While we were in nursery last year there was one little girl (we'll go with calling her Estelle) who was especially clingy, and she got very attached to me. So much so that she would attempt to climb up me like a kitten if I didn't pick her up as soon as she came in and generally speaking I'd spend the whole first hour holding her, and then she'd play after snack time. As I understand it things didn't go well after I got moved to Primary. (and then there was the kid who wouldn't go because Luke wasn't there . . . I guess there actually is a group we're popular with!)
Anyway. She's a Sunbeam now and still gets excited when she sees me. To the point that this past Sunday about halfway through sacrament meeting she ran back a couple of pews to sit on my lap. Which was fine with me and I imagine her mom appreciated the break - she's very . . . energetic, shall we say. Pretty soon after (Estelle) sort of just materialized in my lap one of her classmates came running back too. Things looked like they were going to get really interesting for a minute, but (Brooke) just gave her a hug and said "hi (Estelle)! I love you!" and went back to her family after just a few moments. At which point (Estelle) turned back to me and told me all about how that was her friend.
It was seriously the sweetest thing I've seen in a long time. These two scarcely played together in nursery last year, and I don't think they see each other except for Sunday. But they spend two hours a week in the same room and that's all it takes to be bosom friends like Anne and Diana. (judging you if you had to click that link, lol)
I wish friendship in adulthood worked the same way as friendship between three-year-olds. Where mere proximity means you're as good as family. All it takes is the same favorite color to forge an unbreakable bond. None of this peacocking around trying to impress people, or worrying about saying the right thing. Maybe you forget the other person exists when you're not together, but there's no wondering if you're actually wanted there when you're together. No gossip, no nastiness, no secrets, no Mean Girls-style manipulation behind the scenes. Three-year-old friendship is friendship in its purest form.
I mean, I know it's an overly simplistic view of things, and that life gets complicated, and that some people "just don't click," whatever that means (because I swear it's something different to everyone who uses it). But I still wish we could hold on to some of the simpler, less complicated ways of looking at things we all used to have. It might not bring about world peace but there would definitely be a lot fewer lonely people sitting in corners wondering what went wrong. I can't help but think that most people would be happier.
Anyway . . . that's what's been on my mind this week. Good thing spring break is next week - bring on the thoughtlessness!
P. ost S. cript
We totally should have done this a few years ago. Mostly because my dad would have reacted the exact same way.
Showing posts with label religious(?). Show all posts
Showing posts with label religious(?). Show all posts
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Not Ashamed
Nano update: so far so good, as of yesterday I was even a little ahead of where I needed to be. But today there's a bit of writer's block going, and I'm pretty sure it's partially rant induced, so I'm getting it out. (you know my motto - blogging is cheaper than therapy. plus I'm not sure this quite qualifies as needing therapy.) At the moment I haven't even decided if this post will ever even see the light of day . . .
Anyway.
I didn't vote yesterday. I didn't vote early. I didn't vote at all.
It's not because I don't care. It's not that I didn't know who to vote for. It's not even because I didn't want to. (okay, it kind of is that last one. a little.)
It's because there is absolutely nothing in the world more pointless than voting in Utah.
Nothing.
I know I'm far from the first person to rant about the electoral college and it's uselessness and the way it nullifies more than half the votes cast . . . but it really drives me nuts to think that such an archaic, deliberately biased system is still in place.
I mean, think about it. In a rational world, a world where American politicians elected to offices higher than, oh, mayor-ish were capable of thinking of anything other than themselves it would work like this (metaphorically speaking): everyone would get a card. Red or blue. Or green or orange or pink because in this world those other cards would actually be relevant. You pick the color you want and you send it to Washington DC and it's put in a stack with all the other cards of that color. And in the end whoever has the tallest stack of cards wins. 152 red cards? Awesome. 153 blue cards? You lose, red. Every vote counts, every single solitary card makes a difference because it contributes to the whole stack.
But instead we have this -
Every state gets a bucket of water. Every person gets to put one drop of food coloring in the water, red or blue. In the end, some buckets are deep crimson or sapphire. Some buckets are decidedly fuchsia or plum shaded. But there are only two trucks to load the buckets in, so a fuchsia bucket get put in the same truck as a crimson one, and a plum buckets goes with the sapphires. 49 blue drops and 51 red drops? Is the exact equivalent as 100 red drops.
Seriously, how does anyone actually believe their individual vote matters?
I mean, sure, in some states you are going to have a very purple shade, and in that case your one drop might just make the difference between fuchsia and plum . . . but then there's Utah, and all the other states like it. The states that get 99 red (or blue) drops. And I'm supposed to believe that my one red drop will make the bucket any more crimson? Or that my one blue drop will give it even the slightest hint of purple-ish-ness? No. It doesn't. Even a toddler could see that. So what's the point?
(this is the point where people with jump in with "but the local races!!!!!!!!" which in some places might strike me as a valid argument. but here . . . I don't see my vote making any difference in those races either)
It's twenty-freaking-twelve. How is this possible? Four years ago I was blown away by all the presidential commercials I was seeing on tv. I'd never seen one before. I was twenty-four years old and I honestly hadn't even known they existed before that year. I don't remember what I thought, you hear all the talk about having to give candidates equal airtime and regulations and whatever, and I guess I just figured commercials weren't allowed for presidential candidates because they got all the air time on the news and such.
And then this year. Not in Florida anymore, something seemed off for the longest time and I couldn't place it until a couple of months ago. The commercials were gone. Not a single presidential commercial to be seen. Anywhere. Meanwhile, today is the first day in who knows how many months that people in Ohio have seen a commercial that wasn't political. And I'm supposed to think this is okay? I don't think so.
And then there was watching the results come in last night. Which I'd never done before, but Luke wanted to so we made pizza-and-a-movie night into pizza-and-the-news night. Going in I did have a bit of a clue what was going on, in fact I'd heard on the radio yesterday morning that Ohio, Virginia, and Florida were the keys and if Romney didn't get at least one of them he didn't have a prayer. So we're watching, and none of those three have come in and then all the sudden Ohio comes in and somehow it's all over and done with and I'm like "wait a second, he could still get one of the others" but no, apparently they didn't actually matter either. I mean, they hadn't even finished counting . . . even in those states that just twelve hours ago had been so critical. The votes in those states could literally not have been counted and it wouldn't have changed a thing - and they're supposed to be the ones who count the most! (and let's just ignore the hypocrisy in the fact that a statement like that could even exist in a country that supposedly believes "all men are created equal.")
Of course, there's also the part where the polls weren't even closed in Alaska and Hawaii when the whole thing was declared officially over. So, you know, go on home guys. It's not like we need you or anything, you know? We're not waiting until it's 5:00 in the morning in New York to find out who wins!
Someday, heaven willing, we want to live in a state where it's a matter of a fuchsia bucket versus a plum bucket, rather than crimson versus sapphire. Then? I will vote, and gladly. Until then . . . I see no point.
P. ost S. cript
I decided to go ahead and hit that orange button . . . so here's a palate cleanser before you all tell me what a terrible person I am. (fun fact: I have actually met a slightly disturbing number of people with these very names!)
Anyway.
I didn't vote yesterday. I didn't vote early. I didn't vote at all.
It's not because I don't care. It's not that I didn't know who to vote for. It's not even because I didn't want to. (okay, it kind of is that last one. a little.)
It's because there is absolutely nothing in the world more pointless than voting in Utah.
Nothing.
I know I'm far from the first person to rant about the electoral college and it's uselessness and the way it nullifies more than half the votes cast . . . but it really drives me nuts to think that such an archaic, deliberately biased system is still in place.
I mean, think about it. In a rational world, a world where American politicians elected to offices higher than, oh, mayor-ish were capable of thinking of anything other than themselves it would work like this (metaphorically speaking): everyone would get a card. Red or blue. Or green or orange or pink because in this world those other cards would actually be relevant. You pick the color you want and you send it to Washington DC and it's put in a stack with all the other cards of that color. And in the end whoever has the tallest stack of cards wins. 152 red cards? Awesome. 153 blue cards? You lose, red. Every vote counts, every single solitary card makes a difference because it contributes to the whole stack.
But instead we have this -
Every state gets a bucket of water. Every person gets to put one drop of food coloring in the water, red or blue. In the end, some buckets are deep crimson or sapphire. Some buckets are decidedly fuchsia or plum shaded. But there are only two trucks to load the buckets in, so a fuchsia bucket get put in the same truck as a crimson one, and a plum buckets goes with the sapphires. 49 blue drops and 51 red drops? Is the exact equivalent as 100 red drops.
Seriously, how does anyone actually believe their individual vote matters?
I mean, sure, in some states you are going to have a very purple shade, and in that case your one drop might just make the difference between fuchsia and plum . . . but then there's Utah, and all the other states like it. The states that get 99 red (or blue) drops. And I'm supposed to believe that my one red drop will make the bucket any more crimson? Or that my one blue drop will give it even the slightest hint of purple-ish-ness? No. It doesn't. Even a toddler could see that. So what's the point?
(this is the point where people with jump in with "but the local races!!!!!!!!" which in some places might strike me as a valid argument. but here . . . I don't see my vote making any difference in those races either)
It's twenty-freaking-twelve. How is this possible? Four years ago I was blown away by all the presidential commercials I was seeing on tv. I'd never seen one before. I was twenty-four years old and I honestly hadn't even known they existed before that year. I don't remember what I thought, you hear all the talk about having to give candidates equal airtime and regulations and whatever, and I guess I just figured commercials weren't allowed for presidential candidates because they got all the air time on the news and such.
