Every General Conference Morning, my siblings and I awoke to
the tantalizing aroma of fried bread. I remember sitting at the counter s mom
gently roll out the balls of dough and cut them into various triangles. I always picked the most oddly
shaped one, sprinkled it with powder sugar, telling my mom that it snowed on my
sconce, and dipping it in my grandma's homemade Strawberry Jam. General
Conference never tasted so good!
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