I should probably clarify, lest any of you think that I’m a terrific intellect, that this blog is shared by John and me. (Hence the picture of us both at the top.) Here’s how you can tell our blog postings apart:

If the entry is brilliant, thought-provoking, and deeply intellectual or somehow related to current world events, technology, or science fiction–it’s probably John’s.

If the entry is brilliant, thought-proviking, but not quite so deeply intellectual and somehow related to current personal events, relationships, or witty snarkisms–it’s probably Shannon’s.

Also John’s initials always follow his postings. I usually opt for cartoons ripped off the Internet.

On Tuesday night (Valentine’s Day, in case you didn’t register that fact) John and I got off work early and he took me to dinner at Olive Garden in Provo.

I’ve never noticed it before, but on Valentine’s Day suddenly couples are everywhere. I bet you didn’t even know that so many people dated or were married in the world. Everywhere I looked, people were walking hand-in-hand, cuddling up, smooching. Walking hand-in-hand with my wonderful husband, I actually felt like I was part of a special, secret club–the Secret Society of Lovers.

Sometimes, on a regular day, when you see two people expressing PDA (whether it’s hand-holding or arms around the waist or kissing), you think, “Gah! Get a room!”

But on Valentine’s Day it’s different. You see a couple engaged in PDA and it’s like, “Hey, look! You’re in the Secret Society of Lovers, too! You go, girl!” It’s an instant bond with people you don’t know.

Members of the SSL come out just once a year, the one day it’s acceptable and even a status symbol to show your love for someone else. I want a card embossed with gold script that says

Shannon
Honored Member of the Secret Society of Lovers Since August 2001

(Present this card at any ice cream establishment for 15 percent discount!)

I’ll keep wishing…

In the meantime, here are two tips for anyone (i.e., guys) planning to take their sweetie out for a special dinner next V-Day:

1) If you want to take her (which, translated, means that she wants to go, so you’d better take her) to a fancy schmancy place like Chef’s Table in Orem, you’d better call for reservations at least three weeks in advance. John wanted to take me (which, translated again, means that I wanted to go and told John he’d better take me) to Chef’s Table, so in late January I suggested that he call to schedule a reservation. Here’s the gist of his phone conversation with the Chef’s Table employee:

John: Hi. Um, I was wondering if I could make a reservation for Valentine’s Day.

Chef’s Table Employee: Sure, no problem. We’ve only got two reservations so far.

John, thinking to self: Phew. Good. My wife won’t hate me, and maybe I won’t even need to get her flowers if I take her here.

Chef’s Table Employee: Let me just go grab the reservation book. Do you mind if I put you on hold?

John: N– (Hold music cuts off his response . . .)

John, fifteen minutes later, still on hold, thinking to self: Hmmm. Maybe I’ll have to get her flowers after all . . .

To sum up, after being on hold for fifteen minutes John finally hung up. He called back a week later, and guess what? The only spot still available was for 9:30 p.m., and if you know me, you know that 9:30 p.m. is practically equivalent to 2:30 a.m. I’m pretty sure I have a trip switch hidden somewhere deep inside me that flips on sleep mode starting between 8:30 and 9 at night.

So, needless to say, we didn’t go to Chef’s Table this year but opted for Olive Garden instead.

Now for tip #2:

2) No matter where you take your sweetie for dinner on Valentine’s Day, be sure you go early. We arrived at Olive Garden at 4:30 and already there was a ten-minute wait. This was nothing compared to when we left Olive Garden at 5:45–a line was coming out the front door and couples were strewn everywhere, waiting to be seated. We’re glad we got in and out early.

(Obviously, this guy’s not a member of the SSL club . . .)

Yesterday we had company for dinner, and we were planning to have pot roast cooked in the crock pot with potatoes and carrots on the side. That is, we were planning to have pot roast until I accidentally bought an oven roast instead.

I got the roast from the high-class grocery store Wal-Mart, where the roasts have pictures of pots and ovens to clearly distinguish one type of roast from another.

(I have to admit…I didn’t realize there was a difference until I noticed the pictures.)

I thought I was in the crock pot section of the roasts–I checked the pictures and everything. The pot roasts didn’t look all that appetizing (arm chuck roast? yuck). And they were all large, around three or four pounds. We were just feeding four people and didn’t want leftovers.

Suddenly my eyes lighted on a beautiful triangular roast called tri-tip sirloin. My mind instantly backtracked to our most recent trip to Tucanos, the amazing Brazilian restaurant, where tri-tip sirloin was my favorite meat selection they brought to our table. Either that or top sirloin. In any case, I knew the tri-tip had to be good, and I wanted dinner to turn out good. Plus, the meat was only 1.70 pounds–perfect for four people without much leftover.

It wasn’t until I got home and proudly pulled my tri-tip from the Wal-Mart plastic bag that I noticed the label had a picture of an oven, not a pot.

Have I ever cooked an oven roast before?

No.

Heck, I’m not even that good at making pot roast, and with that all you do is dump the meat in a pot with water and turn the thing on for eight hours.

That’s when I started worrying. John will tell you that I’m a worrier, and, as I always say, John is never wrong. I worried all through the sledding party on Saturday afternoon and dinner on Saturday night. I worried all through sacrament meeting on Sunday and my Sunday school lesson (which I taught!) and relief society. I came home from church worried and scoured the Internet for needed insight on how to cook a tri-tip sirloin in the oven.

I learned that tri-tip is an oven roast because it requires dry heat to cook properly. If you cook it improperly, like with moisture in a crock pot, or overcook it, it can turn out tough. Appropriate cooking methods include grilling, broiling, or roasting (in an oven, like the picture on the meat label indicates).

