Classical Mystery Tour

The Classical Mystery Tour is dying to take you away.

On Saturday Wolfgang and I headed to they symphony. This is not unusual for us; we attend the symphony several around a half dozen times a year. This time, however, was unusual in the content.

A Beatles look alike group (Classical Mystery Tour) was featured with the symphony to give us an evening of Beatles music.

I LOVED it. Their sound was similar to Ringo, John, Paul, and George although their Ringo sang quite a bit more than the real Ringo sang in their day.

Wolf put up with me squealing, "I love this song!" every time a new song began to play and even seemed to enjoy himself. He was not raised on the Beatles as I was.

When it comes to tribute bands, Classical Mystery Tour is up there. They featured two songs that are not technically Beatles songs, but Live and Let Die as well as Imagine were played so beautifully that I did not mind.

Back to Elementary School

I week ago I posted that I had a bad case of food poisoning. Real bad. Like I threw up twice and my darling hubby cleaned it up for me and gave me a blessing bad. I love my Wolf.
Well, Monday rolled around and I was not having the best morning. I felt wretched. If it had been any other day I would have stayed in bed. Staying in bed is not an option when you have fifteen minutes to impress principals enough to hire you.
I got to school and thankfully my illness prohibited me from feeling nervous. My students helped put me at ease and my darling cohort friend, Brooke, even offered to drive us to the interview.
After locating where the nearest bathroom was to the interviewing rooms (just in case), we marched in the first room of principals and facilitators. Fifteen minutes went by and I felt calm and relaxed. No sick feelings for me! Room number two's fifteen minutes brought about queazy feelings. I held my stomach and prayed with all my might. I had already run an excuse with my friends I was interviewing with. In case of me needing to leave in a rush, they would tell the principals I just cared too much about the students and needed a minute. I love those girls.
I left the second room feeling relieved.
We chatted with our professors that had come to the interview. They told us we would receive a call that same day. If it was a 702 number, we were not supposed to answer it. It would be one of the professors telling us we were a no go and "it will just be better for us both if you do not answer."
Brooke and I lunched at Kneaders. Well, Brooke lunched and I nibbled on bread and sipped Sprite thinking to myself how happy Wolf was going to be because I was brining home a loaf of ciabatta.
We knew not to expect a call the rest of the time we were in the school, but I still checked on occasion. I was glad that my mentor teacher was teaching the rest of the day.
On my way to work, I called Wolf to tell him about how things were going. He offered to meet me at work for about an hour to make sure my mind was off the phone call I was going to receive later and to have someone to babble to. Wolf arrived at the office just after I did and sat patiently as I discussed the usual with my girls.
A customer called to ask questions about pettiskirts (who cares about pettiskirts at a time like this?) and I patiently told her the information she had already received. As I talked, I happened to look at my cell phone. Someone was calling me. It was an 801 number.
I froze.
"Hey, can I put you on hold for just a second?" Pretty, pretty please?
"Sure."
I put my thumb over the speaker of the work phone and picked up my cell.
"Hello?"
"Laura? This is Aaron Stevenson." I froze and seriously almost peed my pants. Aaron was my principal at Orchard.
He went on to offer me an intern position. The intern position that I wanted. The one that I dreamed about but did not think about too much for fear of not receiving it. 4th grade. My old elementary school. Everything was perfect.
Wolf was chuckling to himself a bit during the brief conversation I had with my future boss. I was dancing in place and could not stop smiling.
I hung up with Mr. Stevenson and then quickly finished my call with the customer.
"WOLF!"
"Yeah?"
"I got it! I'm at Orchard!"
"Yeah?"
"Fourth grade!"
I think I squealed a bit. Loud enough for my coworkers in the other room to hear.
How many people get to work their dream job? I think I am a pretty lucky girl.

Oh, and if you have any school supplies or books that you would like to donate, I will not say no.

