The week started off with preparation to celebrate Sinterklaas. Every year since before I can remember, we place one of our shoes outside our door with a carrot inside. Sinterklaas arrives on horseback to deliver small gifts to children who have been very good. Those who haven't been good little girls and boys are thrown into Swarte Pete's sack and taken back to Holland to work for a year. We place a carrot in our shoes for his horse. The next morning, we awake to a candy strewn floor and an ornament by each shoe. Some years, books and movies have been involved. It is never a large gift but it is a beloved tradition just the same. My mother always says, "The best gifts come in small packages."
Since the Hortins are unbelievably booked this season, we asked the old man to come a few days early. He was kind enough to oblige. The only problem we encountered was that the delicious candy was scattered on the morning of Fast Sunday; meaning: we had to gather it all up in a bowl and leave it for later that day. Some days we have stronger willpower than others. Luckily, Sunday was one of those days.
Sunday continued with the usual three hour block but for some reason I have the hardest time getting ready on time the first Sunday of every month. That and I have the hardest time focusing. Kiera gave a wonderful lesson on how we can rely on the Gospel and the Lord when we are working through hard times so I tried harder in Relief Society to be supportive. Finally, it was time for Break the Fast! Cleaning up the room always takes longer than we expect, so as a presidency we weren't able to feast upon the Hawaiian haystacks we had been smelling for hours until all the chicken was gone. Surprisingly, pineapple cubes and pineapple juice taste pretty good on rice. But then, pineapple tastes pretty good on anything. (except pizza, but that's another story for another day.) The Sunday was lovely, especially when a certain someone made an effort to come and talk to me. *Sigh (I may have just completely embarrassed myself if he happens to ever read this blog. For the time being, I think I'm okay.)
Monday brought with it the celebration of my dear mother's birthday. Her birthday is actually on the sixth of December, but remember that the Hortins are popular people in December? That being so, we celebrated with presents, dinner and cake a day early. Mom chose to go to Texas Roadhouse for dinner but we were under strict directions not to mention her birthday to anyone that worked there. The last thing Mom wanted was to have to sit on a saddle while the entire restaurant yells, "Yeehaw!" We ate ourselves silly, and then went home for cake. The cake was my birthday gift. I had a choir rehearsal (details still coming) and stopped by the catering office at the Joe to order a Chocolate Mint Torte. Believe me, it is even better than it sounds. To finish our celebrating, Dad put up the tree, we started to decorate, and then went downstairs to watch Castle together.
Tuesday was a day I will not soon forget. It was officially my mother's birthday, and it was the performance for the choir I have been mentioning the last few posts. It deserves its own post because it was just that fantastic! Still, here is a teaser: I sang for the prophet! Told you it was something special...
Wednesday brought with it a visit to the Forgotten Carols! I love the Forgotten Carols! I sang in the choir my junior and senior years of high school, but this year, it was my little sisters' turns. Melanie sang last year or the year before but this year was the first for Carrie. They did a wonderful job and they had a wonderful time. I still prefer the story when it was mostly narrated by Michael McLean, but it's still good. We stayed after the performance to stand in line for the cast's autographs to document this special year. I love the music, but I wish Connie Lou was still played by Katie Thompson. She is a power house! One day, I would love to be able to sing like her. (I know, right?!)
Thursday started very early in the morning as I drove down to Provo to go to the temple with Ao. It was early and dark and a long, lonely drive, but I wouldn't trade any minute I spent there with her for anything. I have much to learn from this wonderful girl. I hope that I can be as great an example to anyone as she has already been to me. Sadly, I'm getting old. I doubt another girl that walked in after us was over twenty. But then again, we were in Provo...
The day wasn't complete without a trip up to Carden Memorial and a visit to my dearest friend, Pixel. We shared thirty minutes that flew by way too fast. Still, I had the grandest time. I love that girl!!!!!!!!
Strangely enough, that night the Church of Scientology came for their Awards Dinner to the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. I was working with my friends, Bryan and Christian, and Nicolee, who was experiencing her first day. The entire time, we kept asking ourselves, "Do they know where they are? Don't they know they are in the JOSEPH SMITH Memorial Building???" They chose the Wasatch Room with no view of the temple, so I suppose they may have forgotten. It was something. The room smelled thickly of cigarette smoke, incense, and something I couldn't really put my finger on. I was almost positive that Tom Cruise was going to come waltzing through the front door, but to no avail.
The best part of the night was after the smelly scientologists left the building. Bryan, Christian, Nicolee, and I grabbed cups, gathered around the alcove and drank some hot apple cider with caramel sauce and whipped cream. The fun escalated into a small food fight where the guys got the better of me. By the end, I had whipped cream covering my back and chocolate mousse covering my face. Sometimes we go a little a crazy to maintain our sanity. I really am mature. Promise. The weekend was another bunch of serving functions with good friends and a certain young man that kept me smiling. I was lucky enough to not work a double but life remained as busy as ever.
I never knew I could fit so many things into 24 hours until we entered into December. I surprised even myself.
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