A Few Remarks Pertaining to Existence At Large

My first thought is that life is ultimately good, and by a wide margin. No, truly it is! Some moments make this goodness apparent, and one of the happiest events occurs when you enjoy several such moments in rapid succession:

"Imagine living with three Emma's." "They'd all be like, egajklawimcopv!" 
"Patron!" 
"Confession, I..." "Let's just agree that everything said over Rolo cookies stays with Rolo cookies."
"You just don't understand FAME."
"Are you talking about Mistake Suit #1 or Mistake Suit #2?" 
"He went to the edge of the precipice and walked along it, buuuuuuuut he fell off - you're not supposed to do that." "WOW." "Hey, the suit was an unjustifiable risk! People may have been hurt for all we know!"

(Those were all excerpts from Friday's fantastic ongoing dialogue; it was a marvelous day.)

Another thought: everyone in your life serves a purpose. 

Examples: what would I do without my unconventionally (and sometimes brutally) honest friend? She has lent much to my awareness and has helped me become more patient and forgiving, when before I was much too sensitive far too much of the time. What would I do without my friend who loves foreign men and a good cookie as much as I do? She talks to me freely and openly on many topics people avoid or don't even consider, and she emphasizes to me the significance of friendship. The friends who burst into song with me give me great pleasure! I have friends who permit me to drive them home because they know that I don't like driving alone, and I have friends who are actually happy to go see terrible movies with me and they enjoy them as much as I do. I have friends who have moved and whose absence in my daily life highlights how powerful relationships can be. Then there are those people who stumble into your life only for a short amount of time, blubber something seemingly disjointed, and then leave, and it is not until later when you are older, more experienced, smarter, more thoughtful, etc, that you can recognize what they added to your life in the moments they came into contact with it, and you only then can comprehend the impact they had on you.

There are no coincidences: people come and go only when it is called for, weather only favors or confounds when the favor or confounding serves a purpose, and trains, planes, and automobiles are only delayed or hurried along when that is the occurrence that must occur. The relocation of the Srivastavas, who are practically family to me, to Australia has been a dominating trial in my life since June. Their absence has made me incredibly lonely these past few months (who else am I to play Settlers with?:), especially when coupled with other prevailing circumstances, and I know that the move has been a source of both great pleasure and hardship for them and that it will ultimately benefit us all, so think: what lessons are being learned? Am I learning to reach out to others and initiate new friendships? You bet. I've found it absolutely necessary, and it has been very rewarding. So even in the midst of what seem to be taxing obstacles shuffled at random into our lives, be assured that is not chaos that reigns, but reason and order, and that no one is subject to things that do not apply to them. And yeah, that's all for now. I lahve you all.

Stealing poignantly beautiful photos of Ethan, Bretta, and Isabelle from Raj (Srivastava). Awww yeeeah.

In conclusion, Carl Jung said, "In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order," so "In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you." That's Deepak Chopra's followup. :)

Adios amigos, 
Scouty Pout

Summer Post #1: Ask Me

Gah, this is so bizarre. It's been almost 8 weeks since I posted last, and so, so, so much has happened. I don't know where to begin... I don't know what to tell you, and I don't know what I want to tell you... What a predicament. 

