Don't judge...

So.
I came home from my LDS mission 3.5 years ago.
I didn't serve in some far off land (unlike some of my friends who ended up in places like Russia and Guatemala), unless you count Los Angeles as a foreign country. Some people would. I was lucky enough to serve Spanish speaking and was introduced to some of the most amazing food ever created.
Flautas?
Papusas?
Horchata?
Gifts from heaven.
My mother, genius cook that she is, learned how to recreate most of these delights pretty soon after I got home. She loves me, what can I say? As wonderful as it was to eat flautas without any roaches crawling across my plate (you think I'm kidding, don't you?) there's just something about eating authentic Latino food made by someone who genuinely doesn't speak any English that makes it more...special.
Friday night I went downtown with Platt (Oh! I haven't told you about Platt yet? Here's a quick run down: Mallory Platt and I are the same person. No, really. People in our ward even call us The Mallory(ie)s. I call her Platt because, let's be honest, it's really odd to call someone by your first name) and we went to an art thing that one of her designs from school was nominated to be part of. (She's an architect.) Afterward we went wandering about. She was aghast to discover that I'd never in all my born days eaten at The Red Iguana. Apparently this is some sort of sin. Off we went. Can I please just tell you all that I nearly cried when we walked into the restaurant? I was immediately homesick for my mission. It smelled like every single dinner appointment that I walked into for nearly 18 months. I actually did cry when they gave us our salsa, and not just because it was hot (apparently my tongue forgot that I used to eat very large jalapeno peppers whole on a regular basis). Platt laughed at me when they gave me my food because I was more than slightly verklempt.

See that there? Real crema. Not sour cream. Honest to goodness refried beans. It was heaven on a plate. I will be returning soon. Don't you little worry. 

Sometimes...

...people say absolutely appallingly awkward things to me. It's true. Every time it happens, I file it away just in case I'm ever in need of an excellent anecdote or I'm out of ideas as to what to post on my blog. So, my dear readers, here are a few of them:

"It's okay. You'll make a really good step mom to someone's kids." (Said to me by a roommate who was trying to comfort me when I had my heart totally crushed a while back.)

"So, Mallorie, when are you going to get pregnant?" (No. I'm not kidding. This gem comes from my sister-in-law's baby shower.)

"So how come you're not married yet?" (Every single girl on the planet has been asked this question at least once. And every time it happens, I want to backhand the person because it's none of their dang business!!)

"In my day, only ugly girls who couldn't get married went on missions." (This from the mouth of my mission president. I do not jest. Said in the middle of Zone Conference no less.)

"Wow. Your legs are really really white." (Isn't my boss such a sweet person? It was even better when I told her to get used to it, they'd be this color all summer. Not for lack of trying, just lack of my skin's ability to be anything but glaringly white.)

"So how's married life?" (Said to me by a member of our home ward one day a couple months after I came home from my mission. Imagine the awkwardness which ensued when I had to explain that I was not or ever had been married.)

Those are just the few that I can think of right now. I'm sure that this list will inevitably grow the longer that I'm a) single, b) a girl and c) white as a ghost. If you're looking for an even better laugh, check this out. It makes me giggle every time.

Top Ten Reasons Why I Want a Time Machine...

10. To go back to 9th grade and convince 9th grade Mallorie that white eyeliner is SO not the way to go. 


9. Ditto on the 8th grade perm: bad bad bad plan.


8. 2 words: Yellow heels. (Okay, this one needs more than 2 words: about a month ago Jalaynie and I went to Famous Footwear at Gateway and I found a pair of yellow heels that I loved. They were even on sale, but I didn't feel like I could spend the money on them. I went back when I did have the moola and they were gone. Now I dream about them at night. I'm not even kidding). 


7. To visit specific days of my mission that I miss. There are lots. (Like the time that Wollschy and I were counting shirtless men in Palmdale. Or Zonie Appreciation Week when Wollschy and I tried to climb up the Zonie's balcony. She made it, I did not.)


6. In order to convince Freshman in College Mallorie that taking math first is brilliant and that she really did want to get it out of the way. That way she wouldn't have to spend 2 extra semesters in college just because of it. 


5. To be Aubie's friend before senior year. We had to shove all of our good times into one year instead of having all of high school for them.