The second worst day to be sick in April

What have you done to distract your body?
Today I woke up with that ever so familiar pain in my abdomen. Something I ate yesterday was fighting with my digestive system. Usually if I ignore it, it goes away within a couple hours. Wolf and I ate some German apple pancakes and settled down to watch conference. After being spiritually uplifted and feeling extra edified, I curled up in bed and consequently fell asleep. About 45 minutes after I dozed off, Wolf came to wake me up. I thought it was just a dream because I could have sworn he started to talk to me about the metric system. Strange. He told me that he came in, rubbed my back, and after I woke up, I turned on my stomach and would not look at him. Assuming I was upset with him, he left.
I got up and felt even worse than in the morning. We watched the last session of conference, I ate some Indian food, and got ready to head to my parents'.
Halfway across Orem, Wolf announced he wasn't feeling terribly well and would I mind if he sat this one out? Obvious concerned wife answer here.
Once at my childhood home, I began to feel worse. I only ate a bit of food and wanted to be curled up in my bed again.
I stayed for only a couple of hours and then my darling cousin Christine offered to take me home. She dropped me off at my adorable apartment complex and I scampered up to my apartment, very eager to get to where a toilet was. I rang the doorbell as I had not taken my keys. No answer. I knocked an annoying knock like you do when you are at someone's house you know very well. No answer. I called Wolf. He was just leaving Pleasant Grove.
Oh dear.
In my mind I was calculating how much time I had to stand there. 15-20 minutes. I was holding some clothes that I brought back from my dad's (about half of my shoe collection is still in my old bedroom). I started to get nervous. Something was not happy in my stomach and it wanted out. Rocking my body, I studied the door. I breathed through my mouth. Anything to keep my mind off of the explosion about to happen. I started to become aware that I might spew in front of my door. I know our next door neighbors relatively well, but how do you explain that you need to use their toilet to throw up because your husband was supposed to be home when you arrived but he had to leave and now you are locked out? I could tell they were not home anyways. I began to bounce a little more, trying to soothe my body. Where would I go that was close by where I could throw up?
Then the emotions began. I have always had a history of crying just before and just after I throw up. I prayed fervently that nobody would walk by before my husband arrived. Finally, just as I was deciding which piece of clothing I was least attached to so as not to get anything on the floor, I heard a car park in the parking lot and a very hurried person approaching the building.
It had to be.
If it wasn't, I would beg them to allow me to use their facilities.
Seeing Wolf rush up quickened the emotions. He opened the door and I rushed in, dumping everything on the floor and running into the bathroom.
I barely made it.
My darling husband cleaned up and fed me medicine. I am so thankful for him.
Lots of students I know of, when they get sick, they just want to be home with their mom or someone else taking care of them. The last time I remember my mother taking care of me when I was sick was when I was about 5 or 6 and I was bad enough that I was hallucinating. I have gotten used to being so independent that it feels nice to have someone take care of you when you are unwell.

Prayers and well wishes that I will get better by tomorrow are acceptable; I will be at the most nerve wracking interview of my life so far and I cannot let anything pull me down.

Tales of an Afternoon Recess

Today I had the honor of being one of the two adults supervising afternoon recess at my darling elementary school. It was a little strange. Children were running, dribbling, swinging, sliding, flirting, chasing, tumbling, flipping, spitting, tripping. You've seen that scene.
I turned into the mean teacher, telling boys to slide down the slide and not to climb up and push their friends off.
I wondered where I would be if I was ten years younger. My group of friends rotated what they did at recess every few weeks. We had basketball phases, tag phases, imaginary game phases, wrap around the pole phases, zip line phases, jumprope phases.
I watched three of my girls dominate in a 3 on 3 basketball game.
Later, one of my darling boys went in for a three-pointer. "This one's for you, Mrs. Jaeger!" He missed. Missed again. Swish!
The fifteen minutes seemed too short.

#

What does the # symbol mean to you?

At work I use it when communicating with our shipping company as a symbol for pounds.
Sometimes I use it on my phone.

On Monday it meant something new to me. Why?

I was sitting in the Covey Center for the Arts waiting for a concert to start. It was a concert my darling husband was performing in. I did not make it to a single one of his concerts last semester and I decided this semester would be different.
On the program, I got super excited when I saw the # symbol. Why? At the bottom of the program there was a key that announced "# indicates concertmaster."
At the top of the violin section was my husband's name.

