Gelato: Four Times in Five Days

I think that my love for gelato might be bordering on obsession. Murray may agree; I've dragged him to Maestro Gelato again and again ever since Jenny told me about the store opening. Last night, I put in a take-home order so that I could bring samples back to El Senor and my coworkers.

(Image not from actual store. Murray's camera is out of batteries.)

If you've never had gelato (and you live in the Provo area) now's your chance. It is a milk-based ice cream (less fat) that is a bit denser. If you have had gelato, then you already know you love it. Maestro Gelato gives you a chance to indulge without having to spend $1000 on a plane ticket to Italy.

I was shocked to find out that they have my favorite gelato flavor---yogurt. You may not think that sounds like much, but go in and try it (especially try it and chocolate or chocolate raspberry together) to understand what I'm talking about. Its tangyness (think cheesecake) perfectly complements chocolate. Of course, it tastes great with fruit flavors, too.

I was also shocked to discover that their gelato is exactly what I'd expect to find in Italy. This is the first time that I've found good Italian gelato here in the States.

So spread the word, please. I need these people to stay in business to feed my addiction.

Maestro Gelato, 22 West Center Street, Provo

(To those in Salt Lake City, I have yet to try Dolcetti. Once I do, I'll let you know how it compares to Maestro Gelato and real, Italian gelato.)

Puerto Nuevo and Coronado Island

Here is the follow-up picture to represent what really happened when we went to Puerto Nuevo and San Diego. We combined experiences we had in Mexico and on Coronado Island to bring you this very accurate version of what happened. (Note: The dolphins did come very, very close, but just when Switchback turned her back to bring her found, live sand dollar, the dolphins swam right up to us and let us play with them. It's so sad that Switchback missed out.)

Thirteen Thousand Words

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Later, Murray and I will illustrate our trip to San Diego so that you can see how it compares to our Puerto Nuevo prediction. In the meantime, I will provide you with all this evidence of fun and frivolity.

on the road

In New Port, Mexico:

Switchback kindly cropped out the graffiti, trash, and beer-drinkers. But I just negated all that work she did by telling you that this scene originally had all those things.

Our feast was worthy of the trip. The lobster was tiny but delicious. The cheese-stuffed, bacon-wrapped, deep-fried shrimp was the best.

Switchback and her lobster.

Me, Redras, and Redras's wrestling masks. Last year I brought a Mexican wrestling mask home from Tijuana, so this year, Redras simply had to get the same thing for her brothers. The bartering process occurred on our way out of Mexico. There is a long line of cars waiting to exit the country (it takes one to two hours to get out) and so street vendors walk through the slow-moving traffic with random merchandise. Want a Coke? They've got it. Want a gigantic plastic lawn turtle? They've got it. Squeezable polenta? Mexican popsicles? Check and check. Forgot to buy your life-sized crucifix? No problem---they'll bring it to you at the border.

Switchback, in two countries at the same time.

Redras in the back of the car.

Me, on La Jolla beach Sunday night, proving that going to the beach is a Sabbath activity because I'm wearing my Sunday clothes. Murray and I learned that we do, actually, like long walks on the beach.

Murray on the beach. Holding my purse. But you wouldn't know it.

Looking for birds and whales and other sea creatures at Cabrillo National Monument.

A mermaid on the beach. Many thanks to Murray for not choosing to make me into a manatee.

An Announcement

Of course there's lots to report from our trip to San Diego and Mexico, but I'll wait till we actually have pictures. For now, I'd really like to talk about what was in my mailbox this morning.

The explanation starts about nine months ago...

Oh boy. Now you're thinking that there was a baby in my mailbox. Really, the whole "nine months" thing is a coincidence. It just so happened that nine months ago, I was making a special effort to get out more and meet new people. This involved attending any ward activity I could stomach and accepting invitations to random people's birthday parties. So it was that last October, I found myself at a birthday party for a ward girl. There were a lot of other people at the party, but during the course of the evening, I was able to meet her and her boyfriend/fiance.

The stint of "meeting new ward people" didn't really last very long, and so it was that I probably only talked to this girl and her fiance the night of that party and maybe a nod or two in the halls afterwards.

Last week, when I was at Hancock fabric buying the rest of my supplies for my Betty Shopper bag, I saw her and her fiance. I made eye contact---kindof---with the fiance who didn't seem to recognize me at all (nine months ago was a long time) so I didn't really feel the need to go up and start a conversation with either of them. Not out of spite. Just out of having absolutely nothing to say because really, we just casually barely knew of one another's existence.

In fact, when I was ready with my fabric, I stood at the fabric cutting counter right beside them. Again, it's not like they recognized me or anything, which I, of course, was fine with because like I said, it's not as if we had some fabulous friendship. I left the store without ever talking to them.

This morning, I checked my mail on my way to work to see if my latest Etsy purchase arrived. It didn't. But I leafed through what was there and found an announcement-looking envelope. I opened it up to find this couple's wedding invitation.


This basically means that for invitations alone, I can never afford to get married (sorry Murray---give up on me now) because apparently the rule is that you must send an invitation to every person you have ever said hello to, briefly been acquainted with, or nodded at in a hall.

I'm Not an Addict (Maybe That's a Lie)

I currently have two addictions (three if you count Murray). They are Etsy and Amy Butler fabrics and patterns. The bad thing about these addictions is that I don't feel remorse when I spend money on either of them.

