Recipe Blogging: Easy College Meal with pictures

The easiest, yummiest, quickest meal is to follow: Toasted wrap with secret ingredient, homemade creme fraiche.

Begin with the best tortillas on the market.

After cooking one side, flip over, add some deli turkey or any other meat of choice. Then sprinkle with cheese.

I love extra sharp cheddar, but anything will do. I buy the bar because it is cheaper, and because then you can avoid the chemicals that all grated cheeses have in order to keep the pieces from sticking to each other.

Add some black beans from a can. You can save the unused beans in a tupperware for tomorrow when you are craving this meal again. I didn't add the beans today, but I am wishing worth France that I did.

Then add all your favorite vegetables. Green onions might just be my absolute favorite food. So I cut up two green onions for my wrap. I bought a bunch of other vegetables - cucumber, avocado, sometimes peppers and tomatoes - but I found that just a good dose of green onions alone does the trick. Other vegetables sometimes take away from the greatness of the green onion.

In order to speed up the cooking process, I just use kitchen scissors to cut up the onions instead of a knife. 

I just so happened to have some left over creme fraiche from a month or so ago. Creme fraiche is quite expensive, but it is so easy to make. Just put a few cups of heavy whipping cream in a bowl and mix in a few tablespoons of buttermilk. Then let it sit on the counter with a clean rag over it for 24 hours. Viola: Creme fraiche. It will get thicker as you let it sit in the fridge.

Easy Breazy. The creme fraiche turned this simple I-didn't-have-time-to-cook recipe into your everyday gourmet meal.

I hope you have enjoyed. Signing out.

We made a pulley

Maybe a week ago, I had Say over for breakfast which turned into the brilliant idea of making a pulley from my apartment to hers. Bing, Bang, Genious. Now we can send each other little notes or treats, and basically what I am saying is the whole ward is probs def jay-jay jealous.

I know we are not in third grade anymore, but we are still in college. We gotta live it up while we can. Real life is pretty much chasing us down.

This is me delivering a strawberry cow tail to my sister say.

BYU Running

This uniform has carried me through many a cross country and track race where everything hurt and I wanted to step off the course or catch that girl in front of me, then the next one, or I was passed over and over and over again; or I glided past the finish line insisting I could do it faster; or finished struggling to even make it off the track. So cliche, but blood, sweat, tears - all went into this uniform. There was the time I ran the entire race with my teammate, Darbs. We attacked each rolling hill and pushed each other forward. And there was when I was spiked on lap one and finished out my mile with blood dripping down my shin (happened many times actually). There was breaking the 4 X 800 record that one time freshman year. There was going out way too fast and running backward on the last 100 meters. There was turning the corner on cross country nationals, wondering if I was in last place, and hearing my teammate come up behind me and give me a push, telling me to run with her. I finished that race and turned around to see if I had been dead last. I wasn't, but that fact that I even wondered. And this is why I am so happy to hold my uniform and remember how wonderful, how horrible, how defining that time was for me in my life.

Together, we're gonna change the world: one student at a time

Laughter Game

Somewhere on the internet, I ran into a little saying: If you fake laugh long enough, you will actually begin to laugh.

Try it. We did. Last night, it was late, okay it was only 10 pm, Sarah and I put that saying to the test. Hahah, hehe, hehhehe. And then that moment, when you really start to laugh is a moment unlike any other. It was so great that we both wanted to mood of the room to calm down so we could do it all over again. Then it was a game. Who can hold out longer before cracking up?

Speaking of laughter, I would really love for the weather outside to turn into Spring again. So I could go on a bike ride or sit around outside with otter pops like I did a month ago.

Nicknames

Yonder four years ago I was not a big nickname user. Sure, I called my siblings by their nicknames, but I can not think of anyone else who had that privileged. Okay, sometimes, rarely, I called my friend Makayla a little shortened Makay. But I always called my friend Liz, Elizabeth even though more people called her Liz than anything else.

Things have changed. Sarah Edwards is Sare; Sarah Darby, Darbs; and then there is my roommate Sarah whose initials are S.A.Y: so I call her Say - or Say-Say - or even Say-Say-Felipe - sometimes just Felipe. Faith is Faithy. Candace is sometimes Candy-Candy-Candace. Nikki became Nic. Kathryn: Fafryn. And Carolyn turned into Carolyn-a-lyn, or Carolyn-a-lyn-lyn, which is sometimes Lyn-a-lyn, and sometimes Lynie.

