetoric as I am. But I'm gonna blog about this anyway because, you know, "It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to." 

For those unfamiliar with LDS missions, missionaries are paired up in companionships. The two missionaries in each companionship stay together practically all the time, but occasionally, they get together with another companionship and trade companions for a day. This used to be called "splits," because the two missionaries in the companionship split up and each worked with someone else for the day. I think it was still called "splits" when Luke served (2006-2008), but I'm not certain. By the time Eli was out on his mission (2012-2014), it was called "exchanges." Missionaries exchanged companions for a day.

And now! Now! Now that Seth is out on his mission, there is yet another name to describe this same, exact thing: Divisions! Now missionaries companionships divide, and each missionary works with a different companion for the day.

Splits. Exchanges. Divisions. All to describe the same thing. Haha, so my question for you is this? What's next? What do you think they will call this next? Can you think of another synonym? I'm so excited to hear your ideas.

Meanwhile, changes are in the wind: big, small, and smaller!

Love, Lessons, and Donny & Marie

"Why would you go to Las Vegas?" I've been asked on occasion. "You don't drink, and you don't gamble."

But that's not entirely true. I most definitely drink. Diet Coke! Lots of it. This can be a challenge in Vegas because so many establishments there are Pepsi only. Gross. What are they thinking? Last time I was there, Gerald and I stayed at New York - New York, directly across the street from the Coke Store. How beautifully convenient! He made multiple trips across the street to get me Diet Coke whenever I wanted it.

A week ago, Shulamith and I escaped to Vegas for a 3-day girls' party. This time we stayed at the opposite end of the Strip, so the Coke Store was far away, but never fear! Resourceful women that we are, we sought out restaurants that had self-serve Diet Coke, so we could get refills. No problem.

As for gambling, true, that's not really my deal; however, did you know the casinos offer free lessons on how to play the games? Well they do! So Shulamith and I took an hour-long lesson on how to play dice (craps), the game where people stand around this big table, and someone rolls the dice to see who wins based on the bets they place on certain numbers. I learned so much! I was the "high roller" and won $500 in about 10 minutes. Of course it was all fake, but that's why it was so great. I got to play this game with zero risk. Perfect. We didn't have time to take a Black Jack lesson, but next time we're there, I'm definitely doing that. Meanwhile, we did play the $.01 slots for a few minutes, and Shulamith managed to turn her $5.00 into $10.79. I was not so lucky.

So maybe we don't go to Vegas for the gambling, but there is really so much more. We love live shows. Seriously, the two of us are entertainment junkies, so a lot of our preparation involves deciding what to see. Our favorite, Celene Dion, wasn't performing last week (insert very sad face). Fortunately, we saw her when we were there seven years ago, and it was life altering. This time we opted for the Cirque Du Soleil show "Beatles Love." It combined classic Beatles music and video with circus-based artistic stage performance. "Love" was lovely. We enjoyed every second. The Diet Coke there? Uh, well, let's just say it cost literally eight times what it does at Chevron. Worth every penny.

Even better, though, was the following night when we saw Donny & Marie's award-winning Vegas show. It was awesome! They are such incredible performers with so much talent both independently and together. Can't wait to see them again sometime.

Now if you know Shulamith and me, you are probably thinking something like, "Really? She's talking about shows and gambling lessons, when in fact, all they ever do on vacation is eat?" Truth. And this time was top of the world superior to any other time. Why? Because we asked our world traveler, who has spent probably six full months of the past four years in a Vegas hotel. Isaiah made us a detailed list of his favorite restaurants, noting locations, prices, specialties, etc. We managed to hit three of his top places. All were outstanding. We dined on crazy yummy street tacos, mouth-watering chicken parmesan with veal meatballs, and Gordon Ramsay's famous fish and chips (well, chicken strips for Shulamith cuz she's dumb). We missed breakfast at Hash House a Go Go because the line was all the way out the door. Next time! We also ate nachos at the Rainforest Cafe and crepes at New York - New York. Mmmmmmmmm!

Oh I nearly forgot to mention the Krispy Kreme store right in the lobby of our hotel. We literally walked past it every time we went from the elevator to the outside doors and back. How many times did we stop for a Krispy Kreme, you wonder? Our secret.

And, believe it or not, we didn't even gain any weight. How could this be? The answer is right here:

Yep, the first day we walked nearly 24,000 steps; day two, nearly 18,000; and day three, 16,500. This was evidently enough to offset all those calories, thank goodness!

Now we are back to reality. But the love, lessons, and Donny & Marie are in our memories and in our hearts forever. How's that for some rhetorical pathos to add to your day?  :-)

What can't you throw away?

Let's be clear. I am the furthest thing from a hoarder. I throw away everything. I throw away stuff I will need two days later. I throw away other people's stuff if it's cluttering my space. I have zero sentimentality. I keep a simple file folder for each of my five kids, containing those few things that you can't discard and still be a self-respecting mom. You know, those dang hand prints with the poem about how one day you'll miss finding fingerprints on "furniture and walls" (definitely not true, but whatever). Basically, if it's important enough and if it fits in that file folder, we can keep it. Otherwise, no. Well, you can read here about how non-sentimental I am.