With Etsy, I'm supporting independent art, which is actually quite noble. The writer of Design Sponge talked about creating a gallery wall in her home and I've decided I'm going to do the same thing after I've collected enough art. (Luckily because of Murray, I won't have to buy all the art---he can create it and then I can display it.) But so far, I've purchased three things on Etsy. In one week's time... come to think of it, it may actually be a bad addiction (not to mention that I coerced Ambrosia into purchasing a crochet pattern on Etsy so that she can try it out and then teach me how to do it). The positive side effect of being an Etsy addict is that I now check the mail almost every day, whereas previously I think I would go about three months on average between opening my mailbox (El Senor did it, and really, if all I'm getting is junk mail and bills that are already automatically paid, why take the effort to get my mail?).

This is my first Etsy purchase, a print from Dkim.

My second addiction is Amy Butler fabric and patterns. I also justify these purchases because I consider them "market research." I would eventually like to produce my own original fabric line (instead of designing fabric for a corporation). I also love her bags, and I figure that since I help to design bags as well, sewing Amy Butler's bags is really just investing in my own skills and knowledge. Did I spend $100 in Amy Butler stuff last month? Yes! And what an investment!

Last night I completed this Amy Butler bag just in time to take it to the beach in San Diego. Next month I'll take it to the beach in New Jersey.

And as long as I'm showing things I've bought and made, I may as well give you a sneak peak at a a lining I've done for work. I don't show my designs on the blog because they're not my property, but I think I can ethically get away with showing this picture of a sample product... This weekend I'm also using a weekender bag that uses my poppy pattern on the outside. I'll have Murray get a shot of it and post it when I get back.

Sincerity at its Sincerest

Because I am a responsible woman, I did the responsible thing and made an appointment for my pap test. I underwent the whole ordeal a couple of weeks ago and because I have at least the tiniest ounce of propriety, I won't discuss the details of that appointment.

I will, however, share that during my appointment, I had this to look at on the wall in front of me:

(Okay, not really, but there was a picture of a little girl with her eyes wide and her mouth open, which was funnier/even worse than The Scream. And even though I had my camera in the room with me, and I was all alone barely swathed in sheets of paper, I didn't want to take the picture for fear of 1) getting caught and being considered a freak show and 2) catching the reflection of my scantily paper-clad self in the photo.)

During the visit, the NP became concerned that I may have thyroid disease. It runs in my family. She ordered blood work and told me I'd have the results in about two weeks. Yesterday, I received this letter in the mail:

It scares me to think what they would have sent me if my blood test had not, actually, been normal.

Hola, Puerto Nuevo!

This morning, I told my mom that Murray and I had been researching Puerto Nuevo on the internet because we're headed there this Saturday. After several minutes of talking about other things, she asked, "Now what were you and Murray researching on the internet?" I said, "Puerto Nuevo. Mexico." Then, relieved, she said, "OOOhhhhhh. I thought you said porno label."

My mom. She doesn't speak the Spanish.

Here is an illustrated version of what Murray and I expect Puerto Nuevo to be like:

(Copyright Bored in Sunday School Productions, Cicada and Murray Inc.)

We're headed out to San Diego on Friday so that we can spend the weekend with Switchback, her softball team, and Kelly Roxanne. And to eat cheap lobster on the beach in Porno Label, Mexico. It'll be some good times for sure.

(Murray's bald photo was replaced with a more accurate version. His place of prominence on my blog represents his place of prominence in my heart.)

My Hairitage

Now that I've added a picture of bald-Murray to my sidebar, I may as well write a post about hair. But my hair. Sorry. I'm very egotistical that way.

It has come to my attention that recently, two friends have gotten the Cicada haircut. The first was C, who printed out pictures of me from my blog and took them to her hair dresser. Quite possibly there is nothing more flattering in the world. Well, only one thing: Finding out that Daltongirl would have done the same thing except that she couldn't print the pictures. She just described my hair to her hair dresser.

While this makes me feel pretty and popular and pretty much exactly like a celebrity, I would like to point out that as I mentioned in my last post, I only post unusually attractive pictures of myself to my blog. There are many pictures---including pictures with bad hair---that I don't include. Here, for your enjoyment, are several pictures of me with different hair styles. You may choose which one to print out and bring to your hair dresser.

Do I do more at work than just take pictures of myself? The answer is yes, actually. These pictures have been taken over a long period of time and usually, they were taken because I wanted to send Murray a picture of What I'm Doing Right Now.


I really do apologize for my extended absence from blogging. On the fourth, I was at Murray's parents' home and they said that they don't see as much of Murray anymore, but they don't mind because they know he's in good hands. I hope that you, my blog readership, will have as much understanding.
I obviously can't recap everything that has happened over the past few weeks, but allow me at least to post a few pictures that were meant to be separate blog entries. Here's the condensed version.

Barking Bird

I heard this barking sort of bird in the bushes. I was convinced that this time, I could find it. I had failed previously, but assumed it to be a pheasant. This time, when I was trying to find the bird, I found a muddy trail leading to the river, bringing me closer to the bird. I followed that muddy trail all the way down into the Jordan River. My splash scared away the bird. Then I biked home muddy and soaking wet. I apologize for the picture. I usually post only unusually attractive pictures of me to the blog. But now that my blogging wiles have firmly secured me Murray, I can post whatever picture I want.

Murray's First Boggle

Murray played Boggle for the first time with me and The Boy. After the first round, he had four words. He really is so sweet and cute. And I have to remind him that he'll kick my butt at Star Wars Trivial Pursuit. After a few rounds, The Boy had 31 points. I had 20-something. Murray had 2 and a picture of a rocket ship. At least Murray learned the very most important lesson of Boggle: If someone starts snickering, look for the dirty word on the board. His mother would be pleased to know that he wasn't very good at that either.

Sundance on the Fourth

On the Fourth of July we went to Sundance with Murray's family and rode the ski lift. My favorite part was when money started fluttering out of Murray's pocket. At least there were no twenties among the bills that got away.

And now, a pledge to be a better blogger.