Well, let's start with the basics to get you caught up: I finished sophomore year. I made two cakes for two people I adore. I attended two graduations. Four of my little cousins stayed at our house for a week and I took care of the baby - August. "Is this a people? Jenny, is this a people?!" (That was Olive, my three-year-old cousin that I LOVE! Even when she is being difficult, which is fairly often. Also, I'm her "Monster Friend"... Real charming, I know; I have Isaac to thank for that title.) I spent time planning for our Youth Conference (that includes the time I spent making 300 cookies for it - exciting - and a memorable trip to Costco) and I spent time pretending I'm cool, listening to French pop and rolling my sleeves up. I spent time in a satellite campus of heaven: a hot, dusty, small town in southeastern Utah called Montezuma Creek where horses roam free and where I met magnificent people and washed oobleck off the feet of children in giant kitchen sinks and walked on the railings of a bridge that spanned the lazy summer river. I met Tiny, I met Tarzan, I met Miko, Quinton, James, Sunshine, Teryn, Kayla, Javy, Dillion, Darnell, Kami, Carthenia, Sofie, Josie, Kirri, Sid, and Christian at Camp Einstein. I served with Ray and Oleta, Johanna, Peter, David, Autumn, Miss Susan, the Harvey family, the always outstanding Orton family, Diiny, Jenny, and the kindest and most helpful janitor in the world who unlocked Montezuma Creek Elementary School early so I could make 200 cookies for the campers... That's about 500 cookies in one month, 200 of them made in an industrial kitchen. Dreams really do come true. Oh, and super powers exist! I mean, Will Orton taught us all to make quicksand, we singlehandedly turned the entire riverbank into a death trap, and none of us died, so that's pleasant. 

After that transcendental week, I traveled for 8+ hours in one day so I could make it to Bear Lake by Saturday night for the Minster family powwow. Lots of people in one vacation house... Lots of noise, lots of mess, lots of worry, but just as many smiles, hugs, walks, and just as much laughing, overall enjoyment, and tanning. Just kidding, I'm Minster-Asay pale, so instead of "white bread white" like I was previously, I am now, like, slightly less "white bread white". Except for my tummy... Casie, my redhead friend, could probably still beat me on midriff darkness, as she did last year and there is no reason why she wouldn't beat me this year. But yeah, Bear Lake was great, and now I've been back for a week and a half and that's been great too. Summer is magical. Like, tie-dye-stained hands magical, or late night Sherlock parties magical, or "oh my gosh, there's a lobster in the gully!" magical. Barefoot magical, early morning rain magical (Peter, Paul, and Mary reference! Extra points!), kitchen heat magical, that strange moment when you see Mme. Schroeter at Costco magical, 4th of July barbecue with Sara's lavender honey pie magical, ducks in the backyard magical, summer reading magical (sort of, I mean, Russian lit is bleak), homemade berry syrup magical, cause and effect magical. Summer makes you exceptionally happy to be alive, and it cultivates in you a fervent desire to live! It's fabulous!

No pierda un minuto no vive, ¡vive! 

Scout

Shyness is nice, and shyness can stop you
From doing all the things in life you'd like to;
Shyness is nice and shyness can stop you
From doing all the things in life you'd like to
So if there's something you'd like to try,
If there's something you'd like to try,
Ask me I wont say no, how could I?
Coyness is nice, and coyness can stop you
From saying all the things in life you'd like to
So, if there's something you'd like to try
If there's something you'd like to try
Ask me I wont say no, how could I?
Spending warm Summer days indoors
Writing frightening verse
To a buck-toothed girl in Luxembourg
Ask me, ask me, ask me
Ask me, ask me, ask me
Because if it's not Love then it's the bomb, 
The bomb, the bomb,the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, 
The bomb that will bring us together
Nature is a language - can't you read?
Nature is a language - can't you read?
So, ask me, ask me, ask me,
Ask me, ask me, ask me
Because if it's not Love then it's the bomb, 
The bomb, the bomb,the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, 
The bomb that will bring us together
If it's not Love, then it's the bomb,
Then it's the bomb that will bring us together
So, ask me, ask me, ask me,
Ask me, ask me, ask me
Oh, la la la....

("Ask", The Smiths)

Mother's Day: NOT A Second Valentine's Day

This Mother's Day was actually pretty spectacular, though from the outside it might have appeared modest. I woke up and remembered that I was at my Asay grandparents' house, and remembered dipping and decorating strawberries with my lovely cousin Kenna and talking to and listening to my Grandma Asay, who somehow managed to not kill my father in his adolescence. (For that, I am very grateful.) I was later able to learn more from my Asay grandma about motherhood, who deliver a beautiful, insightful, and inclusive talk in Relief Society, and after that, I visited with and helped my Grandma Minster prepare for dinner, and we stopped in to see her mother on the way to my house. These are  ladies who are all mothers according to my "definition" of motherhood: motherhood is a calling, and all women have that calling; motherhood does not necessarily mean having two, three, six, or ten children at home to feed, clothe, and look after; motherhood is to bring, train, or raise someone up with care and affection. Guess what? Some of the best mothers have not been biological mothers at all; they reach out to other people's children (everyone is someone's child) and nurture them and teach them. To me, that is motherhood, pure and simple. 

