Reason no. 1

Dear Dallin,
This is what started it all.

It was summer. It was Georgia. It was the Paget's living room. It was a little crazy. It was me dancing like a wild monkey with hyper children. And it was you making a violin sing. It was magical. It was an all new Dallin that I hadn't noticed before. And in that moment I think I feel in love. How I love to hear you play! Keep that magic alive. Your violin playing was then, and remains for me now, my reason number one.

Love always, Liezel

Gluten-free goddess (in training)

I have goddess envy--gluten-free goddess envy. I am a stalker of this blog http://glutenfreegoddess.blogspot.com/ and just don't seem to have her touch. This goddess posts a plethora of amazing gluten-free recipes in twenty different categories with gorgeous finished product pictures, yet try as I might my gluten-free baking always falls a little short of her high standard (no pun intended). Perhaps she will take an apprentice? Gluten-free baker certification might look nice on a resume.
Currently, I have more failures than successes. Like my gluten-free pumpkin muffins, which had nice texture, but the taste was questionable. Or my gluten-free quinoa peanut butter cookies--amazing taste, but required a five minute soaking in almond milk in order to be edible. My bread machine recipe for gluten-free bread is at about 85% satisfaction, good taste, texture is still a little heavy. And then there was the lemon poppy seed muffins that weren't even fit as food for the ducks.
Amongst all my hockey pucks and door stops of baked goods, though, there has been one overwhelming success. The gluten-free banana bread I made was spectacular (if you can handle that it didn't get a nice rise in the center of the loaf like its gluten counterparts.) The texture and taste (together at the same time!) were perfect. It was moist, it held together, you didn't gag on it trying to chew or swallow, it wasn't so thick that it got stuck in your throat half way down, and our apartment smelled like a banana paradise while it was baking.
Dallin, gem that he is, though, thinks everything I create is wonderful--except for the lemon poppy seed disaster, we were in mutual disdain over that one. His approval of my efforts is always good motivation to keep at it. I also refuse to be beaten by millet flour, potato starch, or xanthum gum. I will triumph, I will, I will.
Actually though, my real impetus for all these hours of what sometimes seems fruitless labors is about love. This is all for the "fatten-Dallin-up-while-being-easy-on-his-system" campaign. If I can have a success every once in a while and know that it is helping him, it is all worth it.

Summer Is...

wearing flip flops. eating watermelon. picnics under a perfect sky. carefree. spontaneous. relaxing.

Summer is also ice cream, frozen yogurt, and popsicles. What is it about ice cream that is so memorable? Why is the recollection of frozen sweetness from bygone days so delectably enduring? Perhaps we have brain triggers for pleasure that are distinctively aligned on our cold-treats-in-sultry-weather experiences. I certainly have a healthy collection of them: Homemade lemonade popsicles in the freeze-it-yourself tray on the back porch by the marigolds in Omaha, age five. Pralines and cream BlueBell ice cream direct from the source in Brenham, Texas eaten in a field of bluebonnets and indian paintbrushes, age eight. Mint chocolate chip ice cream cones from the Randall's grocery store, age nine. Dad's blender-made orange julius smoothies for a family home evening treat, age eleven. T.C.B.Y's white chocolate mousse and raspberry swirl in a waffle cone as a reward for good grades, age thirteen. And Coldstone with Sarah and Nikki and Lina. And Baskin Robbins with Julia and Kira. And Brusters with Jenni and Mia. And Blue Bunny with Mom and Lauren. And Ben & Jerry's with Katie. And homemade creations with Dallin in our own ice cream maker. Hoorah for summer!

Home-making

So it's not a temple landscape and it's not a real yard, but friends and neighbors, Liezel has a bit of earth! Here's to colorful Colorado and more green-thumbing in my new home. Here's to that wonderful process of planting, tending, maintaining, and patiently waiting for the fruit. A good reminder of what a wonderful marriage takes--consistent tending and joy all through the process.

Eternal Convergence

These pictures were in our wedding reception slide show and inspired a blog idea. Dallin and I were both roughly six months old and progressing equally along a normal developmental pattern. As we grew, though, we slowly diverged in our development pace, personal interests, and skills. About three weeks ago we created an eternal kind of reconnection in our earthly development. Marriage is the reconnecting point, or at least the beginning of a convergence. As we were dating I was amazed by our similar interests and now as a married couple continue to be amazed by the connection points that we have and are discovering. What a beautiful thing to find your eternal companion and have mutually enriching couple development on so many levels. I am grateful for my Dallin and his gentle heart. I am grateful for his generous, considerate attention. I am grateful for his homemade breakfast every morning. I am grateful for his good mornings. I am grateful for his kisses goodnight. I am grateful for being able to hold his hand for always. I am grateful for our growth time together. I am grateful for this sweet and rewarding relationship that creates unity. I am grateful for temple marriage as ordained by God.