But there are exceptions. Not many. But some. This piece of paper, for example:

Yep, this worn out, stained, tattered piece of paper remains in my kitchen cupboard. I can't bring myself to throw it away. It's a simple recipe for hamburger soup, which I could type up in about three minutes and save in my "recipes" folder. Yep, sure could. But I don't.

Once upon a time, maybe 20 years ago (?), when we lived in a small town 60 miles north of Seattle called Mt. Vernon, I had a friend who liked to cook and was very, very good at it. As you know, I can barely cook at all, and for the most part, I really try not to. If I do cook, my limit for a recipe is four ingredients. More than that totally stresses me out. As you can see, this one has way more than four!

But this friend was confident I could make this soup, so much so that she sat down on her couch and wrote out the entire recipe by hand! Say what? I'm not even kidding. She actually wrote it all out on this yellow piece of paper with only a pencil. Then she told me how "easy" it is to make (people always say that; it's never true) and most importantly, how cheap! I was an at-home mom with five kids to feed, so yeah, I liked "cheap."

It's odd the things we remember. As though it were yesterday, I remember this day. As my friend finished writing out this recipe, Isaiah came back from delivering papers on a route he shared with my friend's daughter. Well, "shared" is too nice a word for what the two of them did. More accurately, they fought over this paper route. The two of them were mortal enemies. How did we ever think they could effectively share a paper route when they adamantly refused to so much as speak to one another? But that's another story.

Once Isaiah was back, we were off to the store to buy the ingredients for this "easy, cheap" soup. It's hard to read in this picture, but the soup contains hamburger, plus a plethora of healthy veggies. Yes, cheap! But look further down toward the end of the list. It also includes oregano, thyme, parsley, basil, and bay leaves. Seriously? I had no idea what any of that stuff was. My spice collection consisted of salt, pepper, and cinnamon.

By the time I bought all this stuff, my "cheap" soup was over $30! I called my friend. (I know, right? Weird, how life was before text messaging.)

Me: You said this recipe was cheap? I just spent over $30!
Friend: How's that possible?
Me: It's all these crazy spices. They were like $4 each.
Friend: Don't you already have most of those?
Me: Nope, not one.
Friend: Really? Why not?
Me: BECAUSE I DON'T COOK STUFF.

The good news is I went home and successfully made this delicious soup, as I've done dozens of times since, in the last 20 years. And each time, I take out this yellow piece of paper, and think of my friend.

What can't you throw away?

Sump pump woes, and is it finally February?

Goodness, January is a long month. I know I've written about it before, like pretty much every January, but I swear this month never ends.

It's cold.

It's really cold.

Christmas is over.

We're back at school.

There's nothing to look forward to.

Ugh.

This time around, it's felt especially dismal. In Paraguay, Seth's branch members know he gets to email his family on Monday, so on Tuesday, they always ask him about us. "How's your family, Elder Erichsen?" Every week he tells them the same thing: "My family is fine, and nothing has happened." They must think we're the most boring family ever.

So I'm trying to think of what to tell you as we finally put January 2019 to bed forever.

Let's see, there's the sump pump event. Nope, a sump pump event can never be good news. In case you are unfamiliar with such things, we have this thing called a sump pump in our backyard. Because our house is on an incline, if the water level gets too high, this thing pumps water up and out onto the lawn, keeping our lovely basement apartment from flooding. It works fine, but periodically, I worry about it. No, that's a lie. Regularly, I worry about it, at least in the winter months when it rains or when snow melts. The sad part is I can't even enjoy my absolute favorite weather because I'm too worried about this stupid sump pump malfunctioning.

So one night a couple weeks ago, rain was forecast all night long. Before going to sleep, I texted two people: Eli, to tell him not to worry if he hears noise outside his bedroom window, because I'm going to have Dad check the sump pump; and Gerald, asking him to check the sump pump when he gets home. Covering all my bases, I fell asleep.

Right in the dead of the most perfect sleep, I was awakened at midnight by Gerald. "The pipes in the sump pump are completely broken. It looks like someone has attacked them with a baseball bat." Well, no, that couldn't have happened, but broken they were, nonetheless. Panic time. I do a pretty good job panicking over things that aren't even real; just imagine what I can accomplish with the threat of a real emergency. It's impressive.

Gerald called multiple "24-hour plumbers," but be aware; there is no such thing as a 24-hour plumber. It's all a big lie. Yes, someone answers the phone. No, they can't come help you. They "don't have a technician in the area," or they "can come look at it for $155 but can't get the equipment to fix it until 8:00 a.m." Blah, blah, blah. After stressing until 3:00 a.m., envisioning my basement flooded and all Eli and Amanda's things ruined, I decided to just go to bed. My sweet anxiety fought sleep for nearly two hours, and my final glance at the clock said 4:45. Woke up two hours later terrified that the apartment had flooded, but all was well, and a fake 24-hour plumber was here fixing the pump.

So yeah, that's the most excitement we had all month. And finally, January is behind us. Welcome, fabulous February! I think I need a girls' trip to Las Vegas next weekend. You down, Shulamith?