Why was I not a nickname user before??? I love it. Nicknames mean so much more than just referring to that person. When you call someone by a nickname you are saying their name and saying you love and care bout them at the same time.

But you have to earn the right to call someone by a nickname. My name is Michaelanne, but my family almost exclusively calls me Mike. But don't you go calling me Mike unless you mean it. My roommates, teammates, and close friends also call me Mike, but if you only just met me on the street, I would not tell you that was what I go by. You have to earn it; you have to mean it; but when people do start calling me Mike, I really love it.

Here's Lynie and me just hanging out on our backpacking trip Freshy year.

Nailzz

Way back on December twenty-fifth, I received these sticker nails as a gift. You're all jay-jay-jealous I'm sure; my sister was too. So then around thirty minutes past midnight last night, my angle roommate, Say, let me lie in my bed while she stuck these to each of my fingers and filed away the extra sticker with a pretty flimsy nail file. She loves me. We both got tired and she only finished one hand. Then she fell asleep in my room-roommate's bed because Faithy is out of town. So this morning, I skittled up to church one hand flowered, the other not. nbd - I slide. Why am I even blogging about his? Because I have roses on my nails, that's why; and just like my fat fingers in this awk pic, I am rockin' the sticker nails. And yes, I am twenty-two. Still young enough to get away with it.

Secondly, here is a shy-shout-out to my ward. If you are a YSA student around these parts, you are going to want to move into my ward. Beluga the best ward evs.

on shaving

It's the weirdest. I heard the French don't do it. Is that true? 'cause hippy-horrah, I am going to France. The strangest part of it occurs not more than 700 meters from my front door - the BYU testing center. That is, if you are a boy. I have heard about people being turned away because of that afternoon stubble even though they shaved that morning. so ridic. k but here comes the outlandish part: the BYU testing center sells razors. s-e-l-l-s-r-a-z-o-r-s. For just one dollar you can jiffy on over to the restroom and tidy up your face. Strange, but whatevs. Ya know, I think I am going to get me one of those testing center razors, for keepsakes or maybe as a white elephant gift, or maybe I just want one okay? I don't know why since I hate shaving, but, I mean, I still gotta do it, so why not season it up with my very own testing center razzzor. #yesigotobyu #yesitisthestrangest #yesiloveit #bestcollegeever #gocougars #arehashtagesevergoingtogetold

On a absolutely and completely random note. Here are two of my favorite people who don't have to shave. I love them.

The Braid

So I am a pen snob, pen connoisseur, pen snob. When I have a Pilot G-2 sweeping beneath my fingers, uhm-hm, I am figure skating on paper. They are très expensive, but they are worth it. I am worth it. My handwriting is worth it. The 05 sized tip rocks this world with its precise little curvy y's.

Speaking of Y's, why do I keep eating this store bought, homemade oreos? Sarah brought home a huge bag left over from her work. Faith and I took one bite and she threw her's away. But, guess what, the more gross cookies you eat, the better they start to taste. You can count on that statement right there. Or maybe they have drugs in them or poison. Do you ever feel like you are being poisoned? Me neither.

Back to pens, a trusty G-2 just ended it's career in my many notebooks. Respectable career, I would say; unlike those pens that only work half the time you touch them to paper. Today in one of my meetings, a guy I know made a pretty chill analogy about that. We don't want to be like those lazy pens that only work when they feel like it. We are depending on them to write when we need them. Like so, God is depending on us to be ready and willing when He wants to use us to be instruments in his hand. If we are not ready or able, He can easily just use another pen, another person, but we will miss out. Let me just tell ya, I want to be a G-2. That pen you can always rely on to get the job done and do it well.

Also, speaking of the Gospel, I found this great scripture that reminds me of being an ambassador of Christ, always standing as a witness for Him, not just in what we say, but also in what we do and how we live. From the Book of Mormon: Alma 17:11

I know I never related this gross cookies. Eating them does remind me of a story my grandma once told me. She once, as a little girl, refused to try chocolate. Yes, let's take a moment to get past how cray-cray this is. She was afraid she wouldn't like it because well, it was just a strange brown blob. Of course, she now realizes her foolishness. Likewise, I have really been enjoying these cookies that I once didn't love, but now I see their greatness.

S. P. E.

The trick is to never let anyone know you are stressed, and have a billion things to do; make everyone feel like you have all the time in the world for them.

