General Confence Lunch?

Due to the Coronavirus pandemic, this is the third General Conference weekend without our family/ missionary lunch between sessions.  I don't know how I feel about it.

For more years than I can remember (since even my oldest was young), my family has shared lunch with the missionaries between General Conference sessions both Saturday and Sunday.  We have fed as many as 2 dozen (or even maybe a little more) missionaries.  This means I have prepared lunch for about 40 people both days.  Ok, Sunday's lunch was basically a repeat of Saturday's, not a separate menu. The missionaries never complained.

It started many, many years ago.   We had "always" attended all the sessions of General Conference.  During a brief period when we had satellite or cable TV we tried watching it at home.  I had problems with that.  The children drifted off.  The house yelled at me.  Dishes. Laundry.  So much to do.  I have never been a master (or should I say mistress) housekeeper so there is always a great deal that needs doing.  It was distracting from the conference for me.  So, we made it a practice to attend conference at the Stake Center.  We packed up (relatively) quiet toys and used a side room rather than the chapel.  The children played quietly in the back.  Sometimes they colored. They were only required to sit and listen  when the prophet spoke. Without pressure, this evolved into them coming closer, sitting and listening more, and taking notes as they grew older.  We set up Seminary tables and brought in Relief Society (softer) chairs so that we could take notes (or color) more comfortably. 

But we were talking about food.  It was too stressful to go home, eat, and return during the two hour break. I started packing lunch for us.  I packed some pretty good lunch.  I wanted the family to associate conference with good things.  One day we were sitting in the multi-purpose room eating fried chicken when we saw the missionaries come through, having just made themselves some Ramen for lunch.  Noodles and broth! That's all.  I felt awful and vowed, Never again.  

From that time forward, we invited all the missionaries in the Stake Center to join us for lunch during General Conference.  I had to give up fried chicken.  That was just too much.  I kept it pretty simple.  The usual fare was make-your-own-sandwich fixings - breads, egg salad, tuna salad, deli ham, deli turkey, cheese, peanut butter, jam, & honey - veggie tray, several layer dip, tortilla chips, beans & franks.   When she was healthier and stronger, Miriam made cookies.  More recently Ruth's kids baked cookies.  On rare occasion, I put ice cream bars in the freezer for the missionaries.   We texted an invitation to all the missionaries in the Stake a week or two in advance.  Every full time missionary in the Stake Center was invited to lunch.  Once in a while, they invited investigators.   We loved it.  

I set out cameras and asked the missionaries to take lots of pictures and to give me email addresses.  I emailed the pictures to the missionaries' families and posted them to Facebook.  I tried to get the emails out on Saturday so if there were mail failures, I could ask the missionaries for corrections at Sunday's lunch.  such fun

As simple as the menu was, it was time consuming (I am slow shopping and food prepping) and costly.  Now, I have had a 3 conference break.  And I have grown enough to be able to thoroughly enjoy conference at home even though my home is still in dire need of attention.  I think that the worst of the pandemic is past and that we will be able to meet at the Stake Center again in October.  I am feeling old, slow, and tired, but I cannot see not inviting the missionaries to lunch. And I love that Benjamin's family comes from another ward and  Ruth's family comes from another Stake to join us for at least morning session (do the breakfast croissants  have anything to do with that? (family only, not the missionaries, but sometimes I feel bad about that.The last few times David & Teresa made those instead of me)) and lunch before the Hinds take the kids to rest and watch at home and B+ go to watch at her parent's home.  Can I simplify lunch again?  Maybe not make egg salad and tuna salad sandwich fixings.  I am more tired thinking about doing the lunch after this break than I was when I was actually doing it.  So, it might be ok.  (Of course, I am also getting older.) But not to feed the missionaries?  While enjoying the break, I have missed them.  Not yet. 

What's in a Name - surname. Barbara MIJARES REED OWES ROBARTS

I was born Barbara Louise MIJARES, daughter of Louise Marie McGinness Mijares and Rolf Siegfried Mijares.  Mijares is a noble Spanish family name meaning millet or millet field.  My father and grandfather were born in the Philippines. I have not followed my line further back (yet). It is my understanding that our family were landowners in the Philippines.   

My parents were divorced when I was very young.  My mother married Harold REED who adopted me (and my brother and sister).  The name Reed may have come from the nickname meaning red.  Or it might come from the valley of Redesdale or the River Rede in Northern England.

Mother and Harry divorced.  She married Gordon D. OWES who adopted me and my siblings, now a sister and 2 brothers) I was told that the name was originally Aas (possibly pronounced owes), but when the family came to America from Scandinavia wiseacre (or careless) Americans changed the spelling from double A S to A double S.  When the Aas realized what happened and what it meant, they changed their last name to OWES, same sound, different spelling and meaning.  In Norway and Sweden  "As" meant "ridge" 

Mother and Gordon also divorced, but I was married before she married Don JOHNSTON.

I married Glen ROBARTS. (we divorced, I kept the name because it is my children's name)  

 Robarts is supposedly a variation of Robert or Roberts which comes from the Old German and means "fame" or "bright."

I, however, created a name origin story for the Robarts;

Long ago in Wales, a young man named Bart served the lord of the manor by rowing his boat for the master's pleasure.  Bart was a bit of a dreamy young fellow who enjoyed nature.  Sometimes he would be so enraptured by the beauties of nature that he would forget to row.  He watched a mother duck and her flock of ducklings swimming near by.  The master would order, "Row, Bart!"  Bart admired the reflection of the clouds on the pond and the boat drifted.  "Row, Bart!"  A butterfly fluttered by.  "Row, Bart!"  And so it went all day long.  You know how sounds carry over water.  All Bart's neighbors in their fields and shops heard the master's call.  When Bart returned home, the villagers would teasingly greet him, "Row, Bart!"  Soon he was not just Bart, but always Robart, when he married, his wife was Robarts' wife, and his children were Robarts children.  I know this is the true story of how the Robarts family got its name because I made it up myself. 

Below is an honestly true story:  

One day at the temple, sisters I knew casually asked me to remind them of my name.  So I told them Bart's story to help them remember.  

A week or two later, we met at the temple again.  They greeted me, "Hello, Sister Michaels!" 

Michael, row the boat ashore