And then this year. Not in Florida anymore, something seemed off for the longest time and I couldn't place it until a couple of months ago. The commercials were gone. Not a single presidential commercial to be seen. Anywhere. Meanwhile, today is the first day in who knows how many months that people in Ohio have seen a commercial that wasn't political. And I'm supposed to think this is okay? I don't think so.
And then there was watching the results come in last night. Which I'd never done before, but Luke wanted to so we made pizza-and-a-movie night into pizza-and-the-news night. Going in I did have a bit of a clue what was going on, in fact I'd heard on the radio yesterday morning that Ohio, Virginia, and Florida were the keys and if Romney didn't get at least one of them he didn't have a prayer. So we're watching, and none of those three have come in and then all the sudden Ohio comes in and somehow it's all over and done with and I'm like "wait a second, he could still get one of the others" but no, apparently they didn't actually matter either. I mean, they hadn't even finished counting . . . even in those states that just twelve hours ago had been so critical. The votes in those states could literally not have been counted and it wouldn't have changed a thing - and they're supposed to be the ones who count the most! (and let's just ignore the hypocrisy in the fact that a statement like that could even exist in a country that supposedly believes "all men are created equal.")
Of course, there's also the part where the polls weren't even closed in Alaska and Hawaii when the whole thing was declared officially over. So, you know, go on home guys. It's not like we need you or anything, you know? We're not waiting until it's 5:00 in the morning in New York to find out who wins!
Someday, heaven willing, we want to live in a state where it's a matter of a fuchsia bucket versus a plum bucket, rather than crimson versus sapphire. Then? I will vote, and gladly. Until then . . . I see no point.
P. ost S. cript
I decided to go ahead and hit that orange button . . . so here's a palate cleanser before you all tell me what a terrible person I am. (fun fact: I have actually met a slightly disturbing number of people with these very names!)
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
This is the Part I've Been Dreading
So it turns out when you're one of the grown-ups and they split the ward and have to replace all the people that are gone . . . you're, like, one of the ones they use to replace those people.
In other news, I am now the Primary Secretary. And it's pretty much the most "important" calling I've had since Laurel class president.
(disclaimer the first: yeah, yeah, all callings are important and all that jazz. You know what I mean.)
I . . . am kinda slightly intimidated. I mean, I know it's just the kids and whatever. But eleven-year-olds are a bit harder to satisfy than toddlers. And quite frankly I would have been rather content staying in nursery for quite some time. Snack time, play time, and lessons about sharing instead of thinly veiled political arguments. Admit it, I had you all at snack time. :-)
On the other hand, I don't have to go back to Relief Society . . . and I have to admit I don't particularly care for this ward's. After four and half months of introducing myself every. single. week. going into nursery was quite the relief. And it was every week - someone would come and say "oh, are you new? Is this your first week?" and I'd be all "well, we're new but it's our third month here," and they'd be all surprised and stuff and it was the same people introducing themselves every week and I wouldn't have minded if they had been saying things like "I know I've seen you here before but I don't remember your name" but there was seriously no recognition at all. At all. I'd be introducing myself to the same person for the third time in six weeks and absolutely no shred of acknowledgment that Id ever been seen before whatsoever. No ringing bells at the sound of my name. No "aha!" moment when I mention that, yes, I did stand up and introduce myself to everyone - clear back in April. Nothing.
I mean, it's not like I was expecting everyone to remember my entire life story - but am I really that forgettable?
Don't answer that.
Anyway . . . yeah. Secretary. I? Am not secretarial. No idea what I'm doing. And the primary program is next week. And I'm going to have to do, like lessons, right? Like, sharing time? With everybody? And it's just me up there? Yeah I see NOOOOOOOOO way that could possibly go cataclysmically wrong. < end sarcasm >
On the plus side, it's not like it's a particularly visible calling if you know what I mean. Except, you know, the part where the primary program is this Sunday. And I'll probably end up sitting up there with all these kids I've never spoken too and don't know any names and all the parents will be expecting me to keep them in line and know when to pull which one up for their part and I don't have a clue which one's Jonny and which one's Sally so I'll look utterly incompetent and they'll all be hounding the bishop to release that terrible secretary . . . who hasn't even spent a single minute in primary yet.
(actually . . . maybe that's not an all bad scenario, lol?)
One more thing - my Teen Girl Squad bag isn't too sacrilegious to use as a church bag, is it? Because it would be a whole lot easier to just let my library bag do double duty than to try and find another one I like. Stick figures aren't sacrilegious, are they?
(disclaimer the second: I'm not complaining, just super nervous and intimidated.)
P. ost S. cript
Never fails - when you need something to laugh at you re-post this one. And remember how I actually know the girl in the blue dress. Like, personally. We're facebook friends and everything. :-) (she's blonde in real life . . . bet you never would have guessed, huh?)
In other news, I am now the Primary Secretary. And it's pretty much the most "important" calling I've had since Laurel class president.
(disclaimer the first: yeah, yeah, all callings are important and all that jazz. You know what I mean.)
I . . . am kinda slightly intimidated. I mean, I know it's just the kids and whatever. But eleven-year-olds are a bit harder to satisfy than toddlers. And quite frankly I would have been rather content staying in nursery for quite some time. Snack time, play time, and lessons about sharing instead of thinly veiled political arguments. Admit it, I had you all at snack time. :-)
On the other hand, I don't have to go back to Relief Society . . . and I have to admit I don't particularly care for this ward's. After four and half months of introducing myself every. single. week. going into nursery was quite the relief. And it was every week - someone would come and say "oh, are you new? Is this your first week?" and I'd be all "well, we're new but it's our third month here," and they'd be all surprised and stuff and it was the same people introducing themselves every week and I wouldn't have minded if they had been saying things like "I know I've seen you here before but I don't remember your name" but there was seriously no recognition at all. At all. I'd be introducing myself to the same person for the third time in six weeks and absolutely no shred of acknowledgment that Id ever been seen before whatsoever. No ringing bells at the sound of my name. No "aha!" moment when I mention that, yes, I did stand up and introduce myself to everyone - clear back in April. Nothing.
I mean, it's not like I was expecting everyone to remember my entire life story - but am I really that forgettable?
Don't answer that.
Anyway . . . yeah. Secretary. I? Am not secretarial. No idea what I'm doing. And the primary program is next week. And I'm going to have to do, like lessons, right? Like, sharing time? With everybody? And it's just me up there? Yeah I see NOOOOOOOOO way that could possibly go cataclysmically wrong. < end sarcasm >
On the plus side, it's not like it's a particularly visible calling if you know what I mean. Except, you know, the part where the primary program is this Sunday. And I'll probably end up sitting up there with all these kids I've never spoken too and don't know any names and all the parents will be expecting me to keep them in line and know when to pull which one up for their part and I don't have a clue which one's Jonny and which one's Sally so I'll look utterly incompetent and they'll all be hounding the bishop to release that terrible secretary . . . who hasn't even spent a single minute in primary yet.
(actually . . . maybe that's not an all bad scenario, lol?)
One more thing - my Teen Girl Squad bag isn't too sacrilegious to use as a church bag, is it? Because it would be a whole lot easier to just let my library bag do double duty than to try and find another one I like. Stick figures aren't sacrilegious, are they?
(disclaimer the second: I'm not complaining, just super nervous and intimidated.)
P. ost S. cript
Never fails - when you need something to laugh at you re-post this one. And remember how I actually know the girl in the blue dress. Like, personally. We're facebook friends and everything. :-) (she's blonde in real life . . . bet you never would have guessed, huh?)
Monday, June 18, 2012
The Cake . . . er, Town . . . is a Lie
Did you think you were done reading my Twi-rants? Well . . . sort of. Actually, I'm not entirely sure what today's rant is about - just that something needs to be ranted.
Have you heard of 50 Shades of Grey? It *might* be the most terrible book ever written. Seriously. It is never-supposed-to-be-published-and-see-the-light-of-day bad. And it wasn't - supposed to see the light of day, I mean. Other than the deepest, darkest bowels of the internet.
For the lucky uninitiated, 50 Shades started out as Twilight fanfiction by someone who was bitter bout the lack of explicit sex scenes in the originals. So they wrote all the varying levels of dirty things they wished Bella and Edward had in the first place and put it online. And you know that episode of Friends where Joey writes a letter of recommendation to the adoption agency for Chandler and Monica? In places it reads more or less like that. I haven't read it myself, but I have been made aware of a website that posts small excerpts that demonstrate just how unreadable this thing is. Where Twilight could have been vastly improved by a couple more rounds with an editor, its knock-off needed a complete tear-down-and-just-start-over treatment. I would include quotes, but honestly the most unreadable bits are also the most not-appropriate-to-put-on-a-blog-my-grandparents-read. Of course, they're also the most thesaurus-ed to death . . . some to the point that you can't even tell what's going on until you run it through a thesaurus yourself to translate it back into what it originally said. And somehow it got so popular in those deep, dark internet bowels that the powers that really shouldn't be anymore decided it should be published. As is. So they ran it through a computer program that changed all instances of "Edward" and "Bella" to . . . I don't know, whatever the names are in the published version. And then sent it directly off to the publisher. And somehow it became the biggest thing among middle-aged women since . . . well, Twilight.
Which brings me to the source of my rant - which might actually be more of a "can someone make it stop being crazy????" sort of plea.