Just because motherhood as a noun is simply defined does not mean that as an action it is easy. It is my personal belief that being a parent is the most difficult, draining occupation in the world, and I am not and have not been a parent. Motherhood and maternity? These are sacrifices, they are taxing jobs. It's always comforting to keep in mind, though, that the definition reads that a sacrifice is the surrender of something desirable for the sake of something considered as having more worth. Although extremely difficult and disheartening at times, the rewards of engaging in motherhood will ALWAYS outweigh the costs. I myself will be eternally grateful for the mothers in my life: my Grandma Asay, my Grandma Minster, Jackie, Bretta, Crelley, Laura, Melissa, Ann, and my mazza Jenny, who really, truly is a BRIGHT light in my life and who I love past the moon, to Jupiter, around Pluto, and all the back. I do not know who I would be without her; well, except that I would be different. She has taught me a lot about willingness, service, the importance of work, the gospel, self-sufficiency, priorities, passions, purpose, open-mindedness, my Heavenly Father, my divine nature and individual worth, other people, empathy, love, and motherhood and the divine calling of women. I have also learned the true value of sunscreen from her. While the last was more of a joke, I have learned a lot from her. 

What if she had not been there for me? What if she had not married my dad? What if I had not been born to her? What if she had not made the sacrifices she did? I would most likely be unloved, to be completely honest. I would have a character of much less caliber and I would wander and be lost, utterly lost. My mom is my rock, my sun, and my stars, and I can never repay her, but I can try. And, oh, I will. 

A very merry Mother's Day to all,
Scout 

"College Mom"

 Grandma, Mom, Mal

 My mom is seriously gorgeous.

One of the best tributes to mothers, I now offer this poem as a tribute to my own mother, because Billy Collins just says it so much better. I love you mom.

The Lanyard - Billy Collins

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

The Lights of New York Rival the Light of the Sun

Give my regards to Broadway
Remember me to Herald Square
Tell all the gang at 42nd Street 
That I will soon be there

Whisper of how I'm yearning 
To mingle with the old time throng
Give my regards to Old Broadway 
And say that I'll be there, 'ere long!

It ought to be mentioned that this is New York part 3. 

Four shows later... I'm in love with Broadway, again. It didn't take much, just about five minutes of "Peter and the Starcatcher", and BAM! Head-over-heels, true love, magic. But then, this is Broadway we're talking about, after all, so what did I expect? I've typed up some super short reviews of each show I watched to give you an inkling of the joy I experienced while in the various theaters. 

Monday Night: "Peter and the Starcatcher" - phenomenally funny and staged very cleverly with a smaller but well-rounded cast, I would brand it a must see. The first half was very fast-paced and honestly, the whole show was fit to burst with energy. Captain Hook stood out to me because he was *very* talented, especially with his physical acting, and very comical and interesting to watch. A joy for the entire family! Haha

Tuesday Night: "Tally's Folly" - I was the youngest person in the audience by at least twenty years... It did have some more mature themes and extensive dialogue with little action, but once you reach "that age", this two-hander really cracks your egg (reference to the play) and takes you on an emotional roller coaster. Also, Danny Burnstein is spectacular. Loved the play and would buy tickets for the other plays in the trilogy. 

