It’s Friday, I’m in Love!: Vanilla Honey Bee Ice-Cream

When I was a little girl, my mom was a health-nut. At least outwardly she was a health-nut. I think she’s secretly had a bag of m&m’s and a pack of Necco’s in her purse since 1960, even when she was grinding wheat and meat and telling people not to give her kids candy.

The health-nut phase only lasted a few years, but the damage had been done. By the age of five, I found myself in the midst of a love affair … the kind of love affair most children have with lollipops and cookies. But I knew nothing of sugar. All I knew was that every morning my dad gave me a bowl of Cheerios and I’d watch, wide-eyed with hungry anticipation, as he drizzled a spoonful of golden sweetness on top. Honey, I was certain, was where it was at.

In a house devoid of ice-creams and cakes, honey seemed decadent. It seemed too good to be true. It was all I knew of the saccharine side of life. And I loved it. Oh, did I love it. Like little children who steal cookies from the cookie jar every time mother leaves the kitchen, I took advantage of every private moment with that plastic honey bear who sat on top of the fridge and held a world of salivary bliss in his round little belly.

In fact I can clearly see myself around the age of 7, casually getting up from a family night with the Cosby’s, to go to the “bathroom,” and sneaking my way to the kitchen, only to climb on a chair to retrieve the honey bear, wedging myself in between the fridge and counter (so no one would me see of course), and guzzling the honey. I probably squeezed half the jar into my mouth.

So of course, when Haagan-Dazs, decided to create an ice-cream flavor solely dedicated to this most delicious nectar, I was first in line to buy my pint, along with an extra honey bear for drizzling on top. (Like I said, mom’s heath-nut phase only lasted so long and we Maurer girls have since been well-educated on the merits of refined sugar and high-fructose corn syrup.)

Well, here I am. Multiple pints later and I must say … I feel like I’m 7 again, sneaking something that tastes too delicious to be good for you. Yep that’s right. I am certain this pint of Haagan-Dazs Vanilla Honey Bee I’m eating is good for me. For two reasons. #1. It’s made with honey. Honey is good for you. It is. Really. And #2. For every pint I buy, Haagan-Dazs donates money to fund research to protect disappearing bee populations.

Disappearing bee populations?! You’re telling me there could be a day when there might not be any more honey?! That can’t happen! I love honey! I could drink honey! I do drink honey! And so I commit: I will buy as much Haagan-Dazs Vanilla Honey Bee ice-cream as I need to. If I have to eat a pint a day. I will do it. I will do it for the bees. You have my word.

Tell me: Do you have a sweet tooth? If so, what’s your pleasure?

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Sometimes I Am SO Smart …

… and sometimes I am SO not. You know when the Olympic swimmers are on the starting blocks and NBC posts their name and a picture of their country’s flag in each lane so you know where everyone is? Yeah. I actually, and honestly, and seriously turned to my roommate and said, “Oh that’s cool. How do they get those on the bottom of the pool?”

Yep. I really asked that.

She looked at me like, “For real?”

Tell me: About your “smartest” moment?

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Living in my Haystack

I have not been here in a while. I’ve been lost in my haystack* (and REALLY exhausted). But … there ARE some things I need to catch up on. Things that have killed me with delight. Things that are ordinary, common, and very drab — the daily presentations … the prayers that are made out of grass.

Two Tuesdays ago, I had a weird and wonderful experience as God unexpectedly led me to the temple one night. While there, I waited in the chapel for the next session. I sat alone. Contentedly alone. And in walked 4 ladies. Wrinkled and age-spotted and lovely. No husbands. Just friends. That in an of itself made me smile. But the conversations that then unfolded … well those were moments I feel privileged to have witnessed. They sat in the row in front of me and one leaned to the other. “Your terrible visiting teacher missed you again this month.” “Oh that’s ok,” was the reply. “Well, I keep thinking life will slow down one of these days. I still have a gift for you from last month.” Foreheads rested together. Smiles and giggles, yes giggles, were exchanged and all I could think was, “she’s waiting for life to slow down? She’s in her 70s! Oh I’m in for it. That’s my line and I’ve been using it for years as it is.”

As I smiled at these little ladies and their “undone” visiting teaching, the woman sitting next to me leaned forward and tapped another of the four on the shoulder. “Your hair is beautiful,” she said. And it was. It was gorgeous white. All of it. And soft like snow. “Is it natural?” she continued. The wrinkled eyes smiled and she laughed, almost as if she were an unsure 16-year-old and someone had just told her she was pretty. “Oh yes. I grew every one of them myself.”

Later in the session, as I tried to figure out why I was led there on this unassuming night, there came an opportunity, almost missed. But with a tear, a stranger’s unknown need, and a simple touch, I found my why. And I couldn’t have been more humbled by it.

On so many levels, it was a perfect night. A perfect little window of life that I got to steal glances into. Nothing seemingly grand. Nothing of seeming world import. But moments, and experiences, and conversations made up of the things that, at their core, are the most grand and the most important. I love living in this haystack.

*My favorite poem is Mindful by Mary Oliver (my favorite poet):

Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for -
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world -
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant -
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these -
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

Tell me: What have you been experiencing in your haystack?

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