# Wolfgang Jaeger

I was so proud of him as he did his solo walk across the stage to the applause of the audience. When he tuned the orchestra, I felt frustration at the rather large man who took his seat last minute immediately in front of me, causing me to only have view of far stage right and stage left. Even though I rarely could see my husband during his debut as concertmaster for the UVU chamber orchestra, I was still the proudest wife that I could be.

Craft for a Super Bowl Sunday

Yesterday I agreed to "do homework" with a friend from school. No, I am not quotation happy tonight. She told her husband that we were going to do homework so that she could work on a Valentine craft for him. We stopped at Hobby Lobby to grab some supplies for her and I picked up things that I needed including materials to make this lovely craft:

My favorite love quote. Thank you John Lennon.

Isn't it adorable? I got the idea from the Happy Scraps. Macey was able to work on an adorable present for her husband and I was able to start working on this last night. (Okay. I might have also worked on a present for my husband too, but since I know Wolf reads this blog on occasion, I cannot exactly post about that. Even though what I was working on is also adorable and can easily be altered into something you can make for students.)

The colors are a little funny in all the pictures. The red is a dark cranberry and the floral design for the O is more of a cream colored background.
I traced the letters onto scrapbook paper and then cut them out by hand. For the flags, hearts, and letters, I used my lovely Silhouette to cut them out and then used a red and white floss to string them together.
I probably should have worked more on unpacking instead of making this, but parts of your house can look cute while your living room has most your possessions boxed up, right?

Last night made me realize that I need to find more people to craft with! Please please please even if you are somewhat slightly interested in any type of crafting, call me. I want to do it with you.

Why I love My Husband

Once upon my birthday, my darling Wolf took work off so we could play in the afternoon and evening. He bought me the coolest machine ever which I fully plan on using as soon as I put our new place together. (Cake pops. Need I say more?)
We were both absolutely exhausted as two full time college students with 3/4 time jobs are bound to be partway through the semester. As we sat in bed (I basically live in my bed. I eat in bed, do homework in bed, craft in bed, etc. I know it is a bad habit and I am trying to get out of it.) he asked what I wanted to do that afternoon.
"I don't know. Maybe go out to dinner a little early to avoid the dinner rush and then hang out with Mik and Ange." I turned to look at him. He was sleeping. He fell asleep in the five seconds it took for me to answer his question.
I grabbed my phone and started to play games on it until he woke up ten minutes later.
"So did you decide what you want to do?"
"Well, dinner and then play with my sibs."
I watched him that time. He once again fell asleep before I could get out my shortened sentence. Am I really that boring soothing?
Twenty minutes later, he woke up. Again.
"What do you want to do on your birthday?"
I didn't answer him this time because I assumed he would be snoozing before I could abbreviate my plans to him. After several seconds, he startled me. "Well?"

Has anyone fell asleep during a conversation with you? Twice?

Birthdays past

It's my birthday! Go eat something sweet and listen to my favorite birthday song by the Beatles.
What are my big plans for today?
1. Go eat lunch with my bff Angi at the Pendulum Court. Sounds fancy? It's in the science center at BYU.
2. Get picked up by my darling husband from school.
3. Do something fun...yet to be determined.
4. Eat at Tucanos.
5. Do something else fun.
6. Possibly make cupcakes and eat a lot of them.

Sounds awesome? It makes me think about what I have done in the past for my birthdays. Curious? Sit down and enjoy. You can guess how old I was for each of these.
-One birthday, my siblings opened all my presents for me. I was quite capable of doing it, but they were just too excited to wait for my slow hands to tear off the paper.
- I had a friend birthday party with a dress up theme. All the little girls showed up as princesses except for my best friend Rachel. She came as a lion.
-My entire family went to the Utah Fun Dome (formally known as the 49th Street Galleria).
-My entire family went to see....the Lion King.
-I had a sleepover with my closest of friends.
-Two years in a row, I threw myself awesome parties. One year was Beatles themed and the other year was just a rocking party. (My brother still remembers how loudly and gross my friend Justin sang.)
-My family decided to throw a surprise party for me but I figured it out in the early stages of them planning it. I would like to apologize again to anyone I gave a hard time to because I knew what they were up to.
-Last but not least, my most memorable birthday. I threw myself a surprise party. I wrote about it eons ago here. (Don't judge me. It's not my best work.)

