Ijsmanneke, I love you!

The past few weeks I have seen commercials for these little beauties.

Seeing this stateside reminds of being a missionary in Belgium. Magnum's are the elite of ice cream bars. If we were having a bad day, or a good day, or an indifferent day (any excuse would do) our little household in Belgium would find a reason to purchase one of these beauties. But, the other magnificent part of Belgium was Ijsmanneke (translated to Little Ice Cream Man). Every evening the tinkling, melodious sounds of Ijsmanneke rang through the streets, and I felt bound to shout out "Ijsmanneke, I LOVE YOU!" I truly did. He brought the Magnum bars, and other delectable ice cream dishes directly in front of the house. I found this picture to show the excitement of Ijsmanneke.

The entry from my mission "scrapbook" has this tag line, "Summers in Belgium brought the ice cream man, taunting me every evening with his little chime to

come and buy his wares. Some nights we had to obey! Ijs mannkeke is my favourite man in all of Belgium."

I recall one day, when my companion and I were both sick. It happened to be preparation day, and when it came time to leave for the evening, neither of us could move. We decided to make some phone calls and do other planning and try to get better. It was a good thing we decided this, for about 10 minutes after the other sisters left the apartment,

the elders called and told us we had to stay home, because there were riots in downtown Antwerpen. Recall that the other sisters JUST left and wouldn't be home until late at night. At the time, we hoped that they would be able to get to a members house before public transportation shut down and could take them home.

Later that evening, the sisters called, stuck in the riot because public transportation had shut down. I took their information, was able to call the elders, relay where the sisters were located and sent the cavalry to rescue my sisters in need. Now, recall that I LOVE Ijsmanneke. When I get sick I crave ice cream. That cold creaminess coating my inflamed throat is a great feeling. I was in want of Ijsmanneke. And this is the part I am not proud of. But I heard that jingle and convinced Zr. Sharp that we needed ice cream. She agreed. Unbeknownst to us, the sisters had called while purchasing the "medicine" to say the location was no longer safe. However, we didn't have an answering machine and missed the call. For the rest of the evening I played phone tag between the sisters and elders and tried to get them both in the same location. The sisters didn't get home until close to 1 am. I still hang my head in shame for the need of the ice cream on a night that was fraught with danger (to the sisters in the riot, not my throat).

So what does all of the have to do with Magnum bars. Well, first, I hope you enjoyed my embarrassing moment. Second, I have been sick for the past 2 weeks, and I ate a Magnum.

Bliss. :)

Big Wheel Keep on Turnin'

As promised, a blog post on India. Before leaving for India our class was told that we would be participated in Culture Night. The students at Lady Doak College in India would be performing some native dances from the area and it was expected that we do perform something native to our culture. What is native to American culture? I suggested that we bake an apple pie and run a few football blitzes. I think what is hard for other countries to understand about America is that we are really a conglomeration of other cultures. When you have a random group of 12 people, what is "culture" for one person is not "culture" for another. For example, one member of the group did not want to sing or dance. She felt it was too much like a 4th grade elementary school concert. After much deliberation, our culture came together.

Now, when I left on this trip to India I decided I wanted to try and go outside of my comfort zone. We wanted to sing a song, but not too many people in the group were willing to sing. I know I have a passable voice, and I needed to step outside my comfort zone and so I agreed to sing. Eventually we decided upon "Proud Mary" the Tina Turner version. Contrary to popular belief, I do not enjoy being in the spotlight or performing in front of strangers. But I put my best foot forward and performed.


Before going out on stage I think I ate about 4 pounds of sugar out of nervousness. Then I decided it was time to either go big or go home. If my friend Andreya was there she would say to just cut loose and give in to my inner diva. Notice the classy touch of lyrics in my hand.

After singing Proud Mary we did a few steps of the Cha-Cha slide. Because what is more American than a song that tells you what steps to take. We brought down the house.


To answer your lingering questions, yes there is a video of this performance. No, you may not see it.

Update: Thankgsiving

Hello friends. I realize it has been a few months since the last post. I was really waiting for something post-worthy. Then, I forgot and then I went to India. For those of you expecting a post on India, I just have to say stay tuned. It's coming.

Do any of you have to travel anywhere for this wondrous holiday? I do. To Boise, Idaho to be exact (well, to be even more precise, Meridian). Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. A day devoted to family, food and napping. Could there be anything better? I am beginning to re-think this "going home" for Thanksgiving though. My parents really just use my brothers and I for slave labor now. I think the price of the meal now is having to set up the Christmas decorations.

Inside the house my mom has well over 50 nativity sets that have to be set up. Since my mom is very particular about where each set goes and how the figures are arranged I try to put myself on the outside light and giant nativity set duty. This year, however, I almost regretted that decision.

In the front of my parent's house during the Christmas season sits a giant nativity set. It takes 2-3 people to set up and must be done in a specific order....OR ELSE. Here is me dad "supervising" the set up.