As of a few days ago, 50 Shades of Grey was the most requested title at the library in this town. The mind, she is boggled. If you had asked me before I saw the list on the library website I would have been willing to bet big money that our library didn't even have a copy. Much less four. Much less that if I were to put it on hold today I would be looking at a three month wait to get it. And then 3 more months a piece for each sequel. Because oh yes, there's more of them.
The thing I can't wrap my head around though - who's reading it here? It's widely known to be erotic vampire fiction with extreme BDSM content. It even mentions the erotic part on the library website, which I guess I always figured was more or less a kiss of death for a book in Utah. It's just not the sort of thing you envision sitting on everyone's coffee table around here . . . which, I suppose, is why everyone has it on hold at the library. They all want to read it, but you can bet there won't be cheers and claps when the movie release is included in the important weekly events announcements in Relief Society (actually happened with Twilight in the single's ward in Florida). It's hard to believe such a book could possibly be popular in a place like this, but I have to admit it's a little amusing to wonder which of these apparently perfectly content, perfectly put together, lovely ladies I see everywhere I go are secretly reading the most popular porn since the Kama Sutra (which, as I've been told, isn't actually porn, but I haven't read it. I've only eaten the ice cream, lol). Like I said, I can't wrap my head around it - it's a such a contradictory thought!
I mean, I really can't blame them for getting sucked into a book or series - there are three book releases I'm currently counting down to - but I have to wonder why anyone would choose one so poorly written. Maybe I'm just a book snob. (who are we kidding, I am a book snob.) And I can't help but think of this. 2:29? Sums it all up. But that, like, doesn't happen in Utah. You know? It's not a lecture you hear repeated every six months at the girl broadcasts before conference, just the priesthood session.
In conclusion . . . I am not living in the town I thought I was. And it's a little weird.
P. ost S. cript
Totally counting down to the Olympics next month. Also - totally trying to pretend this wasn't almost 20 years ago. Things I remember - quite clearly - are not allowed to have happened that long ago.
Have you heard of 50 Shades of Grey? It *might* be the most terrible book ever written. Seriously. It is never-supposed-to-be-published-and-see-the-light-of-day bad. And it wasn't - supposed to see the light of day, I mean. Other than the deepest, darkest bowels of the internet.
For the lucky uninitiated, 50 Shades started out as Twilight fanfiction by someone who was bitter bout the lack of explicit sex scenes in the originals. So they wrote all the varying levels of dirty things they wished Bella and Edward had in the first place and put it online. And you know that episode of Friends where Joey writes a letter of recommendation to the adoption agency for Chandler and Monica? In places it reads more or less like that. I haven't read it myself, but I have been made aware of a website that posts small excerpts that demonstrate just how unreadable this thing is. Where Twilight could have been vastly improved by a couple more rounds with an editor, its knock-off needed a complete tear-down-and-just-start-over treatment. I would include quotes, but honestly the most unreadable bits are also the most not-appropriate-to-put-on-a-blog-my-grandparents-read. Of course, they're also the most thesaurus-ed to death . . . some to the point that you can't even tell what's going on until you run it through a thesaurus yourself to translate it back into what it originally said. And somehow it got so popular in those deep, dark internet bowels that the powers that really shouldn't be anymore decided it should be published. As is. So they ran it through a computer program that changed all instances of "Edward" and "Bella" to . . . I don't know, whatever the names are in the published version. And then sent it directly off to the publisher. And somehow it became the biggest thing among middle-aged women since . . . well, Twilight.
Which brings me to the source of my rant - which might actually be more of a "can someone make it stop being crazy????" sort of plea.
As of a few days ago, 50 Shades of Grey was the most requested title at the library in this town. The mind, she is boggled. If you had asked me before I saw the list on the library website I would have been willing to bet big money that our library didn't even have a copy. Much less four. Much less that if I were to put it on hold today I would be looking at a three month wait to get it. And then 3 more months a piece for each sequel. Because oh yes, there's more of them.
The thing I can't wrap my head around though - who's reading it here? It's widely known to be erotic vampire fiction with extreme BDSM content. It even mentions the erotic part on the library website, which I guess I always figured was more or less a kiss of death for a book in Utah. It's just not the sort of thing you envision sitting on everyone's coffee table around here . . . which, I suppose, is why everyone has it on hold at the library. They all want to read it, but you can bet there won't be cheers and claps when the movie release is included in the important weekly events announcements in Relief Society (actually happened with Twilight in the single's ward in Florida). It's hard to believe such a book could possibly be popular in a place like this, but I have to admit it's a little amusing to wonder which of these apparently perfectly content, perfectly put together, lovely ladies I see everywhere I go are secretly reading the most popular porn since the Kama Sutra (which, as I've been told, isn't actually porn, but I haven't read it. I've only eaten the ice cream, lol). Like I said, I can't wrap my head around it - it's a such a contradictory thought!
I mean, I really can't blame them for getting sucked into a book or series - there are three book releases I'm currently counting down to - but I have to wonder why anyone would choose one so poorly written. Maybe I'm just a book snob. (who are we kidding, I am a book snob.) And I can't help but think of this. 2:29? Sums it all up. But that, like, doesn't happen in Utah. You know? It's not a lecture you hear repeated every six months at the girl broadcasts before conference, just the priesthood session.
In conclusion . . . I am not living in the town I thought I was. And it's a little weird.
P. ost S. cript
Totally counting down to the Olympics next month. Also - totally trying to pretend this wasn't almost 20 years ago. Things I remember - quite clearly - are not allowed to have happened that long ago.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Looking for Something to Say
Ever have that feeling that you want to talk to someone but you just can't think of anything to say? That pretty much explains my blog absence for the last little while, which a few people have mentioned/questioned. Sorry, it's just been one great big "I've have nothing to add to that" moment around here. I still love the kids at school (except for the days when I can't stand them), there's nothing monumental going on in our lives (unless you count Luke's schedule changing so he gets off at 10 instead of midnight, which we see as kind of a big deal), and I haven't had any particularly philosophical moments to ramble on about (a side effect of end-of-the-year burnout, I'm thinking).
So I suppose this post is mostly just to assure everyone that we're still alive . . . and also (just a little) to celebrate the wonderful feeling you get when you discover that lots of people agree with you on something when you thought you were the only one who felt that way. Shockingly, I'm not in the mood to rant (I must be really burned out!) but maybe I will be by the time comments start rolling in, lol.
Anyway. I shall just make my two little points and leave you all to duke it out. Or unfollow me, as the case may be. (although I hope that doesn't happen!)
I totally agree with this, it's kind of really horrible and probably is going to do more harm than good in the long run. And some people really need to get this kind of grip on reality and stop judging people they don't even know.
And this? Unnecessary, disrespectful to the artist, and more than a little hypocritical.
Well . . . it'll be nice to see who still talks to me this time next week, lol.
P. ost S. cript
Title says it all. The mind, she is boggled.
So I suppose this post is mostly just to assure everyone that we're still alive . . . and also (just a little) to celebrate the wonderful feeling you get when you discover that lots of people agree with you on something when you thought you were the only one who felt that way. Shockingly, I'm not in the mood to rant (I must be really burned out!) but maybe I will be by the time comments start rolling in, lol.
Anyway. I shall just make my two little points and leave you all to duke it out. Or unfollow me, as the case may be. (although I hope that doesn't happen!)
I totally agree with this, it's kind of really horrible and probably is going to do more harm than good in the long run. And some people really need to get this kind of grip on reality and stop judging people they don't even know.
And this? Unnecessary, disrespectful to the artist, and more than a little hypocritical.
Well . . . it'll be nice to see who still talks to me this time next week, lol.
P. ost S. cript
Title says it all. The mind, she is boggled.
Monday, June 27, 2011
24
Dy 24 ~ Your favorite quote or verse of scripture and why.
I believe I've mentioned this before, but my favorite anything changes depending on the day and the mood I'm in and about a zillion other factors. So I'm just going to to peruse through my lists of quotes on facebook and pinterest (you know you want to!) and give you the ones that particularly strike me today. And there's your "why." Woot.
"It is our choices that show us who we truly are, far more than our abilities."
~Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
(was that showing off? oh well.)
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."
~ Plato
"A person who won't read has no advantage over one who can't read."
~ Mark Twain
"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity."
~ Edgar Allan Poe
"Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you."
~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
"Electric communication will never be a substitute for the face of someone who with their soul encourages another person to be brave and true."
~ Charles Dickens
"The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid."
~ Jane Austen
"God is a comedian, playing to an audience too afraid to laugh."
~ Voltaire
"I do not agree with what you have to say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it."
~ Voltaire
"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."
~ Gandhi
"Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blind-folded fear."
~ Thomas Jefferson
"The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing."
~ Socrates
"Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important."
~ C. S. Lewis
"A room without books is like a body without a soul."
~ Cicero
And perhaps best of all:
"The trouble with quotes on the internet is that you can never know if they are genuine."
~ Abraham Lincoln
(Please note: as far as I know these are all legit. Well, all but one. I'll let you guess which one that is.)
P. ost S. cript
To quote a Robin Williams character (and I've got a thousand points for the person who can name the movie!) "Gravity works!"
I believe I've mentioned this before, but my favorite anything changes depending on the day and the mood I'm in and about a zillion other factors. So I'm just going to to peruse through my lists of quotes on facebook and pinterest (you know you want to!) and give you the ones that particularly strike me today. And there's your "why." Woot.
"It is our choices that show us who we truly are, far more than our abilities."
~Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
(was that showing off? oh well.)
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."
~ Plato
"A person who won't read has no advantage over one who can't read."
~ Mark Twain
"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity."
~ Edgar Allan Poe
"Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you."
~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
"Electric communication will never be a substitute for the face of someone who with their soul encourages another person to be brave and true."
~ Charles Dickens
"The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid."
~ Jane Austen
"God is a comedian, playing to an audience too afraid to laugh."
~ Voltaire
"I do not agree with what you have to say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it."
~ Voltaire
"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."
~ Gandhi
"Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blind-folded fear."
~ Thomas Jefferson
"The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing."
~ Socrates
"Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important."
~ C. S. Lewis
"A room without books is like a body without a soul."
~ Cicero
And perhaps best of all:
"The trouble with quotes on the internet is that you can never know if they are genuine."
~ Abraham Lincoln
(Please note: as far as I know these are all legit. Well, all but one. I'll let you guess which one that is.)
P. ost S. cript
To quote a Robin Williams character (and I've got a thousand points for the person who can name the movie!) "Gravity works!"
Friday, April 15, 2011
Laden with Happiness and Tears
Ten points if you can name the song/musical.
So I'm sitting here right now just about ready to cry my eyes out, mostly from stress. And as cathartic as that will be (because let's face it, I'll get around to it sometime tonight) I'm not quite ready for it now. Which means that you all get stories from my week to make you laugh and cry . . . at least in theory.
So Monday was the first day back to school after spring break. The last day of school before spring break was April Fool's Day. Keep that in mind. Anyway, it's lunchtime for everybody, and I've got a bit of a break and I head to the bathroom. As I'm closing the door I notice there's someone in there, which is a little startling, since I figured the place was empty because, you know, that door was unlocked. So I gasp a little and I'm about to apologize and back out when I realize that this person is decidedly NOT someone I work with. Gray, gross, wrinkly face, freaky eyes, freaky facial expression, and those Victorian style/steam punk/goth-ish clothes - you know the type. Seriously, out of my Unsolved Mysteries nightmares!
So, naturally, my first thought is more or less "oh crap, some creeper has sneaked into the school and into the teacher's rest room just to wait for some unsuspecting female like me to come in and chloroform them or something and I'm going to DIE! Yeah, that's more or less what went through my head in about 3 seconds . . . only not quite that articulate. Then my thoughts caught up to the rest of my brain and I realized it was just a creepy Halloween statue, presumably an April Fool's Day prank that was forgotten over the break. Thankfully, I'm not really one to scream when I'm scared - otherwise I probably would not have recovered my voice yet. And I don't even want to think about the new reputation I would have acquired for myself . . . because they would have heard me in the basement. No, when I'm scared I tend fall under a sort of paralysis, which is generally short-lived, but long enough to not bode well should I ever find myself in real danger akin to the kind I thought I was in for those three seconds.
So after a couple more seconds I can move, but I still just stand there seriously considering walking out and using the other bathroom because this thing is just too creepy. However, my crippling self-consciousness won out and I couldn't bare the thought that even one person would see me and wonder about why I walked out of one and right into the other. So there I am . . . well, you know . . . and the whole time I'm warily watching Mr. Creepy half expecting the thing to suddenly start moving - either because it really is an actual person (completely illogical, and I realized that even as a part of my mind tried to insist it was possible, but I've never claimed to be a very logical thinker) or because of some delayed reaction motion sensor. And maybe it's just the whole two years of living in a world where audio animatronics are all over the place (I'm pretty sure some WDW guests think CMs are highly advanced animatronics . . . ) but I just could not convince myself that that one wasn't impossible.
I can't say I enjoyed it, but now - 4 days later and safe (I think!) in my own apartment I am giggling a little bit because, well, it is kind of amusing. Well played, whoever thought of that. Well played. (but not as good as your brown "E's" Katie, lol!)
And now a bit of a sob story. A very complicated sob story . . . in case you haven't guessed already, this is going to be a long post today - kudos in advance to those of you who make it through. :-)
Anyway.
So we're still in the process of moving, but it's been coming along a bit faster than we'd been imagining. So we decided that Saturday (i.e., tomorrow) we would finish up and sleep at the new place for the first time. Don't you just love plans? Me too! That's probably why they never quite work out the way you plan. Obviously, moving out completely involves moving our bed. Which kind of requires more than the little cars we have. But Luke is a convert and I am, as we all know, a spaz, so while one of our home teachers offered up his truck when we were ready a month ago, we didn't actually call him until yesterday (Thursday, for those of you keeping score). Naturally, he's working all day Saturday so that doesn't work . . . "but I could totally do it now." And Luke says yes. Now, this was about 7:00 last night, and I had been planning on heading back over to the old place in another hour or so to go to sleep, so of course silly little unimportant things like PJs, towels, and morning toiletries are all over there. So I hurry over to get what we need and it's just like going on vacation: I think so very carefully and go through my whole routine in my head and I'm pretty absolutely certain that I have everything we'll need for the next 12 hours or so. But no. I forgot . . . *drum roll* . . . food. We've moved a bit of our kitchen stuff, but not all. Canned foods . . . but not the can opener. Pasta . . . but not the pots and pans. You know. And I forgot to grab my box of pop tarts, my go-to breakfast for weekday mornings. Chik-fil-A never tasted so good as it did this afternoon.
Anyway. Back to last night. Well, actually a bit farther. Some of you may recall my facebook poll about whether we should go to Jason's Deli or In-N-Out on our bi-annual excursion to Layton. (It's really obnoxious that that is the closest Kay Jewelers, but on the other hand it gives us an excuse to get out of town every so often and the change of scene is always so nice. For those who care - we ended up taking the recommendations for Five Guys. It's good, but nothing stellar. Anyway.) So we're driving my little neon and as we're coming out of Sardine Canyon it starts shuddering. More and more. So we decide we better pull over soon. We get caught at the first light out of Sardine and it starts shuddering so bad I wasn't sure we were going to make it to the Walmart parking lot we'd decided to shoot for. But as soon as the light changed and we started going again things were better. Still shuddering, but better. Another light, and it gets all violent again, and we were barely able to limp in the parking lot. Long story short we got it to our awesomely dependable and trustworthy mechanic that we're so glad we found, he couldn't figure out what was wrong, but he cleaned out some air filter or other and it seemed to be running fine, but he didn't charge us anything because he said flat out he wasn't sure he'd actually fixed it. So we drove it home and things seemed okay.
For three weeks. Then last night, when I started my car after picking up the PJs and stuff it shuddered starting up. And while I wasn't especially worried about making it to the other end of town, it was definitely bucking a little again at the lights. We're pretty sure it will make it to Tremonton to our mechanic, and we decided to just not drive it until we can get over there sometime next week. So this morning I took our new car to work. And brought it back home. And Luke and I went to Chik-fil-A. And then I took Luke to work. All along with no problems whatsoever from the car. And then I went to the old place and spent an hour loading it up. And got in. And turned the key.
ZAP-ZAP-POP!!
nothing.
zilch.
nada.
I turn the key and turn the key and I don't even get the little dying cough of an attempt to turn over. No reaction at all. I even wondered for half a second if I was actually turning the key. At this point I'm halfway between freaking out and thinking somewhat calmly about what to do next. And let me tell you, that's an odd feeling. Anyway, I pull out my phone and start going through my phone book thinking who I should start with - who's most likely to be home and available at 4:00 on a Friday afternoon. I go through almost every number I have of people in our (old) ward. No answers. A little surprising, but honestly not that shocking. Of course I could call my dad . . . but I kind of don't want to have to wait an hour before help arrives, especially since I emptied out the freezer this time around. But I put the bag of stuff back in the freezer, and start in on the family numbers. Luck, or something, finally strikes and Ashli is home and able to get a hold of a friend of hers who comes over and takes a look at the spark plugs and fuses and apparently they look fine and I tell him my story and he thinks it's a starter problem, but there's nothing he can do right there. Blargh. And Ashli offers her car so I'm not stranded at the place that's the more empty - conveniently enough, she was on her way to Providence anyway - and I call dad and make arrangements to borrow a car until we can get at least one of ours fixed so now we have one of their cars for (hopefully) not long and instead of the two trips I'd planned on making today it'll be two or three tomorrow to get everything else into our new place and I'm coming down from about a 3-hour stint of heightened emotional . . . whatever that's been pushed down so I can deal with what has to be handled calmly all the while being frustrated especially because Luke doesn't even know about the whole thing (well, he does now . . . he called in the middle of this writing, which is part of the reason why it's taken me a couple of hours to get it all down) and really the whole thing would be so much easier if we could just do the whole "being a team" thing instead of me having to do it all myself and really, can't the part where life is just a cakewalk all the time start already?
*sigh*
On the other hand I'm trying to take the whole "this too shall pass" take on it. And I suppose I'm appreciating . . . well, I think it's irony. I'm not one to get all "churchy" on the blogoshpere (although I hope that doesn't cause anyone to wonder about my religiousness), but some very few of you may recall that at the end of 2009 we were having some major chronic car issues. So as 2010 started we prayed long and hard and specifically for some freedom from car troubles. Perhaps too specifically. We asked for a year of no car issues, and unless you count Luke getting rear-ended back in July and the problems caused (which I don't, since it was an outside force messing with the car, not the car dying of its own accord) it was almost 14 months to the day of problem-free-ness when my car crapped out in Brigham last month. Note to self: start being less specific in prayers. At least in car prayers.
