Perks and Jerks at Work

Okay, I'm sorry I said jerks. It's just that it rhymed with perks, and well, she was being a jerk actually.
Yesterday we had two gifts delivered. The first one was this-

and the second was this!

Each came from an orthodontist's office (different offices). The flowers were just a "hey- how's it going?" drop off, and the sandwich was the second thank-you installment from the office that gave us the NBC cake a couple weeks ago. They brought by the file of the patient I supposedly referred to them, and while she did look familiar, I don't have her name in my computer at all, so I can't take credit for referring her to this doctor. However, if you ever come in our office and you need braces, I'll refer you to him so I can get more free chocolate cake and yummy sandwiches.
Now for the other part of my post- the part of my job that I don't care for much. Frequently, I have to call an insurance company and clarify benefits for patients. When this young woman answered the phone, she gave me her name and asked how she could help me. I then said, "Hi, my name is Patti, I'm calling from Dr. Horace Knowlton's dental office regarding (pt's name)." Then she said (here's where it goes bad and I cop an attitude) "may I have your name please?"
"I told you my name- my name is Patti." (now it's her turn to cop an attitude) "Well, I- I didn't hear you, so I'm asking you again."
"My name is Patti."
"And what office are you calling from?"
"Dr. Knowlton's office."
"And what is the patient's name and date of birth?"
"It's blah blah."
I won't bore you with the rest of the conversation, but it never got better. My question is why aren't they listening when they pick up the call? I certainly spoke loud enough for her to have heard me, so it's not that she didn't hear me, she just wasn't listening yet.
I guess from now on, I need to just sit tight and let them go at their pace, waiting for them to ask for the information before I offer it so I don't have to give it twice.
I'm reading a book that has taught me that if I really love God like I say I do, then I'll love all that he's created as well. That includes this girl who doesn't listen. So, I'll try to be more gentle and patient. And, I'm sorry I called her a jerk.

The Day After

How was your Mother's Day? We had dinner at my sister's house, and my niece was there too.

This picture was taken the day she gave her awesome talk at Women's Conference at BYU. I am excited that she emailed her talk to me last night! Now I can read it again! We stayed at my sister's house until almost 9:00 (yes, that's late for me!).
I made this for dessert. It loooks fancy, but frankly, it was just glorified strawberry shortcake.
Strange lighting on this shot, but Cheryl always makes her table look so fancy/festive! And, she made an awesome dinner to go with the fancy table. Unfortunately, my mom had to leave early as she was not feeling well. Feel better soon, Mom!

A Day Early

Weeks ago, my mom asked if I wanted to read three journals that she wrote from 1980-1982. Yesterday, I finished reading the first one and it brought back so many memories for me. She talked about her kids and grandkids, going to the gym, working, all the projects she was involved in, who was coming for dinner and what she made. In short, everything she talked about is what I talk about here on this blog. Another thing that struck me- I am at the very age she was when she finished the last journal.
What had particular affect on me though was that I was so interested in everything she wrote. When I write (on occasion) in my journal, I usually think "who will ever be interested in this?" and so I use it as an excuse not to do it.
I know that journal writing was always a chore for her. It's always been a chore for me too. I used to say that I didn't want to write in a journal because I dislike my handwriting. That excuse is now blasted because there's online journaling (see bottom of this blog for a link to ldsjournal.com. My sister has volumes of journals and she keeps them faithfully. I've used this blog for my pretend journal, but I think it's not enough. I think my mom wishes she had more journals. I know I wish she had, and I wish I had more than the one I have (yes, I've only ever filled up one book- and that spans years).
Therefore, it is my Mother's Day resolution that I will start keeping a daily record of what happened, even if it's only a couple of sentences.
Tomorrow is Mother's Day. I love you, Mom. You are always ready to give service to others, cheerfully. You are such a hard worker, a great cook, a happy person, a dedicated follower of Christ and a loving mom. When I grow up, I want to be just like you. Happy Mother's Day.

