Park City 5

Today I ran my first 5K! I am powerful! I am woman! Sam and I didn't stop once. Can't say we were super fast, but it felt so good to come in first--at least out of the Lambson clan. Yes, I beat Sam. Mwa ha ha. . . but I'm not rubbing that in. The Park City 5K for 5 Kids was in memory of five students from Park City High who passed away in 2008, including Erica Knell, a close family friend to the Lambsons. I met her at Lake Powell last summer and was honored to play a song at her funeral last fall. The PC5 organization is sponsoring the building of a sister school in Ecuador. You can learn more about it or donate to the cause at parkcity5.blogspot.com. It's a wonderful cause.

Pictures from Portland and Beyond

Hey, so we're back from Portland! Here's a brief photo journey of the experience:

On Friday, Sam and I caught an early flight for a long layover in Denver so we could meet up with my Dad for an early lunch in Colorado Springs. Here's me and my Dad at Mimi's Cafe, and me and Sam with our presents from Dad--the Marc Jacobs bag, and Sam's Kindle 2. Bling!

On Friday night we arrived in Portland and were picked up by Sam's mission president, President Jensen, and his lovely wife. We stayed at their place in Vancouver for the weekend and were pampered silly with chocolates on our pillows to greet us, Italian food, free reign with their car, BBQ, conversation, local tours, and an extremely efficient GPS guide without which we would have been horribly lost and gone forever.

On Saturday, we went around Portland and the surrounding neighborhoods after a stop at the Saturday's Market. We stopped by Sam's office location in Lake Oswego across the street from the Portland LDS temple, which is so beautiful. Then we checked out Lake Oswego, Wilsonville, West Linn, Tigard, Tualatin, and Beaverton, all surround Portland. Our pick? West Linn! Woodsy, no sidewalks, cozy, not so cookie-cutter suburban, close enough to the city, and close enough to the country. Here here. So we're hoping to find a place there. Let the search begin . . .

On Sunday we visited the Lakeview and West Linn wards to check them out, and then we took a long, long Sunday drive to the Oregon Coast. We started at Cannon beach with a nice walk and naps on the sand, and then continued down the coast, through Salem, and back up to Vancouver for dinner at the Jensens.

Here's Sam at Cannon Beach . . .
And me at Cannon Beach . . . And Sam at Cannon Beach . . . And us at Cannon Beach . . .
On Monday we spend the day with the Jensens, which included a trip to Multnomah Falls:Here we are with President and Sister Jensen (see Sister Jensen's blog for a great read), their dog Zoe, and me and Sam.
On Tuesday, Sam and I went to the rododehndron garden in Portland and fed the ducks (see below for us and ducks). Lovely, lovely . . . and then we went to the airport to head home. Only, flying standby, we didn't make the flight we'd hoped. So, alas, poor us, we took the train into the city, I bought new jeans at Nordstrom Rack, which was a really depressing visit based on the expansion of my body (although I refused to buy bigger jeans and told myself I would starve myself and exercise before buying the bigger pants, as comfy as they were). Anyway. We walked around downtown Portland and had dinner at Jake's, an old and well-known seafood restaurant. Delish. Then we caught the train back to the airport. Catching a later flight, we stayed overnight, a very brief night, at Sam's brother Paul's place in Denver. Also lovely, lovely, and Paul took us to the airport in the morning for a very early flight back to Utah. And so we arrived back home and were very sleepy.

We loved the trip and it'll be kickin' to go back soon. We're planning to make another trip out in late July/early August to find a place to live, hopefully in West Linn, and then we'll split Utah for good in mid August. It is all that much more real.

'Sup from the O-town

Yo yo wassup my homies get the diggity in the hoooowse, this is radio dj lizzy--holla! git up in here in the oregon cit-ay, where it all happens ya'll no doubt! So what is happenin' with the homies? Up in the green town we be lookin fo some real estate man! Get wit it! Rollin' past them trees with the sweet ride, yo, we got the hoopup in he-ah! Don't you be jammin' jealous sugar daddy cause we be ridin' back atcha in yo town on the dues-day Tuesday . . . so no frettin yo we hanging out in the Land of Port! What? Hipsta!

Make My Face the Ace of Bass

I've started practicing again. The bass, I mean. I'm working on Franchi's Introduction and Tarantelle, and I filled my orange folder with old pieces to relearn. It's been almost three years since I practiced on a daily basis and took lessons. I used to practice 3 hours a day, 15 hours a week, sometimes playing the bass for 8 hours a day between personal practice, orchestra rehearsals, folk ensemble, and jazz. Why does that seem so impossible to me now?

I've decided to give a recital before we move to Portland. July 29th is the goal, before the Lambson's yearly excursion to Lake Powell. I'm so tempted to just bail and be a vegetable all day, occasionally changing Owen's diapers and taking him on lazy walks around the neighborhood. But now I have two obligations: copy for that South Carolina mortgage website, and James Robin, my bass.

I would like to train the laziness out of myself, but so far, I can't seem to practice for more than an hour before I get distracted by . . . everything. And anything. And now I worry I'm not passionate enough about music. I can sit in front of my bass for eight hours and look beyond it to watch Arrested Development. I practice for ten minutes and think about reading another chapter of The End of Overeating with my hand dipping into the almond jar.

