This weekened I learned about substitutions and posed with the Wienermobile.

Sorry about the wait. I had a few technical difficulties with this post.
Thanks for your patience! :)
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I have learned A LOT this weekend during my getaway to a conference with some of the ladies from our church. I could share all the lessons I've learned but it would take a few days to write everything, so I'll keep it to the most universal lessons.

Lesson #1 - Sometimes there's no substitute for the Real Thing.

For instance . . .

This is not peanut butter. Tasty. But not peanut butter.

In fact, it has been nowhere near peanuts,

which is why it's allowed to play at our house.

That is to peanut butter as a tuna sandwich is to this:

Mmm. Grilled Tilapia. To perfection.

Tuna is the only fish that's allowed into our house

and although I did just find and learn to make tuna steaks

(with herb-roasted rutabaga that was shockingly tasty)

it's just not the same thing.

With a husband that's allergic to seafood and a daughter that's allergic to peanuts,

I do not get very many chances to indulge in these favorites.

So that was my first order of business at the IHOP after our first meeting.

For those of you who have never heard of IHOP (yes, to the incredulous, those people do exist), it stands for the International House of Pancakes. And they have all sorts of breakfast foods. Of course, there I was searching the menu for fish, and then thanking God profusely that somewhere in the world they have grilled tilapia for breakfast. So I ordered my fish. And asked if I could order a side of peanut butter. The waitress looked at me without batting an eyelash and went on to the next person at the table. This raised all sorts of questions for me. Do other people order peanut butter with their fish? Did she just assume that our orders would be strange after she saw our group come in all grins and goofiness?

Ooh-ooh! Side-note! I have to write this one down to commit it to memory.

I learned that the opposite of eggs over easy is . . . eggs over hard.

I'd never heard of such a thing until one of my pals ordered their eggs that way.

We were all looking at her funny, but she worked as a waitress and is well informed

on the subject matter. You can also order "over well" and "fried eggs, hard" alternately.

I prefer runny eggs, but I'm just getting the information out there for the rest of y'all.

And so you don't look at your buddy like she's getting all creative with the breakfast lingo.

(Short-order lingo! *light bulb* That would be fun to learn!)

Anyway, my food arrived and so did my peanut butter on the side:

Oops, she brought me honey.

I took a picture of the table where my peanut butter was supposed to be.

Funny thing is that I didn't take a picture of the PB when it arrived.

About halfway through my heavenly fish, she brought the peanut butter.

 I opened the little Smuckers packet and just smelled it. Ohh. Nice.

I swirled it on my spoon, put it in my mouth and deposited it on my taste buds.

Right as the waitress began to ask me a question.

You know . . . The alternative is much weaker.

I forgot how thick peanut butter is.

Especially right off the spoon.

Makes it hard to talk.

I smiled dumbly.

There are parallels with hot cocoa.

I usually use the hot cocoa mix:

While the crunchy miniature marshmallows are weirdly charming,

I am usually a little disappointed when the mix settles to the bottom.

This is the hot cocoa I had at the IHOP:

The only thing at the bottom was melted chocolate chip morsels.

I was thinking about all this that night as I was getting ready for bed. We had all congregated in the hotel room where my sis and I stayed and we told stories and laughed and talked into the wee hours. Over the course of the weekend, I had a chance to get to know these ladies, to find out our common interests and share our stories, and just spend some time together. And it was a blast. I just enjoyed their friendship.

I've had times in my life when I've settled on substitutes, and one thing I've learned is that when you are choosing your friends there's no thing like the real thing. Imitation friends seem like the real deal, but when you get to them there's just no substance. Real friends will listen when you have something to say. Imitation friends can't wait until you're finished so they can get to what they have to say. Real friends are there when you need them. Imitation friends are there when they need you. A Real friend will tell you when you get back from the bathroom that the back of your dress is tucked into your panties. An Imitation friend will tell everyone else. Oh, yes. I know it's true. Thankfully not from this weekend.

Just like the hot cocoa, a really good friendship takes a little time and attention to simmer and mix. But if the ingredients are good and you can be patient, the reward is well worth the wait.

Lesson #2 - It's ok to ask.

This might seem like a simple thing, but can you think of a time when you wanted something and never asked? I know I'm not the only one. Just because you ask doesn't guarantee you'll get the answer you want, but at least you'll get an answer. Kind of generic, but I thought I'd toss that in there.

Lesson #3 - The Wienermobile is still seriously cool,
even though I don't like hot dogs.

Shivering in my four layers for a pic with the Wienermobile.

I mean, really. Can you imagine driving this thing around?

I will just say that I really want to learn how to drive this thing.

Just so I can pull up next to someone and ask,

"Pardon Me...do you have any Grey Poupon?"

Lesson #4 - Your old stories have new meaning to someone else.

My sister and I had a story-off at the hotel the first night, telling all the funny and embarrassing stories about each other we could think of. Like the time when we were teenagers and I was teasing her about something during a car trip with our parents and so in retaliation she crammed a blue Sweet-Tart up my nostril. And it got stuck. Hopelessly stuck. And I envisioned my future-photos album. Senior pictures, with a blue nostril. Wedding day, with a blue nostril. Posing with my firstborn child, with a blue nostril. Little old lady at the retirement home with fourteen wiry chin-hairs and a blue nostril. The last one made me laugh so hard that the Sweet-Tart went shooting out of the nostril across the back seat of the car.

I forgot to tell the ladies that one day last year my then three-year-old Waybums came to me in tears because she had crammed a blue bead into her nose. I saw her blue nostril and all those images came flashing back to me, and though she insisted that it was NoT funny, I couldn't help laughing. I told her my story and it made her feel better.

My mom told me once that one of my accomplished uncles once had to go to the hospital when he was a little kid because he had gotten something stuck up his nose. I asked my Gramma about it and she said that indeed he had. I asked what it was and she said that it was either a clover blossom or a sheep poop. This fellow is a brilliant patent-holding engineer, so I take comfort that one can make mistakes and still go on to make great achievements.

As far as my plans for achievements this week...

I'll keep you posted.