This is Sarah's secret rule number 243, which refers to the rules of how Sarah lives her life without even knowing about it. She doesn't even know about the rule book.

I have been thinking about that lately because recently, my life has felt so out of balance. In fact, right now I am sitting on the floor, next to a pile of unfolded laundry, with the Bible open to James on my left, and my nature poetry notes on my right, my phone open in my lap, and my running shoes over in the corner, wagging their tail, begging to go out. I am supposed to be heading out to take that midterm, but instead, I am blogging.

And thinking about Sarah. I am glad I have really cool friends. The kind that would jump in front of mucky-snow splashes for you, keeping you dry.

And since I am about to take my poetry of the natural world from Romantic era to present midterm. Here is a poem by Robert Frost.

Dust of Snow

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of the day I had rued.

Bye-bye Winter! Welcome Welcome SPRRIINNNGGGG!

Campus

Once on Campus

1. I was walking toward the HBLL and cut only just slightly on the grass. One step, one foot, on an already dead grass piece. Thought nothing of it. Walking toward the west doors, I notice an old man, with a cane, slowly hobbling toward me, his eyes locked on me. I slowly walked up to him smiling. Such a cute old me. "Don't walk on the g-grass!" He snapped. seriously so cute. "Okay, thanks," was all I could choke up while trying not to laugh. Fellow campus walkers, respect this old man's grass!


2. You know those stairs that plummet down toward the SFH and RB? An everyday journey for me. Once, a poised, nicely dressed man stood at the top with a stern face. "Enjoy your descent." He said evenly. I cocked my head, "Why thank you." I probably mimicked his tone and started down.

These two things, they are only the least of it.

Even my cousin thinks this is weird.

Mini Salami

I know this is weird. I know you might judge me. Just listen to my story.

My roommate got married last summer. And before she got married, her fiance and her would carry around a huge, obnoxious beanie ball. A beanie ball is a beanie baby that is puffed up in a huge stuffed ball. They would bring it everywhere with them, even their engagement pictures, out to dinner, wherever, and pretend it was their child. Weird. I know.

They named it Salami  Here is a picture. He is about the size of a large beach ball. Then one day, she bought me a mini version of Salami. Same picture, only small enough  in fit in the palm of my hand. So I started sleeping with it. I, who has never slept with a stuffed animal in my life, started sleeping with Mini Salami. K but listen, he just fits so perfectly in the palm of my hand or in between my chest and arms, or lotz of other places too. To make a long, not so long, story short, I love sleeping with Mini Salami. Still do it. Every night actually. I will hold him in my arms all night long. I move positions, throw the covers off the bed, but in the morning, I will still be all cuddled up with Salami. Okay, I know this is weird. I'm weird. I still love Salami.

My old roommate who got married has no idea that I do this. Although I am sure she would get a kick out of it.

My current roommates semi-love it and want mini beanie ballz of their own.

My study abroad directors (yes I told my study abroad class when they asked for a strange slash embarrassing story about myself) think I should bring it to Paris, to help with culture shock. I wasn't going to bring it, but they convinced me. I bought Salami's ticket today.

A few random other people that I have confessed this to, think I am weird. Valid. I am.

I'm just going to revel in my weirdness.

Here is an awk pic of me in my pajamies with Salami.

Obssessed

Let me tell ya, it feel great to be doing something, everything that you love. Last night I was getting way into the lesson plan and frankly getting way lost in it, so I am going to talk to my professor today and I can't wait to hear what he thinks. Then I dropped my books and went on a night run with a friend. Ate blueberry muffins. That speaks for itself. Did some sloppy handstands with my roommate. Studied under my electric blanket until I feel asleep. Woke up before my alarm. Went on a run with some old teammates. Granola for breakfast. Headphones with classical music means paper writing time. Never been so engrossed in a paper before. Exceeding the page limit requirements. It is probably going to be almost 60 degrees today. Life's not perfect, but it is pretty good.

Of course, life isn't always swimming in a lagoon. When I was on the cross country team, my motto was "Hard days hard, easy days easy," and it could be shortened to "Hard-hard; easy-easy." When I was in the middle of a really hard workout I would say that over and over again in my head to remind myself that it was time to work hard. "Hard-hard, easy-easy, hard-hard, hard-hard." It even flowed with the rhythm fast breathing.Then on easy days I would have to remind myself to take my recovery miles slow - easy days easy. Now that I am thinking about it, life is like that too. (What a surprise; running is seriously always just like life.) Some days are hard, some days are easy. Maybe the trick is just loving the hard and loving the easy. It will still be both hard and easy, but one thing is for sure, life will be loved. Sometimes, Life needs some lovin'.