4. So that I could return to 10th grade and demonstrate to 10th grade Mallorie the importance of joining the debate team earlier. Much cooler than trying out for the dance team. 


3. 1940s. Best. Clothes. Ever. 


2. So as to teach myself to learn to take a deep breath earlier in my adult life. This has been a miraculous concept that has recently been learned. Super helpful.


1. Because, as an historian, I have about 10,000 places/events/people that I'd like to visit/witness/talk to. Then I really could talk to dead people. 

Sometimes...

...base my self worth on how many comments I get on my blog. I know it's silly, but it's very true.


...I check my phone obsessively. Okay all the time, but the title of the blog post is sometimes, so I couldn't put all the time, it would ruin the illusion.


...I catalog what I'm wearing. As in "Shirt: Old Navy Jacket: Old Navy Jeans: Gap Shoes: Payless" like in a magazine. I never did this before I read Confessions of a Shopaholic but Becky Bloomwood does it all the time and I just got in the habit. Don't judge. 


...I look in the mirror and wonder why no one told me that my bangs were sticking straight up Alfalfa style. This used to happen on the mission all the time, and Wollschy got so sick of it that she cut my hair off right at the roots. I'm not even joking. And when we finally got our hair cut by a professional (Katie), she made Wollsch promise never to touch anyone's head with scissors again. In her defense, I told her it was okay.


...I freak out about my grades. And do things like run up three flights of stairs to beg a professor to allow me to email a paper because I can't get it to print. I (might) have done this today. My friend DJ (might) have told me that I need to chill because I (might) have been freaking out. Just maybe.


... I believe in those scary chain mail letters. Not enough to pass it on, but when something bad happens I wonder if it's because I didn't pass it on. 


...I get homesick for the mission. Like when new missionaries come home and put up pictures on Facebook. I have an overwhelming urge to put on my name tag and see if it's the same. (It's not.)


...I think in worst case scenarios. Example: My sister won't answer the phone so I automatically assume that something awful has happened and she's dead in a ditch. In reality, she just left her phone in her room. I'm crazy.


...I'm a mean person. No really. I am. Just trust me.


...(this is an all the time) I love it when the Dalby girls do "Sometimes" posts. It makes me happy. And it makes me miss them. (In reality, Emily is not really a Dalby anymore, she's a Mangum, but they will always be the Dalby girls to me.)


Just because I put up another post doesn't mean that I want you all to stop commenting on the book post. Just so you know. 

Tune My Heart...

Today, I'm going to focus on something extra positive. I love the song "Come Thou Fount". On the mission, everything time I was sad, down, having a hard day or was super happy, excited about life, basically whatever mood I was in, I would listen to it. It brings peace to my soul when I need it, adds joy when joy is already present and helps bring the Spirit, so it's always good to have around. I love the idea of tuning 'your heart to sing his praise.' It suggests something finite, something small and simple, but yet still difficult to do. It's a part of you that takes time to get to the right place. That idea gives me hope. It's the whole idea that perfection is a slow process, attainable, but not in this life. As we move closer to Him, we can truly learn to sing His praises, to worship Him the way that we should, in the right 'key' if you will.
Part of it reminds me of a phrase in the scriptures that I never really saw until I was a missionary. The phrase 'in fine'. I love it. I love the image it conjures in my mind. In fine...to me it's all the small little details, the idea that with all things considered this happened or that happened. I love that the Lord takes it all in. In fine. All the small, minor tuning we do to our lives to make the key what it needs to be. Sometimes it just hits me how perfect it all is, how large, yet how small. How majestic, yet how simple what He has created for us is. I love when things hit me like that. It helps me to feel small and sheltered by Him, yet at the same time, so important, with such a mission to fulfill.

One Year Older...

I wanted to think of something profound to say today, it being my birthday and all...but nothing is coming to mind. Dang it! If I'm going to get older, I should at least get wiser too...isn't that how the song goes? Anyway, I guess that's okay, seeings as it probably wouldn't have been something too profound anyway...I keep thinking about my birthday last year while I was a missionary. It was such a good day! We taught some lessons, the elders took us out to lunch, the Santillans made dinner and a cake for me. I was woken up by my compie and the other sister that we lived with hitting me with huge pink balloons...wow. What a day. This year there were no pink balloons, BUT it is raining, so that's almost as good.