Next to Good Food, There's Good Music

My last post was about good food. But right up there with delicious food is delicious music. Sometimes I wonder why, with so much uplifting, edifying, beautiful music available, do I listen to such humdrum, weariful music? Only I know the answer (er... never mind). On Saturday night I attended the O.C. Tanner Gift of Music Concert 2008 featuring the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, the Utah Symphony Orchestra with world renowned maestro Erich Kunzel, and delightful guests Denyce Graves and Brian Stokes Mitchell. The title was "An American Songbook" and indeed I felt patriotic. Brian Stokes Mitchell stole the show in my opinion, although the Maestro's professionalism to conduct two singers behind him, a full orchestra in front of him, and an entire choir way in front of him was impressive. The concert was held in the Conference Center where there isn't a bad seat (President Monson and President Eyring were in attendance). Music has the mind blowing capacity to grasp my emotions and do whatever it pleases to them. Last night, it chose to thrust them into a patriotic vortex smeared with red, white, blue and apple pie. When I first opened up the program I thought it was featuring Beyonce (she looks like Denyce and the way it was written was similar to 'Beyonce'), so I got really, really excited. I thought, "Beyonce and the Mo Tab? Could there be a better hybrid? Move over Celion Dion, we have a new greatest show ever!" Although she was no Beyonce, Denyce was quite entertaining. The concert was gorgeous and I was reminded that music has a wonderful power associated with it. Anyone up for a baseball game and a barbecue?

All You Can Eat = All You Can Enjoy

There are few things in life that are very physically enjoyable. Scratch that- in the time it took that thought to go from my head to my fingers, I thought of about six different physically enjoyable things, and six is more than a few. That's what you get for brainstorming new blog posts... But, having said that, let me iterate what I meant to write, in a watered down fashion: I love to eat, and especially when it is all-you-can-eat, and even more especially when I don't pay for it, but can still look at myself in the mirror because I did so honestly. This week I had some truly excellent meals that were noteworthy in my book. As an epicure with palatable taste, it doesn't take much to make Mister D.W.Belly happy. On Tuesday I was invited to a good friend's house for a fresh salmon dinner. "Fresh salmon? in Utah?" you inquire acquisitively. (But then you are distracted and mysteriously impressed at my usage of two words with 'q,' in succession, and the original thought of salmon has vanished like an open box of truffles.) My friend and his wife vacationed in Alaska this summer and caught kilograms of fish, which they immediatley froze and shipped to landlocked Utah. So we had a pleasurable salmon meal with great company and a nice sauce (on the salmon, not the company). Wednesday night I attended a chocolate party and was partial to the bananas dipped in chocolate, although the marshmallows were tasty too. Thursday night I went to a housewarming party with chicken curry, watermelon, red velvet cupcakes and homemade ice cream. Homemade ice cream is irreplacable, like Beyonce. On Thursday I dined with my brother at the Campus Commons (commonly called Cannon Center), containing confections, crepes- cream cheese. I had four entrees becuse I have little will power when it comes to food, and it was all just so good! Yummm. I was such a happy student. I barely even needed lunch because I was so satisfied. I ate some other meals inbetween those ones, but those were the highlights. Holla to Thomas for taking me out to the Campus Commons!

A Brief Boston Ballgame Bulletin

That's a fancy alliterative title for "I don't have too much time but I want to write a post, and Boston Sports are on my mind." The Patriots are in trouble, to put it kindly. They couldn't win a single exhibition game without Brady, and now he's out for the season. Good luck Pats! The Red Sox, on the other hand, took one from the Rays tonight behind Lester's fantastic performance and moved just 1/2 game behind them in the A.L. East. Mike Lowell's back and feeling great. Things are really looking up for my BoSox. And don't forget, the doughty Celtics are still World Champions! If you have any updates about Boston's underground curling fascination, I would love to hear them. I am an equal opportunity blogger here, willing to give attention to all sports.

A Softball Game for the Ages

Baseball: Fun to watch and follow. Softball: Fun to play. This morning I had a mission companion call me up and invite me to come play slow-pitch softball with his community team in South Jordan, UT. I love softball so I leapt for joy at the opportunity. I imagined myself coming up to bat with two outs in the top of the ninth and blasting in the winning run, being flaunted by dazzling women and then carried off the field on the shoulders of the throngs of fans chanting my name. I didn't right much know what to expect when we got to the field though, except that we had jerseys (that matched, and were button-down!) and an umpire who was not a member of either team! We had ten players (four in the outfield) and eleven members on the team so I, as the new guy, took turns playing far right field. The only time I touched the ball in the outfield was when I made a running catch with my borrowed 10 year old mitt (it was purchased for a twelve year old, and the finger size showed that). I was quite pleased with my catch. When I got to bat for the first time I followed my Mom's advice, "Swing at Everything Honey." I sent the first pitch into shallow left and made it safely to first. My second at bat was less ostentatious; I essentially hit the ball straight down and everyone was so in shock at how far the ball didn't go, that I just sprinted for first and made it safely. A bust of a bunt, but a basehit nonetheless. My third at bat was another blooper to the outfield, again a basehit. After seven innings (the regulation) the score was tied, necessitating extra innings. I sat out the eighth inning, but finally got my chance to bat in the ninth. It was fate. Imagine this: bottom of the ninth, extra innings, bases loaded, two outs, I'm up to bat. So far, things were going exactly as I had imagined them to be-in my daydreams. Again, my momma always told me to swing at everything. So when the first pitch came slowly by, I hammered it right over the leaping shortstop into centerfield and watched as my teammate on third came into Home to score the winning run! After getting to first I turned around, anticipating my name being chanted, fans fighting tooth and nail to get on the field, and those dazzling women chasing me. Unfortunately, because I was the new guy, no one on the team knew my name, the fans were not clawing to get on the field (they were distracted by their popcorn) and the dazzling women took the day off I guess. Anyway, it was a fantastic moment and my team did all come out to congratulate me, even if they called me 'Joe,' 'Francisco,' 'DeShawn,' and 'How long has he been on our team?'