English Teachers are Weird

During our practicum class we were trying to convince our professor that everyone needs grammar because everyone needs to communicate no matter what they choose to do with your life. He was playing devil's advocate  and so our discussion got pretty charged. We were so sure that students needed to learn communication skills in order to be successful that we even ventured to say that a homeless beggar on the streets uses grammar, the conventions of the genre in which he is communicating - the cardboard sign, etc. After class, here is a real life texting conversation between me and my classmate Tani.

Tani: I was telling Melissa about our discussion about beggars and she said mimes don't need language! Haha I think we should bring that up next week. :)

Me: of course mimes need language!

Tani: When's the last time you heard or even saw a mime use language? I mean I guess they have to communicate ideas, but they do it completely through...miming. I can't believe we're even discussing this. People must think English teachers are so weird. :)

Me: well what about sign language? mimes are not that different. language really is just communication...and mimes communicate, and they even communicate through a shared code, or language, of mimes.

Me: also, yes we are so weird

Tani: Okay true I see your point. But the real question is, do they need grammar?

Me: hmmmm good question...if grammar is simply the conventions of a language then yes...just like a beggar needs grammar. mimes need to know the limits and channels in which their communication can flow...but then again that might just be intuitive bc it hits on human nature and experience. k we really are so weird

Tani: Seriously. But I'm probably going to be thinking about this all afternoon now...

Me: i actually love it...which makes me even weirder

Tani: I guess that's why we are going to be English teachers, huh?

Me: yep! #bestjobslashhardestjobever

Tani: :)

What do you think? 

           Do mimes need grammar???

Spencer from French

A few years ago in my French 201 class I met this kid named Spencer. He was funny and nice and a little bit different from what I would have expected. In French, every other second we pair up to talk aka practice our French, and he was always my partner because somehow we always sat next to each other. I liked him, thought he was pretty cool, and was pretty good at French too.

Then he stopped coming to class for a week, which is a big deal because in this four credit class, we were there every day. I got kinda a bit worried about him, but I didn't have his number to shoot him an are-you-okay-or-what's-up text. When he came back, I asked him where he had been (I asked him in French of course ;). He told me had gotten very sick and had been in the hospital all last week. Glad he was better, we got back to talking in French. Until he stopped coming again.

Was he okay? At the hospital again? Why didn't I ever get his number? It would have been perfectly reasonable to think that maybe he withdrew from the class. I mean, he had missed over a week, and French 201 is no springtime picnic. I hoped that had been the case, but I couldn't help but worry that something worse had happened. I hoped he was okay, but also realized that if he had passed away, I would not have even known. I would keep on living my life the same if he had dropped the class or if he had died. The thought bothered me, and I worried.

That was about two years ago. #tbt2011

The other day I was walking on campus, just thinking about nothing, maybe humming, and I saw Spencer. He was just walking out of a building, like he probably did every day, with his backpack over his shoulder and a beanie on his head like he always did way back in French class. I smiled so big at him, you probably wouldn't have been able to get the sunshine off my face. Of course, he didn't really remember me, so he gave me kind of a funny look, like "why are you so happy? I mean it is cool that you are happy, but you just look really happy and you are staring right at me." I was really happy. Just that feeling you get when you realize that someone you thought might have possibly been dead is alive, well, and breathing.

This slice of life had a cherry on top.

Stanley Kunitz

In my poetry of the natural world class we were studying the nature poetry of Stanley Kunitz, and this quote stuck out to me: "to be human is to know yourself to be living and dying at the same time." I am not sure what I think about this quote, but it definitely made me think. One of my American literature professors would always say that each breath that we breathe out is an exhale closer to death, but breathing is also one of the most fundamental things associated with life.

A good friend of mine is a deep thinker and has quite a reflective blog. When he graduated from college, we wrote about his lament of all the things, mostly the people, he left behind. He said that we wishes that he had begun these relationships knowing there was an end to them.

Is there an end to our relationships?

I have a particularly hard time with losing people, but I don't think that I want to start every relationship knowing it will end. Cherish the moments together, yes, but always be anticipating when things will end? Are we always dying? Are relationships going to end? Honestly, I am not sure. So I might as well always live and love as if living and loving are never going to end, and even if they do, I don't think I would change my mind.