Wednesday Night: "Old Hats" - Again, one of the youngest people in the audience! This one was very different from anything else I had ever seen, though: it was a vaudeville slapstick comedy piece made up of unconnected scenes performed by Bill Irwin (Mr. Noodle from Elmo's World) and David Shiner, with transitions filled with Nellie McKay, her music, and an array of her musicians. I recommend to you all shows Irwin and Shiner write/perform and McKay's music, which is full of enchantingly dark-humored lyrics. "If you would sit oh-so-close to me, that would be nice, like it's supposed to be. If you don't, I'll slit your throat, so won't you please be nice?"

Thursday Night: "Matilda" - A show with spirit, ironic humor, and true human kindness. I LOVED "Matilda": the cast was amazing (especially the children in it), the lyrics were witty but not overambitious, the music was full of heart and energy, and the set was AMAZING. And guys, Ms. Trunchbull was played by Bertie Carvel, who is dexterous, masterly, and brilliant; he was definitely a highlight in the show and I'm so grateful that he reprised his role for Broadway because oh my gosh, he's fabulous! I think that this is one of the best new shows, and certainly one of the best new musicals. 

Go look for video clips on YouTube,
Scout

New York Part Two

This is all about food.

Ya shoulda seen it comin'.

Well, this bit should be fun! I only had to eat (almost) every meal for a week and visit 6+ bakeries to collect enough material for a New York food post... Not that it was a sacrifice on my part or anything.

Anyway, I'll dive right in: here are Scout's new rules for cooking/food in general:

1) Use more bean sprouts. Just do it. I'm quite certain they would taste good in anything. Or almost anything.

2) Bread and chocolate? Always a good idea, much like Paris. Pain au chocolates galore, chocolate-almond muffins, fabulous morning rolls gushing melted chocolate from Levain Bakery, brioche with melty chocolate chips, chocolate sour dough twists from Amy's Bread... You gained 5 lbs. just reading that list.

Levain: how do they do it!?

3) Duck is only good if prepared well. If you can't do it, don't.
4) Crinkle fries are not always tacky, in fact, they can be quite good. The key is to make them less salty and oily and more full-figured.
5) Only eat as much steak as you can handle in that hour, even if it is only a few bites. It takes courage to eat such a small amount of steak, let me tell you.
6) Every restaurant, bakery, cafe, etc, has that one WOW item; find it and order it and never regret it.
7) Find the best bakery, and stick to it. It's your fault if it closes.

I concluded that Amy's and Levain were my favorites.

8) Glitter goes with everything, food included. It's the only thing that saved the cupcake from Magnolia's from going down in my book as a complete and total failure. Well, glitter-coated and that it was labeled "Breakfast at Tiffany's"; that certainly helped them.

Terrible flavor and texture, but at least it was super cute. 

9) Find a fabulous pesto recipe and use it until the day you die. And give it to me. :)
10) If they get your order wrong, punch them in the face. Haha juuuust kidding, what you should really do is become an acclaimed food critic, become their nemesis, drive them out of business, arrange for their facility to be demolished, light the wreckage on fire, and dance on the warm ashes until they turn cold. Savor the simple moments. (Again, just kidding. Just politely explain what has happened and get what you ordered and wanted. Savor being the gentleman/woman.)

Well, that's good enough, what with me not being a seasoned food critic or chef and all. Enjoy your week and your food!

Lover of bunny-shaped bread (Amy's),
Scout

New York City Part One // A "Nothing In Particular" Review

New York... Is sensational, staggeringly delightful, and catastrophically chaotic. It is full of venerable old brick buildings, shiny-sparkling new buildings, small restaurants and massive complexes that serve hordes of consumers (tourists especially), and is it just me or is everything in New York gargantuan or, well, small? It might just be me, but that's inconsequential. What is of great consequence to me is the actual city of New York, the captivation it induces. Let me elaborate while you settle back with a nice, broken-in pillow or, oh, I don't know, a Thighmaster. 