To be fair, he did just have knee replacement surgery a few weeks before Thanksgiving. The next day at church one of the members asked me if all my dad does is sit in a lawn chair in the middle of the street and give directions. I responded with a hearty "yes."

Mid-way in assembly. Notice the snow on the ground. What you can't see is the freezing wind and the holes in the bottom of my shoes as my feet get wetter and I get crankier. It was worth it in the end for this is the final result.



But the real piece de resistance of the Christmas light extravaganza really belongs to the 12 foot pine tree on the corner of my parent's house. That was the worst. The tree sits on an incline, so you can't put a ladder against the side of tree. The only way to get the lights around the tree is basically for me to stand at a distance and hurl the lights to the top of the tree. Proceed to hurl, chuck, mightily toss as you circle the tree. I am really good at this. Mostly because I had to do it 3 times the previous year. The lights got up the first time, only to discover that the top 2 strands were out. Took those down, replaced. Re-stranded, noticed different strands were out. Replaced strands again and then did the final toss. This year I learned my lesson. I checked the lights BEFORE having to do my epic throwing (and in case you are wondering, other family members tried. With much less accuracy). The lights were arranged. We flipped the switch. And the top two strands were out. Again.

Remember the snow on the ground, and the wind, and the fact that my boots were not exactly waterproof and had holes in the bottom of them. It was also getting darker, and my brothers and I had already spent the majority of the day putting up lights and nativity sets outside. My cranky level was at an all-time high. So I stormed in the house and demanded my mother to make a decision. If she wanted us to get new lights and re-strand it was a possibility. I was not shy in letting it be known that if we could skip the tree this year, I would not be opposed. She listened and said we could take the lights down, and to be sure to get rid of the burnt out lights.

Mark (younger brother) and I went outside. As I thought of a way to try and put strands on the bushes around the tree Mark makes this suggestion: "Wouldn't it be cool to put a giant L in the tree, you know, for Lamborn." Ummm, yes that would be the greatest way to salvage my cranky mood, and whatever strange idea Mark offers I make sure happens. This little beauty came into existence. Our L stayed all Christmas season. We made sure to make a loopy L for all to see. It was the least we could do to brighten up the family homestead.

Remember I am Athlete!

I have recently found myself getting to use a new title. The title of athlete. Anyone who has ever spend time with me should know how foreign this word is in my vocabulary. However, last August (2009) two of my good friends from grad school decided it would be a good idea to start running. After laughing in their faces, I decided to try this new endeavor. Having recently finished graduate school I was looking for a new challenge in life. Charisse and I would run first thing in the morning at the slowest pace possible. We had a very slow running schedule that had us running for a minute and then walking for 2 minutes. Slowly but surely the time for running was increased. My first race was a 5K run in October 2009. Here is proof:



In December 2009 my BBF, Bekah, asked if I would be willing to train for a triathlon with her. After laughing in her face I tested the training waters. Starting in January I found myself in a bathing suit re-learning how to swim a long distance at the university pool, biking at the gym and running when I could. Unfortunately, the training also coincided with this:



I almost stopped training because I love the Winter Olympics so much. But my love of the Winter Olympics could be an entire other post. However, I persevered. In March 2010 I swam 300 meters, biked 12 miles and ran 3 miles. My final time was 1 hour 24 minutes. Here we are at the beginning of the race:




After that little endeavor my stake Relief Society President heard about how I and a few other sisters in the stake were participating in various triathlons. She decided that our stake would participate in one as well. Here is a photo of me swimming. I thought I had other pictures as proof, but alas no one has shared them with me.



Which leads me to my final thoughts on my new found athleticism . Bekah decided last summer that we should run a half marathon together. Can you see how easily I am persuaded by others. I really think Bekah is just trying to show me the wonderfulness of Utah and convince me to move there. Really, who continues to travel to Utah to put themselves through physical torture. After the half marathon.... I am not so sure.... Let's just say the very beginning and the very end of the day were awful.

The first five miles of the race is strictly downhill. You start at an elevation of about 7,000 feet and end just under 5,000 feet. Since the race was on October 30th, costumes were encouraged. Bekah and I chose AWESOME costumes. I was a "spelling" bee and she was a "thesaurus" rex. I taped winning words from past spelling bees on my shirt and we used different synonyms on Bekah's sweatshirt. After being in the freezing cold the race finally started. We started at a nice easy pace and started a wonderful conversation. Then tragedy struck at mile 1.5. Bekah stumbled and sprained her ankle and was unable to finish the race. We waited until some cars from the race came down the mountain and a very nice woman took Bekah to the finish line.