So . . . ummm . . . yeah. The chorus of this song? And this one? Pretty much sum up our life perfectly right now. I want to complain, but I kinda can't.
Of course, all prayers, crossed fingers, rain dances, voodoo rituals, etc. in support of cheap car repairs would be awesome. Between both my parents and Ashli's friend the taurus has had at least three dozen diagnoses, ranging from something that dad can fix for a plate of brownies to something that will cost an arm, leg, and our first, second, and third born. Good times.
P. ost S. cript
Ok, now I feel better. At least this hasn't happened to us . . . yet.
So I'm sitting here right now just about ready to cry my eyes out, mostly from stress. And as cathartic as that will be (because let's face it, I'll get around to it sometime tonight) I'm not quite ready for it now. Which means that you all get stories from my week to make you laugh and cry . . . at least in theory.
So Monday was the first day back to school after spring break. The last day of school before spring break was April Fool's Day. Keep that in mind. Anyway, it's lunchtime for everybody, and I've got a bit of a break and I head to the bathroom. As I'm closing the door I notice there's someone in there, which is a little startling, since I figured the place was empty because, you know, that door was unlocked. So I gasp a little and I'm about to apologize and back out when I realize that this person is decidedly NOT someone I work with. Gray, gross, wrinkly face, freaky eyes, freaky facial expression, and those Victorian style/steam punk/goth-ish clothes - you know the type. Seriously, out of my Unsolved Mysteries nightmares!
So, naturally, my first thought is more or less "oh crap, some creeper has sneaked into the school and into the teacher's rest room just to wait for some unsuspecting female like me to come in and chloroform them or something and I'm going to DIE! Yeah, that's more or less what went through my head in about 3 seconds . . . only not quite that articulate. Then my thoughts caught up to the rest of my brain and I realized it was just a creepy Halloween statue, presumably an April Fool's Day prank that was forgotten over the break. Thankfully, I'm not really one to scream when I'm scared - otherwise I probably would not have recovered my voice yet. And I don't even want to think about the new reputation I would have acquired for myself . . . because they would have heard me in the basement. No, when I'm scared I tend fall under a sort of paralysis, which is generally short-lived, but long enough to not bode well should I ever find myself in real danger akin to the kind I thought I was in for those three seconds.
So after a couple more seconds I can move, but I still just stand there seriously considering walking out and using the other bathroom because this thing is just too creepy. However, my crippling self-consciousness won out and I couldn't bare the thought that even one person would see me and wonder about why I walked out of one and right into the other. So there I am . . . well, you know . . . and the whole time I'm warily watching Mr. Creepy half expecting the thing to suddenly start moving - either because it really is an actual person (completely illogical, and I realized that even as a part of my mind tried to insist it was possible, but I've never claimed to be a very logical thinker) or because of some delayed reaction motion sensor. And maybe it's just the whole two years of living in a world where audio animatronics are all over the place (I'm pretty sure some WDW guests think CMs are highly advanced animatronics . . . ) but I just could not convince myself that that one wasn't impossible.
I can't say I enjoyed it, but now - 4 days later and safe (I think!) in my own apartment I am giggling a little bit because, well, it is kind of amusing. Well played, whoever thought of that. Well played. (but not as good as your brown "E's" Katie, lol!)
And now a bit of a sob story. A very complicated sob story . . . in case you haven't guessed already, this is going to be a long post today - kudos in advance to those of you who make it through. :-)
Anyway.
So we're still in the process of moving, but it's been coming along a bit faster than we'd been imagining. So we decided that Saturday (i.e., tomorrow) we would finish up and sleep at the new place for the first time. Don't you just love plans? Me too! That's probably why they never quite work out the way you plan. Obviously, moving out completely involves moving our bed. Which kind of requires more than the little cars we have. But Luke is a convert and I am, as we all know, a spaz, so while one of our home teachers offered up his truck when we were ready a month ago, we didn't actually call him until yesterday (Thursday, for those of you keeping score). Naturally, he's working all day Saturday so that doesn't work . . . "but I could totally do it now." And Luke says yes. Now, this was about 7:00 last night, and I had been planning on heading back over to the old place in another hour or so to go to sleep, so of course silly little unimportant things like PJs, towels, and morning toiletries are all over there. So I hurry over to get what we need and it's just like going on vacation: I think so very carefully and go through my whole routine in my head and I'm pretty absolutely certain that I have everything we'll need for the next 12 hours or so. But no. I forgot . . . *drum roll* . . . food. We've moved a bit of our kitchen stuff, but not all. Canned foods . . . but not the can opener. Pasta . . . but not the pots and pans. You know. And I forgot to grab my box of pop tarts, my go-to breakfast for weekday mornings. Chik-fil-A never tasted so good as it did this afternoon.
Anyway. Back to last night. Well, actually a bit farther. Some of you may recall my facebook poll about whether we should go to Jason's Deli or In-N-Out on our bi-annual excursion to Layton. (It's really obnoxious that that is the closest Kay Jewelers, but on the other hand it gives us an excuse to get out of town every so often and the change of scene is always so nice. For those who care - we ended up taking the recommendations for Five Guys. It's good, but nothing stellar. Anyway.) So we're driving my little neon and as we're coming out of Sardine Canyon it starts shuddering. More and more. So we decide we better pull over soon. We get caught at the first light out of Sardine and it starts shuddering so bad I wasn't sure we were going to make it to the Walmart parking lot we'd decided to shoot for. But as soon as the light changed and we started going again things were better. Still shuddering, but better. Another light, and it gets all violent again, and we were barely able to limp in the parking lot. Long story short we got it to our awesomely dependable and trustworthy mechanic that we're so glad we found, he couldn't figure out what was wrong, but he cleaned out some air filter or other and it seemed to be running fine, but he didn't charge us anything because he said flat out he wasn't sure he'd actually fixed it. So we drove it home and things seemed okay.
For three weeks. Then last night, when I started my car after picking up the PJs and stuff it shuddered starting up. And while I wasn't especially worried about making it to the other end of town, it was definitely bucking a little again at the lights. We're pretty sure it will make it to Tremonton to our mechanic, and we decided to just not drive it until we can get over there sometime next week. So this morning I took our new car to work. And brought it back home. And Luke and I went to Chik-fil-A. And then I took Luke to work. All along with no problems whatsoever from the car. And then I went to the old place and spent an hour loading it up. And got in. And turned the key.
ZAP-ZAP-POP!!
nothing.
zilch.
nada.
I turn the key and turn the key and I don't even get the little dying cough of an attempt to turn over. No reaction at all. I even wondered for half a second if I was actually turning the key. At this point I'm halfway between freaking out and thinking somewhat calmly about what to do next. And let me tell you, that's an odd feeling. Anyway, I pull out my phone and start going through my phone book thinking who I should start with - who's most likely to be home and available at 4:00 on a Friday afternoon. I go through almost every number I have of people in our (old) ward. No answers. A little surprising, but honestly not that shocking. Of course I could call my dad . . . but I kind of don't want to have to wait an hour before help arrives, especially since I emptied out the freezer this time around. But I put the bag of stuff back in the freezer, and start in on the family numbers. Luck, or something, finally strikes and Ashli is home and able to get a hold of a friend of hers who comes over and takes a look at the spark plugs and fuses and apparently they look fine and I tell him my story and he thinks it's a starter problem, but there's nothing he can do right there. Blargh. And Ashli offers her car so I'm not stranded at the place that's the more empty - conveniently enough, she was on her way to Providence anyway - and I call dad and make arrangements to borrow a car until we can get at least one of ours fixed so now we have one of their cars for (hopefully) not long and instead of the two trips I'd planned on making today it'll be two or three tomorrow to get everything else into our new place and I'm coming down from about a 3-hour stint of heightened emotional . . . whatever that's been pushed down so I can deal with what has to be handled calmly all the while being frustrated especially because Luke doesn't even know about the whole thing (well, he does now . . . he called in the middle of this writing, which is part of the reason why it's taken me a couple of hours to get it all down) and really the whole thing would be so much easier if we could just do the whole "being a team" thing instead of me having to do it all myself and really, can't the part where life is just a cakewalk all the time start already?
*sigh*
On the other hand I'm trying to take the whole "this too shall pass" take on it. And I suppose I'm appreciating . . . well, I think it's irony. I'm not one to get all "churchy" on the blogoshpere (although I hope that doesn't cause anyone to wonder about my religiousness), but some very few of you may recall that at the end of 2009 we were having some major chronic car issues. So as 2010 started we prayed long and hard and specifically for some freedom from car troubles. Perhaps too specifically. We asked for a year of no car issues, and unless you count Luke getting rear-ended back in July and the problems caused (which I don't, since it was an outside force messing with the car, not the car dying of its own accord) it was almost 14 months to the day of problem-free-ness when my car crapped out in Brigham last month. Note to self: start being less specific in prayers. At least in car prayers.
So . . . ummm . . . yeah. The chorus of this song? And this one? Pretty much sum up our life perfectly right now. I want to complain, but I kinda can't.
Of course, all prayers, crossed fingers, rain dances, voodoo rituals, etc. in support of cheap car repairs would be awesome. Between both my parents and Ashli's friend the taurus has had at least three dozen diagnoses, ranging from something that dad can fix for a plate of brownies to something that will cost an arm, leg, and our first, second, and third born. Good times.