To start with, New York City is NOT overrated; I'm not kidding. Walking the pavement surrounded by bustling people and fenced in by towering buildings full of more bustling people gives you a spring in your step and a twinkle in your eye that nothing else can. It's entirely unique. In New York, you feel you are a part of something. Everyone belongs, no matter where they work or how much money they make, regardless of what they believe or what they think they will do that coming Friday night, and it doesn't even matter what their political views are or what they are wearing that season because everyone belongs. That's pretty remarkable - astoundingly, really - and it's mostly due to the diversity of the area. New York is an incredibly heterogenous city, and that makes it unique. To put it shortly, New York has a particular ring to it.

Also, to add to that, New York City is glamorous. There is a special type of glamor involved in seeing a guy vomit up his drink from the night before or enjoying the view of a blue sky fenced in with skyscrapers - I promise. More conventional signs of glamor would be the constant stream of limousines (disgusting), the lavish hotels full of sharp attendants, and the well-tailored clothes that a majority of the population is decked out in. Seriously, no matter the level of income, almost everyone wears apparel that fits... It's one of the most outstanding and mind-blowing things I have ever seen in my entire life, and I commend New Yorkers for the feat. But as alluded to earlier in the paragraph, glamor is not just finery: glamor (to me) is exciting, distinct, and obviously attractive (in a very general sense); details that make a place unique. Glamor is a kind of magic, and it can be found most everywhere... And it was blatantly obvious to me in New York. 

To recap, I loved New York because it was different from what I usually experience: sounds, smells, tastes, feelings, surroundings at large; it had a special movement to it; it was unpredictable; it was glamorous; I liked feeling a part of something big; I loved seeing and hearing all the new people; I loved all the newness; it was stubborn and prideful, and it was stunning. New York is like that person who walks in the room and you immediately believe that they own the place because they're so confident and in control and interesting; they're riveting. So yeah, that's New York: it's a bit of fantastical quicksand that sucks you down in a second. And I am in love with it. 

Enthralled and enchanted,
Scout

Smitten

I should write about New York City, I really should: it is my duty as a recently returned traveler. However, this is currently a no-can-do situation, partner. Having informed you of that fact, I promise you that a) I want to write about the wonders of a week in New York, and that b) I will. But this is all too pressing.

I love to bake. I love folding berries into batter, the aroma of brownies being created in the fires of kitchen-hell, sprinkling cinnamon-sugar over scones and whisking them away into the oven, where the sugary layer will transcend to an even more delightful state. I even love the heat of a summer kitchen, though that one took some time, and the challenge of it all. In my baking career - if one can call it that - many things have emerged from my oven. I will be direct and frank: a lot of them were fantastically scrumptious and "successful" - though who can really measure success? Anyway, today another experiment joined the "successes". The name? Boy Bait; Blueberry Boy Bait. 

I'm kind of clever... Moving along to you, let me guess, you're thinking, "Boy Bait? Scout thinks she can buy affection with baked goods?" Here is what I am saying: "..." And here is what I am now going to say: "No, however, here are the points I would like to make: a) a certain level of affection CAN be purchased, so ha; b) I am not trying to do that, heaven forbid; c) I didn't name the recipe; d) whether you are a boy or not, you would be lured in by this treat." I've said it all. 

And somehow explained nothing. Well, here you go: I wanted to make something "for" General Conference today, and after sorting through all the food inspiration I got in Gotham, I found that I was particularly inspired by all the fabulous pastries I sampled over the course of the week. This of course included those splendid blueberry muffins that I enjoyed on many occasions. So what did I do? I did a speedy search through the files of the ever-trusty food blog Smitten Kitchen (which is fittingly the creation of a New Yorker) and found this recipe for a blueberry-muffin cake; at least, that's basically what it is.

Although my cake turned out very well, I have no skill with the camera, so no, I did not take the picture. The photo is in fact from the Smitten Kitchen, which means the cake shown is Deb Perelman's, not mine. Mine was a tad more blueberry-infused anyhow. Sorry, you've been deceived. Also, because I can, here's an adorable picture (that I did not take because I'm a cat...and in the picture) of my cousin Emma Lahti and me:

She does know how to strike a pose, that little ball of white fluff.

Truly, madly, and deeply,

Scout