When Hamlet said, "To be or not to be?" I like to think this is what he was talking about.

Give me Toast or...

Confession: Yes, I am supposed to be writing that lesson plan on personification, but what is wrong with a little snack? Here is the thing, our kitchen is not exactly gourmet. But that is fine because in college, you just make do - at least that is what we say. Problem number one: we don't have a toaster. And yes, this is a big problem because I love toast. Honey on toast, cheese on toast, PB on toast, or even better PB&J on toast, oh yes, eggs on toast with salsa and creamy Swiss cheese - toast is the bomb.com. We have been without a toaster for about five months, but let me tell ya, we would never go without toast. I have gotten pretty great at broiling my toast on the top rack of our oven. I knew when to turn it over, and was almost usually good at taking it out before it burnt. Until our oven stopped working. Well, it was just the top heater. So no more broiling, and instead, we decided to just bake it on the very bottom rack, close to the wire heater, on the highest temperature. Worked. Whew, what would we do without toast? But, this morning, my oh-so-domestic roommate was baking, and because she was way on top of things, she had preheated the oven. Problem number two: How was I supposed to make my toast? Cheese on toast was calling out to my taste buds. And so, don't you worry, I got a lil' bit creative, and here you go, the perfect toast.

Yes, I skewered my toast with a knife, and roasted it over the stove. #sohappywithmyself #yum #cheeseontoast

Here is me in my pajamas, just lovin' my life.

SOL March Challenge

During the month of March, there is a Slice of Life challenge that challenges all writers to write a little vignette or their day every day for a month. Love it. Yes, it will be hard, but I am going for it. You should too! Here is a pre-SOL:

Have I ever written about my recent obsession with baths? Well, they are great. Love them. It started small, just using that old tub because it was there, but I soon learned that, well, baths are amazing. Why have I not been taking them my whole life? There is a wide chasm in my bath taking experience between my toddler years to, well, a few months ago. This whole bath taking thing, it only grew bigger and better, started with just warm water and a book, but now I go for the whole, full on, stuffed taco - candles, bath salts, classical music, a bath pillow even. Now hold on now, don't bang it before you try it. When people talk about baths being relaxing they are not kidding.

So this morning was one of those Saturdays when you wake up and it is snowing. 'nough said. Maybe I stayed in bed longer then needs to be mentioned, eating oreos and listening to this podcast (selected shorts) that I quite enjoy. There was a fairy tale, a parody of Rabunzel, on this episode (Wondrous Woman: E. Nesbit's Melisande), and honestly it was pretty great writing. So anywayz, to pull myself out of this snow-globe morning, I decided to take a bath. Candles, some poetry reading for school, and bath salts: my feet always burn when I first step into the water. The rest, is history, or that's what they say. Baths are the best. Go take one right now. But actually, the truth is, our bath tub is the worst; it steadily drained trickle by trickle during my relaxing dip, but no bath tub is perfect ya know, so don't judge, just take a bath.

This post is two-fold.

1. Have you ever played the whipped cream game? Perfect for silly freshman who should be studying or sleepovers or late night holidays. You spray a bit of whipped cream on your wrist then move one arm up toward the sky and use your other hand to stop the motion by hitting it. Whipped cream goes flying. While it is in the air, you try to catch it with your mouth. so fun.

2. This is one of my best friends, Carolyn Brown. She is currently serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (LDS church or Mormon church) in Dallas, Texas. Just want to say, she is an amazing missionary! I have been seriously impressed with her success and dedication to the work. I know it is because she is an instrument in God's hand helping bring truth and happiness to the people of Texas. So why do mormons go on missions? and why do I keep posting about the church? Basically, because it is true! The Gospel is true. Not only that, but it brings so much happiness and growth to my life. It is the answer to every life problem. What a wonderful secret that shouldn't be a secret. Everyone should know about it.

Whenever I check the stats for this blog, it tells me what posts are most popular and who sees them. The most popular post are always the posts about the church, especially this post here. It is consistently seen by people from all over the world. Do you know what this means? People really want to hear about the Gospel. I am so grateful for people like Carolyn and all other sorts of missionaries who are sharing the truth and helping people feel God's love.

Also, missionaries can leave at 18 now! (19 for girls.) What a wonderful blessing to everyone really.

First Day of School #newroomies