P. ost S. cript
Ok, now I feel better. At least this hasn't happened to us . . . yet.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Cute Explosion
I'm the sacrament chorister in our ward. And I am quite content with that calling. It's simple, easy (for me, anyway) and doesn't require people to actually pay attention to me, so I don't freak out and go into panic attack mode like I would if I had to give a lesson or a talk or anything that involves me speaking solo and everyone else looking at me. Not cool.
So I have this theory that the sole purpose of the sacrament chorister is so that the few people who can't read music know when the intro is over and it;s time to start singing with everyone else and to psych everyone out by singing the extra verses. Seriously, I find few things more amusing than the sound of mumble-humming as people hurriedly re-open their hymnbooks as the chorister has gone on to the rarely sung fourth/fifth/sixth verse. Good times.
Anyway, there is an absolutely adorable baby who always sits in the front row at church and makes sitting in the second row thoroughly enjoyable. And today during one of the hymns I glance down to see him sitting on the bench waving one arm high in the air almost mimicking the 4/4 pattern I was conducting. How darling is that?!?! I consider pulling off the holding in of the giggles and continuing to sing to be a major achievement. :-)
On the other hand, there is bad news to this story - someone, clearly, is watching me while I'm up there. Granted, it's only one person, and granted that one is a seven (eight . . . six . . . help me out, Erin!)-month-old . . . but where there's one, there's bound to be more. Crap.
At least I'm not the RS pres. :-)
P. ost S. cript
I remain convinced that this method would work if one could call loud enough. I just haven't gotten there yet. :-)
So I have this theory that the sole purpose of the sacrament chorister is so that the few people who can't read music know when the intro is over and it;s time to start singing with everyone else and to psych everyone out by singing the extra verses. Seriously, I find few things more amusing than the sound of mumble-humming as people hurriedly re-open their hymnbooks as the chorister has gone on to the rarely sung fourth/fifth/sixth verse. Good times.
Anyway, there is an absolutely adorable baby who always sits in the front row at church and makes sitting in the second row thoroughly enjoyable. And today during one of the hymns I glance down to see him sitting on the bench waving one arm high in the air almost mimicking the 4/4 pattern I was conducting. How darling is that?!?! I consider pulling off the holding in of the giggles and continuing to sing to be a major achievement. :-)
On the other hand, there is bad news to this story - someone, clearly, is watching me while I'm up there. Granted, it's only one person, and granted that one is a seven (eight . . . six . . . help me out, Erin!)-month-old . . . but where there's one, there's bound to be more. Crap.
At least I'm not the RS pres. :-)
P. ost S. cript
I remain convinced that this method would work if one could call loud enough. I just haven't gotten there yet. :-)
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Quandries
So work is going pretty well. I've officially been there for a week now, and I'm thoroughly enjoying it. Best part? One of the second grade boys is constantly asking me when it will be his turn to work with me. (I pull them out of class one at a time for about ten minutes each for a little practice) Except, he's one of the "good" kids and doesn't need help, at least not with reading. But he won't take know for an answer, and keeps asking every day. Crushing? I'll let you decide. But between him and the fourth graders in the after school club, I'm kinda enjoying this feeling of being completely adored. :-)
Speaking of the fourth graders, I'm discovering a little bit of just how hard it must be to be a teacher of kids who think you really do know everything. Last week one of the girls asked me if "dog backwards" was a bad word.
(side note: the whole dog backwards thing kind of made me laugh - I haven't heard that in soooooo long! It reminded me of my own elementary school days . . . and how some of the eighth graders who cursed better than sailors were the first graders who were the first to cover their mouths and gasp when someone said "heck." Even then I giggled at the irony.)
Okay, tangent over. Ummmm . . . what am I supposed to say to that? Sure, I can tell her it's a bad word, but then what if she goes home and hears her parents say it, and tells them that her teacher said it was a bad word, and then they complain to the principal and then I get fired, and yes, I'm probably blowing the whole thing out of proportion, but have you seen the news these past few years?! Parents these days are experts at making huge deals out of silly things, and the more trivial the issue, the bigger fit they throw, it seems. I gotta say, I'm kind of embarrassed to think that these parents (at least some of them) are my contemporaries. Seriously. Not cool.
But really, what am I supposed to say? I'm neither the kid's parent, nor her Sunday School teacher/religious leader. I have no right to impose my moral values on her or tell her what I believe is right. So I hedged and said some people think it's bad and then (quite skillfully, if I do say so myself) took the topic back the homework she was supposed to be doing. Cop out? Perhaps . . . probably. But she totally took me by surprise. Here's hoping I don't have to do something like that again.
The other (bigger, more consistent) problem I have is with the math homework. Okay, in the first place, these kids get about three times more homework than I ever did, which strikes me as pretty crazy. When do they get to be kids?! And in the second place, they're doing math that I haven;t done since . . . well, since about fourth grade. And I'm supposed to help them?! I'm supposed to explain to them what to do when they don't know?! I'm supposed to check their work and make sure it's correct?! I really hope I'm not responsible for these kids' math grades slipping.
On that note, I have to admit I kind of don't see the point of math classes beyond about a fourth grade level. Because when it comes to the real world, I haven't done any mental math more advanced than simple addition whilst grocery shopping . . . well, pretty much ever, and even then I rarely add a number bigger than about four to the running total. And I haven't used a calculator for math significantly harder than that . . . well, ever. I still have my old TI-82 graphing calculator from high school math (which I failed miserably, thank you very much!), but my cell phone calculator is actually more advanced than I need. More advanced than I've needed in six years, as a matter of fact. So can someone please explain to me what the point is in the average student taking geometry and calculus and trig? (failed geometry, didn't take the others, just fyi) Sure, the engineering and chem and pre-med majors all need more math, but what the crap are the rest of us ever going to so with it? And heaven knows my life and GPA would have been much better off and more pleasant without the math.
You know what the worst part is? I can't tell the kids that. I feel so sorry for them - at least I"m done with the torture!
P. ost S. cript
Okay, even if you never watch the videos I post, if you only ever watch one in your entire lifetime, make it this one. I guarantee you won't regret it. Make it full screen too, otherwise you might miss the best part like I almost did. Seriously - funniest thing ever. EVER.
Speaking of the fourth graders, I'm discovering a little bit of just how hard it must be to be a teacher of kids who think you really do know everything. Last week one of the girls asked me if "dog backwards" was a bad word.
(side note: the whole dog backwards thing kind of made me laugh - I haven't heard that in soooooo long! It reminded me of my own elementary school days . . . and how some of the eighth graders who cursed better than sailors were the first graders who were the first to cover their mouths and gasp when someone said "heck." Even then I giggled at the irony.)
Okay, tangent over. Ummmm . . . what am I supposed to say to that? Sure, I can tell her it's a bad word, but then what if she goes home and hears her parents say it, and tells them that her teacher said it was a bad word, and then they complain to the principal and then I get fired, and yes, I'm probably blowing the whole thing out of proportion, but have you seen the news these past few years?! Parents these days are experts at making huge deals out of silly things, and the more trivial the issue, the bigger fit they throw, it seems. I gotta say, I'm kind of embarrassed to think that these parents (at least some of them) are my contemporaries. Seriously. Not cool.
But really, what am I supposed to say? I'm neither the kid's parent, nor her Sunday School teacher/religious leader. I have no right to impose my moral values on her or tell her what I believe is right. So I hedged and said some people think it's bad and then (quite skillfully, if I do say so myself) took the topic back the homework she was supposed to be doing. Cop out? Perhaps . . . probably. But she totally took me by surprise. Here's hoping I don't have to do something like that again.
The other (bigger, more consistent) problem I have is with the math homework. Okay, in the first place, these kids get about three times more homework than I ever did, which strikes me as pretty crazy. When do they get to be kids?! And in the second place, they're doing math that I haven;t done since . . . well, since about fourth grade. And I'm supposed to help them?! I'm supposed to explain to them what to do when they don't know?! I'm supposed to check their work and make sure it's correct?! I really hope I'm not responsible for these kids' math grades slipping.
On that note, I have to admit I kind of don't see the point of math classes beyond about a fourth grade level. Because when it comes to the real world, I haven't done any mental math more advanced than simple addition whilst grocery shopping . . . well, pretty much ever, and even then I rarely add a number bigger than about four to the running total. And I haven't used a calculator for math significantly harder than that . . . well, ever. I still have my old TI-82 graphing calculator from high school math (which I failed miserably, thank you very much!), but my cell phone calculator is actually more advanced than I need. More advanced than I've needed in six years, as a matter of fact. So can someone please explain to me what the point is in the average student taking geometry and calculus and trig? (failed geometry, didn't take the others, just fyi) Sure, the engineering and chem and pre-med majors all need more math, but what the crap are the rest of us ever going to so with it? And heaven knows my life and GPA would have been much better off and more pleasant without the math.
You know what the worst part is? I can't tell the kids that. I feel so sorry for them - at least I"m done with the torture!
P. ost S. cript
Okay, even if you never watch the videos I post, if you only ever watch one in your entire lifetime, make it this one. I guarantee you won't regret it. Make it full screen too, otherwise you might miss the best part like I almost did. Seriously - funniest thing ever. EVER.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Can Someone Explain to Me . . .
1) When conference weekend became a holiday on the level of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter?
2) Why everyone (meaning college students) just have to go home for conference weekend? Am I hearing something different here in Logan than I would in Tremonton? Or if the whole being-married-now thing voids that, was I hearing something different in Cedar City?