Cooking: A Dying Art Form

Okay, so cooking really is not a dying art form for lots of the world, but it has been for me ever since June 2, 2011. ("Wait! Isn't that when you got married?") How very observant of you.
Once upon a time, I got married to my handsome chef musician redhead prince and I stopped cooking. Mr. Handsome chef musician redhead prince was not only one of the best chefs west of the Mississippi, but he adored cooking. He will even cook me meat even though he is a vegetarian.
It made sense for Wolf to cook when we were first married. I was going to school and working, but he only had work. Once fall semester started, we were already in the habit of enjoying his gourmet meals so I have really only cooked five or six times (and that is being generous) until this weekend.
Following is my meandering monologue of how I came to cook as much as all the meals added together in the 7.5 months preceding this weekend.
On Tuesday my Wolf had a tickle in his throat but he still cooked for me.
By Thursday darling Wolf could tell the tickle was turning into something mightily nastier but he still cooked up dan dan noodles (try it; you won't be sorry), tres leche cake, and helped me make spring rolls for a dinner with my brother Mark and Jill.
Thursday evening poor Wolf collapsed.
Friday brought on a school-less day for Wolf, and by the time I got home from my day, we were both exhausted and opted for take out from our wonderful neighborhood Brick Oven.
Saturday arrived with Wolf feeling even worse and I was craving ATK's German Apple Pancakes (sorry, you have to be a member to see the link. Google it and you can find a recipe. That was an order. Google it and find that recipe.) I made it and we both were in heaven as we finished the entire batch in under five minutes. (I also burned my hand pretty badly, but that's another story.)

I heated up leftovers for the rest of my meals and begged Wolf to eat anything.
Fast forward to today.
I head off to church with my wonderful brother because my car doors are frozen shut (thank you Mark!)
As I get home, I am craving cupcakes like something bad. (Thank you Jill...)
Instead I go for Smitten Kitchen's homemade oreos.

They are amazing. Trust me. Try every single one of these recipes that I list. They are some of my favorites.
Dinner? ATK's Nut-Crusted Chicken Cutlets with oregano. It was easily the best crusted chicken I have ever eaten in my life.

I now feel like a successful housewife.
My house is clean, my husband is almost all the way better, and I have successfully created (or helped create) several delicious delicacies.

Oh, and if you want an oreo, I have several sitting on a plate in my kitchen. We still have some tres leche cake in the fridge and do not need this many sweets. Please. Take them off my hands.

I'm movin' out.

Billy Joel, how nice of you to describe it perfectly.
Just over a week ago, my husband got the call from our landlady. Because Wolfie promised to do a blog post about this, I will just say that we were told we had to move. in. less. than. 30. days.
I hate moving. Abhor it. I hate packing up everything, leaving nothing except a few memories and driving down the street to a new place. Then it takes a few days to unpack everything and remember where you unpacked everything.
Now I get the opportunity to move in the middle of a semester.
I have done that once before, but it was my single little self moving a few weeks into an easy semester. The move took all of four hours.
This time, it will be one month into a harder semester with more hours at work and more junk to move. Two little newlyweds can accumulate quite a bit of junk. Especially two little newlyweds that have more kitchen gadgets then you have in your kitchen. (I would almost be willing to make a bet on that. Unless you are a professional chef.)
My darling Wolf thinks it will only take a few hours.
I love his innocent optimism.
Where is it that we are moving? Back to my favorite city. O-Town. I love Orem. I love it more than I hate moving. I love that in some parts of it there will be two feet of snow but in another part, it will be bare. I love that it blooms at different times in the spring.
Where more specifically? Close enough to the mall that we can see it out of our gorgeous large windows in our living room and spare bedroom.
It makes sense; I have less than two months left at BYU, I work in AF, Wolfie works at the mall, and he has over a year left at UVU.
If you never visited me at my current place, you have just about two weeks left in which to do so.
Come visit me.
Come visit me any evening--except Friday--and entertain me while my husband is at work.