No Pictures For This Story

The other night, Bud mowed the lawn. The next morning, I saw up above the shower, something that from where I was standing (without my glasses on) looked like a leaf. Maybe he tracked it in from the yard. I got a little closer, put my glasses on and saw it wasn't a leaf, it was a weird-looking spider. Yuck! Ew, gross even! We've had very few bugs in our house the whole time we have lived here, for which I am so grateful. When we lived at the cabin, I was on constant vigil for anything creepy-crawly because there was always something to find. Always.
After having decided that this was a spider and therefore needed to die, (stay outside, I'll leave you alone. Come in my house and it's a death sentence, although I prefer Bud to be the executioner) I knew that I didn't want to smash it against the wall and have a black spot to wash up, so I got the whisk broom and brushed "at it." Now, please realize that I had to stand up on the bathtub to reach it, and even then it was quite a stretch. I flicked it with the broom and it completely disappeared! Vanished! I couldn't see it anywhere. The whisk broom went flying out of my hand and into the bathtub and I jumped backwards off the bathtub. Then I really started freaking out. What if it went down my shirt at the collar? Gasp! I ripped my shirt off, the nosepad on my glasses scratching my forehead in the process as my glasses were flung across the room, and I started examining my shirt for the spider. I couldn't find it.
I tried to calm down a bit (it wasn't working as well as I'd have liked and I was just short of hyperventilating), and think logically. If the spider wasn't in my shirt, which was in a heap on the floor, then where was it? I looked in the shower but didn't see it. I looked on the little shelf where the shampoo lives, still nothing. I looked on the ridge above the shower, nada. While I was searching high and low, it finally showed itself. It had been in the shower probably near the drain and was now starting to head toward the shower wall again. I was done with the whimpy whisk broom! I grabbed Bud's shoe (for two reasons- one, his shoe was closer and I didn't want that thing getting away from me again, and two, I didn't want spider guts on my shoe!) and finished him off.
Now, I realize that there are plenty of people out there who have no problems with spiders, but I'm not one of them. While I don't detest them as much as say...Stacey, I still am not on friendly terms with them. The thought that it may have gone down my shirt was more than I could stand, hence, the histrionics.
Just giving you a glimpse into my otherwise dull life.
P.S. Bud says this story isn't nearly as bad as being at Lake Powell and putting your pants on, only to find a scorpion in the leg of the pants and getting stung- whacking it with your hand while trying to get your pants back off, all the while getting stung at least two more times, and in the end having the scorpion run away unharmed, until revenge took over and the scorpion got "the wrath of Bud's shoe." Moral of the story? Don't hurt Bud, he won't hurt you. Oh, and stay away from his shoes. And about not posting any pictures? You're welcome.

Wondering Why

The yellow ones always come up first.

Eventually, the pink ones and the white ones come up too and they grow taller than the yellow ones. Why is that?

This fall, I'm determined to plant more colors. I want a rainbow of tulips in my little patch of dirt.

Coconut Creammmm Pie

I was craving coconut. I was craving pie. Conveniently, I just received a Taste of Home magazine in the mail and voila (I'm having issues with various creative spellings of that word. Lately, on other blogs I've seen wa la, wha la, and walaa. Oh my garden of roses! Okay, thanks for letting me vent). So along came this baby!


I'd never made a cream pie from scratch before, always opting for Jell-O to rescue me with their pudding mix (usually instant).

I did take the easy way out on the crust though. I had 3 pre-made crusts in the pantry, so I picked the shortbread crust (the other 2 were Oreo chocolate) and got started.

Did it satisfy the craving? The pie craving, yes. The coconut craving, almost.

I have adapted the original Coconut Cream Angel Pie by Ginny Werkmeister, Tilden NE, published by Taste of Home recipe to the following:

FILLING:
1/2 cup Domino® or C&H® Granulated Pure Cane Sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 cups milk
3 egg yolks, lightly beaten
3/4 cup flaked coconut
1 tablespoon butter
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tsp coconut extract
1 pastry shell (9 inches), baked (or a graham cracker crust)

4 oz Cool Whip or sweetened whipped cream
1/4 cup flaked coconut, toasted
Directions: In a small heavy saucepan, combine the sugar, cornstarch and salt. Add milk; stir until smooth. Cook and stir over medium-high heat until thickened and bubbly. Reduce heat to low; cook and stir for 2 minutes longer. Remove from the heat. Stir a small amount of hot filling into egg yolks; return all to the pan, stirring constantly. Bring to a gentle boil; cook and stir 2 minutes longer. Remove from the heat; stir in the coconut, butter and vanilla. Pour into prepared shell.

Refrigerate for 1-2 hours. Just before serving, spread Cool Whip or whipping cream over pie and sprinkle with toasted coconut. Yield: 8 servings.