In addition to worrying, another talent I have, especially in times of possible calamity, is praying. I wonder if anybody else has ever said eight prayers in a single morning for help to figure out how to successfully cook a tri-tip sirloin oven roast. I may have been the first.

In answer to my prayers and nervous Web surfing, I found a recipe for a savory herb rub, and I read about six cookbooks to figure out what temperature the roast needed to cook and what type of pan to cook it in (about 350 degrees, and a shallow pan covered in tinfoil).

We pulled out the roast at 6 p.m. and checked it (I made John do this, I was too worried).

It was done!

And, I’m happy to report, it turned out tasty! John gave it rave reviews, which is really saying something, since he’s a bit of a meat connoisseur.

The secret seems to be in the herb rub I used. So I share it here for all fellow wannabe successful oven roasters.

Shannon’s Basic Oven Roast Recipe

1 beef tri-tip roast (approximately 2 pounds)

1 tsp. rosemary
1 tsp. savory
1 tsp. thyme
1 tsp. oregano
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. black pepper
1/2 tsp. garlic powder
1/2 tsp. onion powder
1/4 tsp. crushed red pepper

1. Heat oven to 425ºF. In small bowl, combine seasoning ingredients. Press seasoning mixture evenly into surface of beef roast.
2. Place roast, fat side up, in a shallow pan lined with aluminum foil (a cookie sheet or other baking pan will work). Do not add water or cover. Roast in preheated 425°F oven for 35 to 40 minutes for rare to medium.
3. Remove roast when meat thermometer registers 135°F for rare or 155°F for medium (I used an instant-read thermometer, which you only insert after you pull the roast from the oven). Allow roast to stand outside the oven, tented with aluminum foil, for 10 minutes. Roast will continue to rise in temperature to reach 140°F for rare and 160°F for medium.

If you want to roast potatoes with the beef, you can cut up potatoes or other vegetables (carrots, squash, whatever) and coat them in oil and herbs. You can use the same herb mixture you used for the roast, if you want, and just add some oil to help coat the veggies. (Or you can buy a pre-made herb mix from the store for the veggies.) Then place the veggies around the roast and cook them with the roast. Once you remove the roast from the oven increase the oven temp to 475 degrees and continue cooking the veggies 10 minutes or until tender and lightly browned.

It turns out good! Honest! I can swear by it now, since I am a successful oven roast maker!

This time of year I can’t help but think of the Caribbean and a vacation. Part of it is that it’s January and snowy outside. I may also be influenced by my assortment of desktop background photos from the Webshots “Beaches” collection that I stare at for eight hours daily.

Right now it’s a lovely white-sand beach with bright blue water splashing over stones on the shore. It’s obviously warm and comfy there. I can practically feel the sun on my bare shoulders.

The picture just changed, and how it’s an empty hammock strung between two palm trees overlooking the ocean. It’s dusk, and looks so peaceful.

This picture isn’t from Webshots, but–ahhh…don’t you just want to be there, right now?

I sure do.

This month I started attending a step aerobics class in Springville. It’s unlike any step class I’ve ever joined, mostly because it’s actually a combination of step and jazzercize. It’s fun, though, and really convenient since it’s just three minutes from my house.

The class is small–about six women plus the teacher. Our instructor is an older middle-aged woman with three young grandkids and a lot of energy. I’m obviously the youngest member of the class (probably the only one under thirty) and the only one without kids to her name or post-baby fat on her hips.

Even though I knew this, the fact was made more obvious today when after class I walked to my four-door car hidden in the midst of six minivans.

They all drive minivans. The family car. Utah’s I-have-six-kids-with-one-on-the-way vehicle. (Actually, in Utah maybe that would be an SUV.)

I’ve been attending this class for three weeks and today was the first time I felt a little out of my league. Sure, I can bounce around longer than most of them and kick higher. But they all have bigger autos and families than me.

Sigmund Freud said, “If youth knew; if age could,” and I think I see the truth in that.

(If the title of this post hasn’t warned you sufficiently, I hereby further warn you to postpone reading this post until you have finished eating. Or, better yet, read it now and eat later when you’ve forgotten all about what I’m about to write.)

Today I got to try out a housecleaning product that I had bought when we first got new carpet, but hadn’t used yet: Spot Shot.

It’s magical stuff. I know this because I read about it in Talking Dirty with the Queen of Clean, and because today I tried it out myself for the first time.

After I got home from church today I fed Kyra, our not so little kitten (she’s almost a year old now), and then let her upstairs to romp around a bit. John was still at bishopric meetings, so I made myself lunch–a piece of toast smeared with Nutella and sliced bananas. It was delicious. One of my favorite semi-healthy treats.

I was just finishing off my last bite when a loud hack-hacking noise arose from behind me. I turned in my chair just in time to see Kyra toss her cookies…er, Friskies.

You’re likely familiar with standard human vomit. Now imagine that pinkish-orange mass dotted with non-digested Friskie bits. A colorful mess it was.

My first thought was, Sure glad I already ate my lunch.

My second thought was, Ewww. Kyra just threw up her own lunch.

I gently scooped up the cat, who was now licking her vomity paws, and put her down in the basement so I could clean up. (I was afraid she might try to explore the mess she had just created. Cats are curious, after all.)

This is where Spot Shot comes in. I wiped up the main blob with a paper towel (two, actually) and then covered the area in Spot Shot. A few dabs with a clean cloth and voila! Clean carpet.

This was our first carpet blunder since we got the new carpet, which is why it’s blog worthy. That, and it involved kitty vomit. John assures me that we’ll have many more such blunders once we have kids. Probably then we’ll have stuff in the carpet that we never even thought kids were capable of producing.

I’m telling you…cats are good practice for parenthood.