Dumb Things to Say

Do you ever have days where your brain and your mouth aren't quite connected right? I like to think of myself as someone who usually thinks before she speaks, but that hasn't kept me from having an occasional doozy. At the risk of proving that this isn't only an occasional event, I'm going to indulge in a very random, not-so-logically laid out blog post. (Warning: Roundabout train of thought to come... choo choo...) I was online looking at a few restaurant websites to find a cool place to go for Valentine's Day. When one of the restaurant menus had Rack of Lamb, this reminded me of one of my brain-mouth-disconnection doozies.

Last spring when my two younger sisters graduated from BYU we had a family reunion in Utah so we could all go to their graduation. We celebrated afterward by going out to Bombay House for Indian food (I even bribed Jared and Camryn to eat it by promising them a slurpee-- Jared like the garlic naan). Meg and I decided to get two entrees and split. Most of them had the option of either chicken or lamb for meat. Megan suggested that we should get one chicken and one lamb dish. When I hesitated, she asked, "Don't you like lamb, Karen?" I told her that I wasn't sure-- I'd only had lamb twice. One time I'd liked it, the other time I thought it was gross. When she probed a little bit more I revealed that once I had had rack of lamb at a fancy restaurant and it was really yummy. The other time I had eaten lamb was when Brother Metler cooked it for our seminary class when we were studying Passover in the Old Testament. Megan looked at me and said, "Seriously? You don't know if you like lamb because you didn't like it when Brother Metler cooked it for seminary?" We got lamb. (I even liked it.)

My other doozy that comes to mind is when Dave's brother got married. I was standing in line at the reception trying not to be bored out of my mind as I greeted and made small talk with bunches of random people -most of whom I did not know or had met once at most. A friend of Dave's family who I will call "Janet Smith" came through the line and I chatted with her and we made the connection that she had family in California near where we lived at the time. I lit up and said, "Oh maybe you're related to this person in California we know... her name is Janet Jones!" The poor woman gave me one of those "Wow-- are you really that big of an airhead-- but I'm going to be nice and not show that I think that" smiles and said, "Nope, we're not related. Just the same first name."

Maybe you never quite outgrow being a blonde, no matter how dark your hair gets as an adult.