Dedicated to My Sisters, aka the Biggest SW Dweebs I Know

Okay, just because I simultaneously discovered how to navigate YouTube and how to embed videos does not mean this is going to become a "look what I found on YouTube!" blog. Well, maybe it must become that for a time. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I just have to share this. Our family has a functioning R2-D2 replica, a motion-activated light saber that vibrates, and an encyclopedia of all things Star Wars. Tamara told us proudly that she discusses the finer points of Jaba's entourage on the bus home from school. We are big time losers in this house.



Pretty accurate, huh? Remember kids, don't talk back to Darth Vader, he'll getcha!

Made in Utah

Tamara showed me this spoof video a few minutes ago. Some kids at LPHS made it. Yeah, there's not much to do here sometimes.



Things I found immensely amusing: the Heimlich maneuver, the heart-shaped legs, the flower hat, the state of that boy's bedroom. I would have at least made my bed.

I can't enjoy anything I write because I mercilessly edit...

Received a reception? How am I an English major? I'm ashamed...

Incidentally, I always say the phrase "I'm ashamed..." with an accent. What accent, you inquire? The accent of the little "house detective" in the old Streisand/O'Neal film, "What's up, Doc?"

"Never heard of it?" Well, educate yourself.



Start at 1:55, and watch to 2:30. Or find yourself the entire film. It's hilarious, brilliantly staged and edited. The script is sidesplitting... Oh boy.

PS - That's a person named Eunice?

A Grenadilla in London

I've been a little homesick for London. I miss that alternate universe! Sometimes it seems like it was all a wonderful dream...

Anyway, enough with the sentimental nonsense. Two summers ago, I lived in Quito, Ecuador for three months. While there, I got to experience fresh "exotic" fruit firsthand. I introduced my pallet to a lot of new produce, and some received a warmer reception than others. My favorite new fruit, hands down, was the grenadilla, or the "grenade" as we gringas chose to call it. While in the little village of Hampstead, on the outskirts of north London, I ran across an exotic fruit store that displayed out front, you'll never guess, grenadillas. These are so extraordinary, and there they were in Hampstead Heath! So of course, I had to buy one, and Rebecca and Kate each bought one too because, well, why not? Here's a picture of what this sweet little gem looks like:
Mmmm, right? I know, I know, it looks disgusting. The fruit looks like an orange grenade. The shell is pretty stiff, and sounds hollow when you thump your finger against it. Then break it open, and whoa! "What is this?" In Ecuador, we affectionately called the seed sacs "monkey brains," or "mocos" ("snot" in Spanish). You just have to go for it. You slurp out about, mmm, 10 sacs, and swish 'em around, break all the lining, get the sweet, sweet juice, and spit the seeds. Or swallow if you want. Makes for interesting bathroom experiences later. Here's a photo of moi enjoying my grenadilla inglesa on a park bench. Ay, !que rica fue!

Oh Youth...

I've never been to beauty or hair school in any way, shape, or form, but being the oldest in a family of five girls, I've done my share of hair-dos. A few weeks ago, Tamara went to Prom. I curled her hair, and it took about two hours. Now, she doesn't have much hair, it's just a little longer than mine, but I'm special so I take forever. But... I'm pretty darn proud of it. (Photos courtesy of Trish... and my camera.)

There's a little corner of my face, which is about all I'm willing to post of me in an unshowered, untanned, and undieted state. Mostly, I just wanted to showcase my cute sister with her pre-prom nerves shining through a bit.

Oh my gosh, this took forever. She owes me big.

We were taking too long, so mom started doing her makeup. She looks like a pampered little brat. The truth is finally out... Kidding, Tam, kidding!

So pretty! The thing I love about Tamara is that she doesn't worry too much about it. The Watkins way.

The final product:

Hahahahaha... Good thing prom's not awkward or anything...

Stalking

So I think the first thing just about every newly called missionary does is stalk her mission. At least, that's what I've been doing. I found this cool blog entry about a youth conference in Lisboa. I was so excited to see my mission president, Craig B. Terry, and his wife, Candice, sitting in the front row of one session of conference (see video at the end of the blog page). Oh, I'm already in love with the beautiful people and the beautiful language!

La Gringa

"Gringa" is what I am, but it also happens to be the name of the most fabulous comestible I have ever... comested. Have you had a taco al pastor? If you have, you understand its bewitchment. If you haven't, well, I pity your poor soul. Let me tell you of its goodness.

First, you take a small corn tortilla. You drag it quickly through oil, brown it on both sides, and then lay it in another, sometimes unheated, corn tortilla. These tortillas should be the size of your hand. Next, you take pork, which has been marinated in a secret recipe that I have yet to figure out, and is presently roasting on a vertical spit. Regarding the secret recipe: one taco guy in Cabo San Lucas told me, "Um, it's paprika, I think. Mostly paprika powder. Uh huh." So it's secret. Anyway, shave off some of the spicy meat, directly into the tortillas. Then, take a couple little nicks off the pineapple, which is at the top of the spit. Catch the said pieces of pineapple in the tortilla from above your head, like so:


Then, pile on some cilantro and chopped onion. Oh my gosh. No sauce necessary, the meat is so juicy and flavorful, the cilantro so fresh and fragrant... I like to squeeze a lime wedge over it all, but that's it. MmmMMM!

Okay, so that's a taco al pastor. Are you ready to hear about "la gringa"? For those of you with heart conditions, this may be more than you can bear, so don't sue me if you go into cardiac arrest from my impending description.

Was that enough of a warning? Okay.

So, "la gringa" is all the components of a taco al pastor... BUT BETTER. I didn't think it was possible. Let me explain. Alright, instead of a pair of little corn tortillas, you take one larger flour tortilla. Now, this isn't your grocery store, precooked, smooshed bread sort of tortilla. This is pure lard and flour, baby. You can see through this puppy. It is rich and perfectly chewy-tender. On that base, melt some fresh Mexican cheese. Ahhhh I'm drooling... Next, throw on the meat and trimmings from the regular taco al pastor. Finally, eat. Change your life. My father and my trip to Baja California was all about the food. Wouldn't have it any other way. Scrumptious.

O Chamamento

Just had to put this sucker up here. I got my mission call! Here's a video of my family participating in the call opening practice. It's pretty fun. Mary Jane really wanted me to go to Slovenia so I could live in a city called Ljubljana. Sorry Moj. Still, I'm thrilled with my mission destination, and can't wait to get going! This will be a summer of language study... I can't wait!

Snow in May (almost).

So it snowed in May. Almost.

Happy Hands Club in Annie's Room

I owe everyone big time. I'm sorry. I have no excuse for myself. So here's the first of a slurry of posts.

We were all hanging out in Annie's room the other night, just... not doing much. Annie is the sister chucking stuff at people at random intervals. I'm the one singing and whistling. Our friend Elise is curling Tamara's hair, practice run for Prom. Tamara is the sister doing happy hands' fun. Trish is the sister doing the ugly dance and kvetching about the internet. Mary Jane's on the bed with me I think.

This is what we do. We're the Watkins girls. Enjoy.