So I was on my own. I ran in Bekah's honour. The run was beautiful. I had lots of good thoughts and saw many cool costumes. I had to make one stop for a bathroom (and wait forever while a group of Goofy's went first) and then I was on my way again. The last 3 miles were pretty hard, but I made it!!!!!!!! Final time 2 hours 25 minutes. I'll take it.



I had to wait around for awhile to try and find Bekah and Linnley. Then we had to wait forever to get the bus back to our car. We chatted with people in line and I felt great. But then, tragedy struck again. As we were standing there (after about 40 minutes) I started to feel a bit lightheaded. Which for me, really isn't anything unusual. It happens sometimes. Typically if I stand still for a second I can recover. However, this time my typical plan was not working. So I put my hand on Bekah's shoulder for balance. Then I remembered that I probably shouldn't expect the girl with sprained ankle to be my support. So I switched to Linnley. As I was standing there my vision started to go a little darker. Then I heard Bekah ask if I was feeling okay, because I was looking a bit flushed. I said my vision was going darker, and Linnley started to say I should sit down. The people next to us said the same thing, so I started to sit down...and then I passed out.



Woops. Guess I didn't put enough sugar in me, even though I ate about 1400 orange slices after the races. I heard people asking me the last time I ate, and a bunch of faces hovering over me. Luckily, Linnley is a runner and had a spare goo in her pocket. She lifted my head up and put goo and some water in me, and I started to feel better. A nice man behind us put my feet up for a few minutes to get my blood re-circulating. Another guy walked by, saw how pale I was and said "you look like you need real food. Here is a granola bar. And some fruit snacks." And then he walked away. As my mother would say, guardian angels were looking out for me. Needless to say, if I ever run another half marathon again I shall now to forget my pride and eat at least 15oo orange slices :)

A very "special" education

I love education. I know that in the past I have complained much of actually having to do things like go to class and do homework, but in all honesty, my heart lies in higher education. Throughout history you can start to see what education can do to bring people out of poverty and empower them to make changes in their lives and in the communities they live in.

Staying away from the classroom is also something I have yet been able to do. When I graduated from Western Washington University in 2004 I swore I would never step back into a classroom.


Humble pie is what I ate when I graduated from Portland State University with a graduate degree in 2009. Friends can attest to the fact that all schooling really cuts into my socializing and television watching time. Living in Bellingham I used to complain that everyone was having fun without me while I toiled away writing papers and other such nonsense. I felt the same way when going back to grad school. Yet I feel compelled to go back. I get excited when learning new ideas and theories. My mind starts to race with possibilities and I feel gratification when I can put into practice book-learning in the real world. Every time I have graduated it is with a sense of euphoria and gladness that I no longer have to spend long hours pouring over research articles and drafting long soliloquies and reflections.

Yet despite all that I made a decision about a week ago to back again. No, not to get a doctorate (that's crazy talk.... but let's shelve that thought and I'm sure it will come back again). When I told one friend about this decision her exact words were "Are you crazy?????? You hate school remember?" Thanks for that vote of confidence. But it's just one class. It can't be that bad...


But I do find myself back in school again. This time to get a graduate certificate in Service-learning and Community-based learning. Quite a mouthful, right? My friend Charisse and I are doing this together. Charisse and I will see much of each other for the term. We are also co-teaching a freshman year experience course together, commuting once a week to Portland and getting into other mischief along the way. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Just remind me of that when I have to stay in and read articles and actually do my homework.

Creation, Dawning, Initiation, Introduction, Origin, Source or Blog One

Greetings friends, strangers and acquaintances. If you are reading this you are officially lurking through the internet to read these thoughts. Congratulations. I commend your fortitude.

For months (years?) I have thought about starting a blog. The reasons for not starting a blog are many...I have lived in several different cities and have good friends in each city and I like to keep track of them via the wonderful invention of the internet. I can see photo's of a good friend from college new baby or read recipes from complete strangers. By comparison, I am a single lady (waiting for someone to put a ring on it) and fear that no one would want to hear the thoughts and adventures of my simple life. However, through the urging of friends I have bit the proverbial bullet and begun. The blog is still under construction, but here we all are, for blog post number one. The pressure for the first post is incredible. Its like reading the first 5 pages of a new book. I have only this moment to hook you, and leave you wanting to know more about me and the crazy, wonderful life I lead. Well, friends, strangers and mere acquaintances I want to share something VERY important with you.



I found this little gem of a vending machine near my parents house in Boise, Idaho (don't worry, we'll devote entire postings to the randomness of Boise). There are so many questions involved with a "Live Bait" vending machine. Who puts in the bait? How frequently is the bait switched? What happens if you put in your dollar for a night crawler and its dead? Who replaces the bait? What is the optimal refrigeration for live bait? Who puts the bait in and what is the supply and demand of the field? When you saw this picture did you also envision young children selling worms dug up from the backyard just like me. The possibilities really are endless. Don't stay up too late thinking of new questions, my brain is still tired of thinking about this vending machine.