3) What genius came up with ladies' night at Deseret Book? Seriously - bunches of women at "the Lord's bookstore" spending tons of money whilst their husbands are all at a religious meeting being counseled to stay out of debt? That, my friends, is irony exemplified. Whoever came up with it = marketing genius! (note - I've never heard Deseret called that . . . but it was such an easy shot. And I'm sure there are people who call it that. And who would never dare set foot in such a secular, heathen place as something like Borders or something. I hope I never meet these people.)
Oh, and - yay Brigham City! Your thirty minute drive to the Logan temple has just been dropped to five! Of course such suffering and sacrifice to go to the temple should be celebrated on facebook with mini-parties like they were holding in Rio yesterday! All those Mormons in Africa have it soooooo easy - they only have three temples to choose from!
Okay, that is all.
P.S. Mark this one on your calenders, kiddies - I'm actually going to apologize if I happened to offend anyone today. I stand by my opinions, but the sarcasm bug bit me pretty hard today, so my phrasing may be offensive to someone. Although I certainly hope not.
P. ost S. cript
It's so refreshing to find Mormon comedians who are actually funny. And this guy left me having flashbacks to my childhood . . . in a good way. :-) Plus, Panda is freaking delicious!!!
2) Why everyone (meaning college students) just have to go home for conference weekend? Am I hearing something different here in Logan than I would in Tremonton? Or if the whole being-married-now thing voids that, was I hearing something different in Cedar City?
3) What genius came up with ladies' night at Deseret Book? Seriously - bunches of women at "the Lord's bookstore" spending tons of money whilst their husbands are all at a religious meeting being counseled to stay out of debt? That, my friends, is irony exemplified. Whoever came up with it = marketing genius! (note - I've never heard Deseret called that . . . but it was such an easy shot. And I'm sure there are people who call it that. And who would never dare set foot in such a secular, heathen place as something like Borders or something. I hope I never meet these people.)
Oh, and - yay Brigham City! Your thirty minute drive to the Logan temple has just been dropped to five! Of course such suffering and sacrifice to go to the temple should be celebrated on facebook with mini-parties like they were holding in Rio yesterday! All those Mormons in Africa have it soooooo easy - they only have three temples to choose from!
Okay, that is all.
P.S. Mark this one on your calenders, kiddies - I'm actually going to apologize if I happened to offend anyone today. I stand by my opinions, but the sarcasm bug bit me pretty hard today, so my phrasing may be offensive to someone. Although I certainly hope not.
P. ost S. cript
It's so refreshing to find Mormon comedians who are actually funny. And this guy left me having flashbacks to my childhood . . . in a good way. :-) Plus, Panda is freaking delicious!!!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A Life-or-Death Rant
Okay, so this one's been building for a while (like, since I got back to Utah) but driving with Ashli finally pushed me over the edge.
What is with Utah drivers?! Seriously . . . why are so many of them so terrible, irresponsible, reckless, and inconsiderate?! The more I think about it, the less sense it makes. Where does this "I pay my tithing, therefore I can run this red light" mentality come from? Is it pent up aggression from not telling people exactly what you think of them in church or what?
The thing I have the biggest problem with is how close people get when they stop behind you. As most of you know, I was in an accident of the rear-ended sort a few years ago. (10:00 pm the night before my 21st birthday by a drunk driver - how's that for a "don't drink, love God" unnecessary sign?) Ever since I've always kind of freaked out a little when the car in my rearview mirror gets too big too fast. I've actually started to stop a looooooong way back from the car in front of me so that when the car behind me get too close I can roll forward a little. Of course, it's not very effective since the idiot behind me almost always goes forward too, and usually ends up even closer to me than they were to begin with. Dude, I swear one of these days I'm going to feel someone bump me from behind because they got too close.
Why do people get so close at stoplights anyway? I mean, it's not like they've got to keep that close to keep someone else from cutting in line . . . and even if they did, how elementary school is that?! Can't they wait five more seconds to get where they're going? I don't get how these people can preach patience at the pulpit every Sunday and then me so incredibly impatient on the road the rest of the week. Utah has got to have the highest concentration of hypocrites in the world. (side note: the only time I really feel safe driving in Utah County is on Sunday.)
Driving with Ashli Friday was just plain terrifying. It was like a window into what it must be like inside the cars of drivers I loathe. She was drifting into the opposite lane, paying more attention to the radio than the road, and tailgating like there was no tomorrow - which is ironic, considering she was in the same accident I was. She tailgated one guy so bad I really thought we were going to hit them when he started tapping his breaks. It only took her almost a mile to get the hint and slow down. Needless to say, I don't plan on getting into a car with her again even if my life depends on it . . . in fact, especially not if my life depends on it.
On the surface it seems so weird that Utah of all places would be the crappy driver capital of the world. But I would rather be back in Orlando driving amid all the stupid lost tourons than in Provo with all the soccer moms and their stupid family window decals taking up the entire back window of their MAVs. Unless the tourons in Orlando have Utah plates. Then you'll see me heading for California.
P. ost S. cript
I hate twitter, but I can't stand the Jonas Brothers. Therefore, this clip is an epic win for Lacey. :-)
What is with Utah drivers?! Seriously . . . why are so many of them so terrible, irresponsible, reckless, and inconsiderate?! The more I think about it, the less sense it makes. Where does this "I pay my tithing, therefore I can run this red light" mentality come from? Is it pent up aggression from not telling people exactly what you think of them in church or what?
The thing I have the biggest problem with is how close people get when they stop behind you. As most of you know, I was in an accident of the rear-ended sort a few years ago. (10:00 pm the night before my 21st birthday by a drunk driver - how's that for a "don't drink, love God" unnecessary sign?) Ever since I've always kind of freaked out a little when the car in my rearview mirror gets too big too fast. I've actually started to stop a looooooong way back from the car in front of me so that when the car behind me get too close I can roll forward a little. Of course, it's not very effective since the idiot behind me almost always goes forward too, and usually ends up even closer to me than they were to begin with. Dude, I swear one of these days I'm going to feel someone bump me from behind because they got too close.
Why do people get so close at stoplights anyway? I mean, it's not like they've got to keep that close to keep someone else from cutting in line . . . and even if they did, how elementary school is that?! Can't they wait five more seconds to get where they're going? I don't get how these people can preach patience at the pulpit every Sunday and then me so incredibly impatient on the road the rest of the week. Utah has got to have the highest concentration of hypocrites in the world. (side note: the only time I really feel safe driving in Utah County is on Sunday.)
Driving with Ashli Friday was just plain terrifying. It was like a window into what it must be like inside the cars of drivers I loathe. She was drifting into the opposite lane, paying more attention to the radio than the road, and tailgating like there was no tomorrow - which is ironic, considering she was in the same accident I was. She tailgated one guy so bad I really thought we were going to hit them when he started tapping his breaks. It only took her almost a mile to get the hint and slow down. Needless to say, I don't plan on getting into a car with her again even if my life depends on it . . . in fact, especially not if my life depends on it.
On the surface it seems so weird that Utah of all places would be the crappy driver capital of the world. But I would rather be back in Orlando driving amid all the stupid lost tourons than in Provo with all the soccer moms and their stupid family window decals taking up the entire back window of their MAVs. Unless the tourons in Orlando have Utah plates. Then you'll see me heading for California.
P. ost S. cript
I hate twitter, but I can't stand the Jonas Brothers. Therefore, this clip is an epic win for Lacey. :-)
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
MST
As in, Mormon Standard Time. I'd almost forgotten how it worked in Florida. Which is kind of weird, considering most of the ward was from Utah. But everything always started more or less on time. So there's been a little bit of culture shock for me too in coming back here. Even so, I really hadn't noticed it much, it's been more like "oh yeah, everything starts at least fifteen minutes later than you expect," sort of thing and I just roll with it. But this past Sunday . . . well, let's just say it reminded me of all the things I don't understand about MST. (side note: this one's not really a vent . . . at least I'm not trying to sound like it. More of a puzzled giggle at Utah culture.)
As we (mostly) all know, Sunday was the Oquirrh (did I spell that even close to right?) Mountain Temple dedication, and apparently all of Utah had church replaced with dedication broadcasts. I found that a little odd and confusing, but that's beside the point. I can't speak for any other wards, but in our ward they've been announcing the dedication in both sacrament and Relief Society (and, I would assume, elder's quorum) all summer. Get your ticket, get your handkerchief, and make sure you're there half an hour early because they lock the doors and you won't be able to get in. Standard stuff, right? Should be pretty familiar to anyone who's ever been to a temple dedication before . . . and I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say that would be everyone in our ward except Luke.
So, being the obedient, punctual, and conveniently childless couple that we are, Luke and I show up at 2:15 - not super early so that the images of the temple get monotonous (we saw it three and half times as it was), but not so late that we're running to the doors scrambling to get there right as the swing them shut and we're left out. (I'm imagining some medieval castle doors here. So cool.) We pull into the parking lot, and ours is literally the only car. Weird . . . So Luke does the whole "are you sure we have the time right? Are you sure it's here and not at the stake center?" thing, and I'm like "yeah, this is it," and everything and we walk in and - yay! - there's people there. About five other couples, to be precise, and I'm guessing they all walked since there's tons of apartments all around our building. We're probably in the minority in that we live far enough away that it's possible but not really practical to walk to church. So we sit down, and as I figured, people start trickling in. By 2:30 - the time we were all told to be there because the doors would be locked - the chapel is a little more than half full. But people are still coming in. I keep waiting for the flow to stop, but it only slows down. The last I saw people come in was at - and I know, because I glanced at the clock - 2:58. Ummmm . . . what?