Last week I had a new first lesson with my former bass professor, and it went pretty well, only I made a terrible comment (referring to the analogy no less that freakin' TWICE) and it was SO terrible that I've been SO embarrassed about it--so much that I'm not sure I can even face my teacher again. Alas, we have a standing appointment on Friday mornings, so I will go back and apologize and try not to play like dirt.

[What was once here is no longer here. I rescind. I repent. But I will leave the orange juice image.]

Hardee har har.

The Kitchen Aid

This is what it looks like. The ice blue, like the same shade as the Tiffany's box. I'm such a sucker for bling.

Liz's Chicken & Spinach Pasties

I experimented with a new recipe this weekend, and it's evolved from an Anglicized calzone into what's more like a cheesy pastie. Mmm. Try it out! This is for people who are too lazy or afraid of their bacterial countertops and don't make their own crust, like me.

Ingredients (for 6 pasties):

12 thawed and risen Rhodes Rolls (the frozen kind)
egg whites (if you're ambitious)

Filling:
1/2 block cream/Neufchatel cheese
1 cup grated cheese(s) (Cheddar, Swiss, Parmesan, whatev)
8 oz chicken breast
1 purple onion
1 cup chopped spinach
1 tsp minced garlic
3-4 chopped artichoke hearts
spices (salt, pepper, creole seasoning, paprika, chili powder, etc.)

Sautee cubed chicken with garlic, chopped onion, and spices. Mix with cheeses, spinach, artichoke, and more salt to taste. Salt = mmm.On a floured surface, roll out the risen Rhodes Rolls into little flat circles (6-7" wide). Scoop a couple spoonfuls of filling onto the dough, cover with another dough circle, and pinch/twist the edges together. Cut decorative (and functional!) slits in the top with a knife.
Place on greased cookie sheet. Brush with egg whites (optional--makes them look nice and toasty crisp). Bake at 350* for approx. 12 minutes or until golden brown. Eat while hot and enjoy with friends or they won't taste as good. Refrain from calorie counting and remain oblivious. Follow up with an evening walk and someone who makes good conversation.

"I'm your cook, not your doctor."

Bon appetit!

The Blog-Blook-Book

Say that ten times fast, wontcha.

This weekend I had more birthday surprises as the Lambson family returned from Cancun, fake "No Swine Flu" tattoos, tans, and all. We had dinner together and I got more presents! This years highlights included the following:

-music (Weepies Hideaway, Lisa Hannigan's Sea Sew (both EXCELLENT), Laura Gibson, and mixes by Sydney)
-birthday clothes from Plato's closet (including a Vera Wang dress I found for $20--woo! But then I realized it wasn't a $1800 dress abandoned at a thrift store, but rather, it's Simply Vera Wang, the cheaper brand you find at, like, Kohls. So. I pretty much saved ten bucks. Okay. Whatev. Love the dress.)
-a bamboo cutting board
-a drain tray for the dish-drying rack
-socks
-a Kitchen Aid! (Pending progress from my bro. . . has not yet arrived. The bananas will continue to rot until it comes).
-and more!

But here's one of the extra cool gifts from Sam's parents--dun da da dun dun dun daaaa!

It's . . . one year of blogging in the form of a book!

So cool. I know. 172 pages of my own yearbook with color photos, comments, and handwritten "Have a good summer" notes in the front. It's from SharedBook, for those bloggers who are interested in publishing. Love it!

P.S. If you were dying of curiousity about what that mistereous gift was, I will end the torturous suspense. It was a music stand. Who would have guessed? I was totally shocked. I was expecting a pug.

Little Shoes and the Arrest of My Development

On Thursday Sam tried to introduce me to Arrested Development through Hulu to no avail. So what do you do when Hulu and your internet connection do not prevail?

Get out the cash.

So we went to Best Buy and bought season one. I mean, if you're going to watch a show you might as well do it right and submit yourself and surrender your life completely to TV on DVD. There's simply no other way.

We were in Best Buy, noticing that a book in the checkout line was called something like "Obama: Child of Hope" or "Obama: Son of Promise," and Sam made some comment like, "Isn't that another name for Christ?" Hmm. Crazy. Crazy American Girl. But then I thought, oh my goodness, let's go to Michael's next door because craft stores are the hot-diggity. Hot-diggity dog!

Michael's didn't have fabric--of course they don't, I knew this, I knew this all along!--and I wanted to make something for Owen, my weekday friend. We zipped across the street to the famous Joann's, where the cashiers sing to you when they give you your change.

"And he-eeere is your change! Thank yooooo for coming in!"

"Did you just sing us our change?"

"Yeah, is that okay? That's why you should come to Joann's. People sing to you at Joann's."

She said something like that. Anyway, I found this great pattern, and four pairs of shoes, a nearly complete cold recovery, and an entire season of Arrested Development later, here is a sweet and savory sample of what I have produced:

Huzzah!

Mistereous Birthday Gifts

Sam is wrapping birthday presents for me. I just can't figure out what this one is. It's driving me crazy.