So I have had this blog for almost a month now! I remember when my room mates and I set this up for myself. That seems like just last week. Time has flown by since the winter semester ended. One thing I must promise is that I will blog more often. This whole blogging now and then waiting three weeks for something interesting to happen is for the birds!!

    Throughout my life I have both said and done some pretty funny things. Any moment of my senior year of high school can attest to that. However tonight I believe I have topped them all. One thing I love about my family is how ready to serve everyone is. My mother jumps at the chance to deliver a lasagna to a sick mother, my father talks to EVERY single person he sees (that is why we can never take him to cities bigger than 50,000 people), and my brother drives all over creation Sunday mornings picking people up for church. A few weeks ago we found out that members in our ward, for whatever reason, were having issues feeding the missionaries. They have taken two years out of their lives to go to a place in rural, corn ridden, mid-America and share the glad message with all kinds of people, yet we are having issues giving them a piece of bread. Really?  Well my mother would not be having that so we decided to sign up every week to feed the missionaries. We live over the river and through the woods away from the church, though, and because of mileage restrictions they can only visit us once every few months. This just got my mother planning. We finally established a seemingly fool proof plan. 1)She would cook the meal (making sure to add that side dish of pure love) 2)Before I went to work in the morning I would drop the meal off in a properly marked bag in the church kitchen 3)At the Elder's earliest convenience they would drive to the church and eat their meal. 4)Repeat.

     Today began on step two. Before my mother left to go to work she left a very detailed note containing a full menu of what was to be put in the Missionary Bag. On the note she had written that everything I needed could be found on the second shelf of the refrigerator. I was in a rush, though, so I just really payed attention to that part. I walke out of the door laughing because mother had also told me that everything would fit nicely into their bag and that she felt guilty for not giving them more. From the way I saw it she had cooked more their dinner than I had myself while away at college for NINE MONTHS. Everything was set in place and I even made it to work on time. Now it was up to them to put step three into action.

       My mother got home late this evening. When I asked if she wanted something to eat she simply said that she wanted some left over ribs from the night before (undoubtedly her best recipe for that kind of meat). At that point my father came in he room, "I looked, but I did not see any ribs at lunch." Everyone looked at Todd, "I did not eat all the ribs. There was enough for at least four people!" Look at Samm the Dog. No he did not eat them, he has no thumbs. Look at me, "I did not eat them. I do not eat pure meat (a fact my mother will never remember)." "Did you give them to the missionaries?" Sure enough, the Pekin Ward missionaries will not go hungry. After taking inventory, it is hard telling what the missionaries thought as they opened the bag. Fajitas, ribs, bean salad, chips, salsa, Texas Cake. I think they are good for awhile. After taking inventory the only other things missing from our refrigerator is a jar of pickles and some celery. Moral of the story: when your mother tells you that the food is on the second shelf, pay attention. SHE DOES NOT MEAN THE WHOLE SHELF!