Christopher had an audition today in Salt Lake. This is normal. This audition was for a movie about female cows with light sticks up their rumps (lovely word). Apparently, and don't read further if you don't want to, female cows "ride" each other when they are in heat. When farmers see two light sticks moving out in the dark pastures they know it's time to get The Bull out. So this kind of audition wasn't really normal. It was really gross, actually.
I went with Christopher to the audition and stayed in the car. When I stay in the car I turn my face in the sun, close my eyes, and listen to 128o The Zone. The Zone is Utah's premiere sports talk radio, and I have a slight addiction. I am a p-1, as they call all avid listeners. My brothers mock me though (they are hard core) they say I am just a p-hon. Whatever, I think Bronco's defense is just as gimmicky as the next Cougartown citizen.
But let me just tell you now that I am about as girly, wimpy and feminine as they come. I am not bragging, I am just telling it like it is. The Zone is the only masculine behavior that I have.
Proof: I have never mowed the lawn. Never even turned the sucker on. Or started it. Whatever you do to get lawn mowers going.
After the audition, where Christopher had to get gritty and changed the word "rump" to "ass" in the script, we went to lunch. This time it was a lovely spot recommended by my best friend Wendy. Located at about 15th East and 15th South in a cozy neighborhood sits Mazza, Lebanese Cuisine. This is a tiny, romantic restaurant, in an out of the way spot. There, I just described the restaurant of my dreams.
When I was in Montreal on a mission I fell deeply, madly and overwhelmingly in love with Lebanese food. Where us Americans went wrong with our food I will never know. Actually, I do know. I have been to England on several occasions and their food is really bad, the type that will make you bloated for a brazilian years. We all came from England, you know, somewhere down the line. Our ancestors and their ungodly food.
This was Christopher's first taste of Lebanese love. He had a chicken shwarma with the lemon yogurt sauce and a warm falafel with Tahini, of course. Who knew that my spouse would like mashed chickpeas?
Question I am going to start asking people: Where was your first falafel?
My Answer: Paris (with Page....she had to be included somewhere on this post).
Wendy's Answer: Jerusalem
Christopher's Answer: SugarHouse
I had the spicy stuffed grape leaves, a golden spinach turnover with a splendid taste of extra virgin olive oil and fried herbed potatoes. Served with warm pita. Let me also mention that their water had a PERFECT hint of lemon. Yes, we had baklava for dessert. I love you, you light crusted stuffed with almond piece of bliss.
It was so good, Christopher even enjoyed his burps on the way home.
Later tonight, I came home from toiling in the YW field (like mission field, but with the Young Women) and my friend Sarah had baked me the cutest cookies, shaped and colored like fall leaves, with just a slight hint of pumpkin spice.
I am pretty sure we didn't get pumpkin spice from England. But if we did, my apologies to the English. 'Cause those cookies were good.