part 11 of 364

Things that keep Melissa alive

Part 11: Poached Eggs, a food of the gods

Few foods comfort me as much as poached eggs. That's why monday was a comfortless day. Due to my milk disappearing trick, I had to resort to cold cereal that day. Cold cereal is just that: cold. Comfort had to be put off until last night when I brought out the frying pan once again and settled in, unmoved, to watch my pot of milk take forever (of course) to boil. But, it was all worth it. When the eggs were finally done (20 minutes later) I had myself some soft, warm, eggy, buttery, toasty goodness.

For the record: I have never had an egg poached in just water. Does that seem bland to anyone else? Growing up, our eggs were always poached in either milk or tomato soup. Then when you lay your eggs on toast, you can drizzle milk or tomato soup over it all to soften the toast and make it even more divine. Imagine drizzling water on your toast? Not comforting.

Another interesting poached egg note: I don't think I know anyone my age that actually eats them... and most haven't even tried one! Am I right? I find my only poached allies (not that the allies are boiled in liquid..) are my old lady friends at the temple. They have given me good tips about poaching and, in return, I have seen their eyebrows raise at the suggestion of a milk or tomato soup poached egg.

I believe poached eggs are a food of the gods. Other foods of the gods include:

• Avacados
• Peanut sauce
• Boef bourguignon
• Butter
• Peaches and Cream
• Cheese
• Limes

I tried to keep this a list of classy foods (because would gods really eat twinkies?) but these are not the only foods I like. Just the less processed, more pure ones. What are your foods of the gods?

my particular set of skills

On friday, I watched Taken. A movie where, at one point, Liam Neeson says: "I have a very particular set of skills." Those skills seem to be killing everyone with the slightest flick of his wrist. But, for the record, I think he also has voice skills.

btw, I'm practicing falling in love with older men... don't you think he's kind of hot?

This made me think: What kind of skills do I have? Are my skills particular, as well? Or are they just peculiar?

Here are the skills that I tallied up from just this weekend's events:

• Intense movie watching skills. Somehow, I was able to watch Taken without feeling stressed or having nightmares about my upcoming trip to South Africa - So I might get kidnapped and thrown into a prostitution ring...so what?
• Snowshoeing skills. I was the only one in our group of about 12 that kept gracefully tripping on her snowshoes... Why won't any of those guys call me?
• Crying skills. This has been happening for a while: If I'm visiting teaching, we can be talking about nothing (seriously..movies, sports...nothing) and my eyes will water up. I'm sure this is confusing to those I visit teach and I blame it on my weird sinuses.
• Looking like a fool while conducting relief society skills. Seriously. Can't I just keep my fat mouth shut and conduct the meeting like a normal RS president?
• Milk disappearing skills. This happened just this morning. I decided to poach an egg and so I put some milk in a small frying pan and put a lid on it on the stove to heat. I went downstairs to put lotion on my face for 2 minutes. When I came back up and lifted up the lid to the pan, every last drop of that milk was gone. I later discovered it transplanted underneath all the burners. I'm magic! Also, my magic smells like scorched milk.
  

find my ken in 2010

Ok, let me preface this with a caveat: I'm not talking about my brother Ken. He is a good (perfect?) guy, but I really shouldn't marry my brother. This post is about Marriage. Or my lack of it, more specifically.

I realized a while ago that even though my blog is titled "I saw the elephant" (referring to the elephant in the room) I never really talk too much about the elephants in my life. Let's face it, you probably like it that way. Well, lately I've felt how much my lack of marriage is an elephant in my life and it's time to talk about it. Today is the day. I apologize in advance.

You probably think that I've given up on marriage with how much it doesn't come up in my blog. No. Believe me, it's always there.

When I say I'm looking for my Ken, I really do mean a guy with helmet hair and skin colored underwear. Don't forget the chiseled abs and perfect calves. Also, his arms should only bend to 90 degrees angles making it impossible for his hand to ever reach his mouth (how does he eat!). Here's the problem: I don't think this guy exists.

So...am I really looking for someone TOO perfect? Can I enlist your help to find him?

Here are some things to help you recognize him when he crosses your path:

• He will be my age or younger. Younger is nice because (I will say it over and over again) I want to die first. None of this being the one left alonely while the other is converting thousands at a time up in the spirit world.
• He will have a big nose and minuscule chin.
• He will be strong in his testimony. Is that too much to ask (I really am starting to wonder)?
• He will carry on the Cox male tradition of self-deprecation and constant devotion.
• He will be as clever as me; no more, no less. (I shouldn't ask for more than I can give)
  
• It would be nice if he wore houndstooth polyester slacks every once in a while.

If you see this Ken, send him my way! (bonus points if his name is actually ken)