Grown-up Tastes

I've noticed a few things about myself over the past few years. Somehow, without noticing, I turned into a grown-up.
It all started with the cheese.
At some point in college, I found myself liking fancy cheese. No, not the special flavours of cheesestrings, but the really smelly, yucky kind with mold all over it that looks like it died. Somehow, it's quite delicious. No one can tell me that a blue cheese grilled sandwich is not a finger-lickin' good treat.
Then came the music. The mission may have helped with this somewhat, but I'd much rather listen to CBC radio 2 or bring along my iPod (which is still loaded with mission-appropriate hymns, ballets and opera) than listen to anything on the top 40 list.
But the real indicator was this morning, when I went down to the storage room to find something for mum. I came across a bottle of sparkling mineral water and pretty much thought that it was the most exciting beverage ever. It's been chilling in the fridge and I can't wait!
Sheesh. Being a grown-up is so weird.

Our Princess Party

Yesterday our family had what we like to call a "Princess Party". When we were little girls, this involved dressing up in fancy dress-up clothes or dresses, sometimes wearing tiaras, and eating dinner without the boys. (Well, all two of them. Actually, this was usually before Peter was born, so we just kicked Daddy out.)
Since then, our "Princess Parties have become decidedly more adult. Usually we go out to dinner and then come home and try out various beauty routines while my Daddy, brother, and brethren-in-law watch hockey. But it was great fun. Some highlights included:
- Ivy's chocolate face mask. Her little brother Blake came up, looked at her, and said, "Why is your face brown?" Then turned to his cousin Ben and snickered, "Ivy looks goofy!"
- Ben coming up the stairs and getting his fingernails painted, much to his father's chagrin. Cut him some slack, he's three years old! Although, they were bright red.
- Ben coming up again and telling me, "Your face is all white, you skunk!" (Apparently "skunk" is his new pet name of choice)
- Kylie's princess cake- what a masterpiece!
- Seeing all the old princesses after 18 months- priceless

Back to the Meat Market

So...yes. My first Sunday in the Singles Ward. That was fun.
First of all, I haven't really been nearly as homesick for Finland as I thought I would be. It's almost like things are so different here that I'm not often reminded of Finland (other than the odd moment in the yogurt aisle- American yogurt is yucky). I've had relatively few moments of Finland missing-ness. Until Sunday.
I was really nervous to go to church. I just wanted my nametag and my companion and some investigators to worry about so that I wouldn't be left to my own devices in church. Needless to say, I arrived at church, sat down in Relief Society and a wave of homesickness hit me. Why were the hymnbooks so thick?!? Why are we praying in English?!? Don't look at me weird when I sing "Me Sisaret Yhdessä" instead of "As Sisters in Zion"! Where is Eva-Jo? She should be teaching the presidency message this month! I miss Sisar Mäkilä's comments! To make things worse, I didn't know anyone except for the Bishop's wife. (But she's probably the most fun person to sit with anyway).
Somehow, I made it through church. And I'm glad I did, because after Sacrament meeting, I ran across the best part of the day: THE MISSIONARIES! They were probably really weirded out by how excited I was to see them, but now they've got my name, number, and know that I will go teaching with them anytime. And to make things better, there are Sisters in our stake!
I figure once I get over the English hymns, English prayers, and complete lack of adults, I'll be semi-comfortable in the Singles Ward. For a while, at least. But as the bishop's wife said to Elena, "I want to introduce him to Janine!"
Yup, that pretty much sums up the Singles Ward.

Tervetuloa Takaisin

Yes, yes, I'm home from my mission.
Why yes, actually, Finnish was quite hard.
Indeed, it can be rather cold up there.
Yes, I did meet Santa Claus... twice!
I am happy to be home, but I miss Finland a lot.

If you have questions more specific than that, I'd love to be in touch!
Love, Janine

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wedersehen, Adieu...

I am taking this opportuinity to bid goodbye to my readers. That's right, all four of you. Two weeks from yesterday, I'll be leaving for Provo, Utah to begin my mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Finland, and I'm pretty sure that blogging is not a sanctioned activity for missionaries. It is entirely possible that I might post again before that, but don't count on it. I think that you should all send me letters in Finland, so let me know if I can e-mail you my address. Also, if anyone's interested, I'll be giving my talk on October 28 at 2 pm, Royal Oak Chapel.
Tune in again April 2009. The musings will continue.

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I spent some time this weekend remembering fondly my favorite comic books that I haven't read for some time, the Asterix Series. I remember them mostly because of their immense cleverness and prolific puns. And the fact that they take place in Ancient Gaul during the Pax Romana , which is unusual for a children's comic book. Some of my favorite bits are the names of the characters, as you'll see...
Asterix is the little one on the left. He's the smallest, most fierce warrior in the village. Obelix, the larger one, is a menhir salesman. Look up menhir and think of a synonym to see why his name is funny. Dogmatix, Obelix's little dog, is very stubborn and loves trees.



Getafix is the village's druid. He brews many magical potions, the most famous being one that gives the drinker "a fix" of superhuman strength.






Vitalstatistix is the chief of the village; the bureaucracy, if you will. His nosy and slightly controlling wife in named Impedimenta.






The village's bard is named Cacofonix, the only bard in ancient comicdom whose singing induces violent thunderstorms.



Also among the lovely cast: Fulliautomatix, the village blacksmith, Unhygienix, the fishmonger (whose wares are typically less than fresh) and his wife Bacteria, and the fat Roman centurion Gluteus Maximus.
For the full effect of these clever comics, read them yourself. The wordplay is astounding. Meanwhile, I'm off to the library to take out some of my old favorites.

The Baking Bible

One of my favorite presents that I have ever received was Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook. My then 12-year-old brother bought it for me for Christmas and since then, I've pored over it's pages and baked delicious brioche, award-winning key lime pie, cream cheese and chive biscuits, and my masterpiece lemon curd cake. I really love to bake.
I'd been craving a good baking session for some time, since my Dad got about 60 pounds of organic blueberries and we froze them. Today I finally got around to it and made 4 dozen delicious buleberry muffins. So thanks go out to my brother, who bought me the baking bible, the neighbours who lent me baking powder, IKEA for making such wonderful red-coloured measuring spoons and mixing bowls (that inspire me to cook whenever I see them) and finally, to Martha. You make me believe that I, too, can bake light, golden croissants and ice a devil's food cake with mint-chocolate ganache to perfection. You've taught me the difference between a rubber scraper and a true spatula. Who cares about the inside trading? You are my idol.