First off, I know they do lock the doors, because I've been to other dedications where I saw them lock the doors half an hour before. So what happened here? What's with the not following through? I mean, I'm totally into the whole "better late than never" thing but 2:58? These people have had all day to get dressed and show up on time and they can't manage it? I would cut some slack if it was the 9:00 dedication, but the 3:00? Lame!
On a slightly similar note, picture this situation: You're at the Pearly Gates (yeah, I know, just go with me. The conventional imagery is easier to work with.) and you've just passed through a few hours ago. Someone comes running up to St. Peter's desk . . . or podium . . . or whatever, and starts saying "I'm here! I'm here!" all out of breath and stuff. St. Peter looks through the book and says something to the effect of "well, everything seems to be in order , except . . . (dramatic pause) . . . you were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. I'm afraid we can't let you in now." The newly dead person kinda starts to freak out, and then St. Peter starts laughing. "No, man, I'm just messing with you! Come on in - just don't be late for choir practice!"
Am I the only person who would be laughing? Anyway, I guess my point is, why tell people the doors will be locked when they won't?
Nextly - what is it with Mormons being incapable of getting anywhere on time? Okay, I know the first answer is going to be kids. And I get that. And anyone with a child under the age of five gets a pass, and the more kids you have the longer you get the pass. Stuff happens. But it's not just young families. Practically no one in this entire state ever shows up on time. (Case in point: I was ten minutes early for my interview last week. My interviewer wasn't back from lunch, and didn't get back until 3:15 . . . classic MST lateness!) In my parents' ward, half the time it's the oldest ward members walking in during the opening hymn. And of course there were no kids at the dedication on Sunday. Even then, most of these couples don't have kids. What is it that makes everybody late all the time? Something in the water? The air? Some genetic mutation that I've been fortunate enough to avoid since neither of my parents are native Utahns?
Seriously though, can anyone explain the whys of MST? I've always wondered, and Sunday just reminded me of how much I don't get it.
P. ost S. cript
So very wrong. So very awesome. I want one.
As we (mostly) all know, Sunday was the Oquirrh (did I spell that even close to right?) Mountain Temple dedication, and apparently all of Utah had church replaced with dedication broadcasts. I found that a little odd and confusing, but that's beside the point. I can't speak for any other wards, but in our ward they've been announcing the dedication in both sacrament and Relief Society (and, I would assume, elder's quorum) all summer. Get your ticket, get your handkerchief, and make sure you're there half an hour early because they lock the doors and you won't be able to get in. Standard stuff, right? Should be pretty familiar to anyone who's ever been to a temple dedication before . . . and I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say that would be everyone in our ward except Luke.
So, being the obedient, punctual, and conveniently childless couple that we are, Luke and I show up at 2:15 - not super early so that the images of the temple get monotonous (we saw it three and half times as it was), but not so late that we're running to the doors scrambling to get there right as the swing them shut and we're left out. (I'm imagining some medieval castle doors here. So cool.) We pull into the parking lot, and ours is literally the only car. Weird . . . So Luke does the whole "are you sure we have the time right? Are you sure it's here and not at the stake center?" thing, and I'm like "yeah, this is it," and everything and we walk in and - yay! - there's people there. About five other couples, to be precise, and I'm guessing they all walked since there's tons of apartments all around our building. We're probably in the minority in that we live far enough away that it's possible but not really practical to walk to church. So we sit down, and as I figured, people start trickling in. By 2:30 - the time we were all told to be there because the doors would be locked - the chapel is a little more than half full. But people are still coming in. I keep waiting for the flow to stop, but it only slows down. The last I saw people come in was at - and I know, because I glanced at the clock - 2:58. Ummmm . . . what?
First off, I know they do lock the doors, because I've been to other dedications where I saw them lock the doors half an hour before. So what happened here? What's with the not following through? I mean, I'm totally into the whole "better late than never" thing but 2:58? These people have had all day to get dressed and show up on time and they can't manage it? I would cut some slack if it was the 9:00 dedication, but the 3:00? Lame!
On a slightly similar note, picture this situation: You're at the Pearly Gates (yeah, I know, just go with me. The conventional imagery is easier to work with.) and you've just passed through a few hours ago. Someone comes running up to St. Peter's desk . . . or podium . . . or whatever, and starts saying "I'm here! I'm here!" all out of breath and stuff. St. Peter looks through the book and says something to the effect of "well, everything seems to be in order , except . . . (dramatic pause) . . . you were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. I'm afraid we can't let you in now." The newly dead person kinda starts to freak out, and then St. Peter starts laughing. "No, man, I'm just messing with you! Come on in - just don't be late for choir practice!"
Am I the only person who would be laughing? Anyway, I guess my point is, why tell people the doors will be locked when they won't?
Nextly - what is it with Mormons being incapable of getting anywhere on time? Okay, I know the first answer is going to be kids. And I get that. And anyone with a child under the age of five gets a pass, and the more kids you have the longer you get the pass. Stuff happens. But it's not just young families. Practically no one in this entire state ever shows up on time. (Case in point: I was ten minutes early for my interview last week. My interviewer wasn't back from lunch, and didn't get back until 3:15 . . . classic MST lateness!) In my parents' ward, half the time it's the oldest ward members walking in during the opening hymn. And of course there were no kids at the dedication on Sunday. Even then, most of these couples don't have kids. What is it that makes everybody late all the time? Something in the water? The air? Some genetic mutation that I've been fortunate enough to avoid since neither of my parents are native Utahns?
Seriously though, can anyone explain the whys of MST? I've always wondered, and Sunday just reminded me of how much I don't get it.
P. ost S. cript
So very wrong. So very awesome. I want one.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Another . . . Achievement?
So I delivered my first "Relief Society meal" yesterday. Does that make me officially an adult? An adult ward member at least . . . good times. It was a little intimidating, especially since I'd never actually met the people I took the tuna casserole to (yeah, I went the cliched route . . . it was a last minute thing, the RS pres called me around noon on Saturday. Good thing we had a box of tuna helper!). I'm still learning names, and they had been missing a lot of church the last couple of months . . . I guess it was a bit of a rough pregnancy. It's just so weird to think that I'm the one in charge of taking meals to people instead of my mom . . . who's nutjob idea was that? Granted, I haven't killed Luke . . . yet . . . but you won't be seeing me on Top Chef any time soon either. But seriously, this one thing, above pretty much everything else, has made me feel more "officially" married and grown up than anything else. Is that normal, or just a me thing?
On a completely unrelated note, I had the idea last week to start a book review blog. The more I thought about it, the more fun it sounded, plus, who knows? Maybe I'll get big, or something. (Can you tell I'm really trying to keep my hopes up with this whole no-jobs-in-all-of-Cache-County thing?) Crazy thing - Luke made the same exact suggestion last night as we were getting ready for bed, and I hadn't mentioned it to him. We decided that maybe that was a sign that I should give it a go . . . or something. So now I'm looking for suggestions for blog names and such. I'll be reviewing pretty much everything I read (or have ever read) from classics to LDS fiction to Star Wars to contemporary to fantasy . . . yeah, that pretty much covers everything I read. Anyway, if I use your suggestion you'll totally get something when I'm popular enough to start doing giveaways. :-)
P. ost S. cript
Just in case you missed it when it was hugely popular last year. We all loved it . . . all you had to do was say "Charlie!" like the other kid does and we'd all start giggling.
On a completely unrelated note, I had the idea last week to start a book review blog. The more I thought about it, the more fun it sounded, plus, who knows? Maybe I'll get big, or something. (Can you tell I'm really trying to keep my hopes up with this whole no-jobs-in-all-of-Cache-County thing?) Crazy thing - Luke made the same exact suggestion last night as we were getting ready for bed, and I hadn't mentioned it to him. We decided that maybe that was a sign that I should give it a go . . . or something. So now I'm looking for suggestions for blog names and such. I'll be reviewing pretty much everything I read (or have ever read) from classics to LDS fiction to Star Wars to contemporary to fantasy . . . yeah, that pretty much covers everything I read. Anyway, if I use your suggestion you'll totally get something when I'm popular enough to start doing giveaways. :-)
P. ost S. cript
Just in case you missed it when it was hugely popular last year. We all loved it . . . all you had to do was say "Charlie!" like the other kid does and we'd all start giggling.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
You know that facebook group "I Judge You When you Use Poor Grammar?"
If I joined facebook groups, which I don't as a rule (there are about four I've joined), I would totally join that one. There are very few things that bother me more than bad grammar and just ignorance in general.
Today in Sunday School the lesson was on Zion's Camp, as I would assume most of you probably already knew. As far as I know our ward is pretty much on track. Anyway, at one point in the lesson the teacher was trying to draw parallels between that time period and ours - familiar concept, no? He started with the historical setting, which I thought a little odd, but okay, let's roll with that. The only information he could got from the class in answer to his questions was "wasn't Missouri, like, almost completely lawless or something?" Ummmmmm . . . WHAT?!?!?!?!?! This is a student ward. Meaning I am in a room with 50+ college students, most of whom are lifelong members and have probably had this lesson a million times or more, and that's ALL they can come up with? Are you freaking kidding me?!? Since we're still one of the newest couples in the ward (and because I'm too shy to volunteer information . . . pretty much ever . . . ) I didn't say anything - also, I didn't want to look like a know-it-all - but this is what was going through my head: "Missouri had just been admitted to the Union under the Missouri Compromise, which allowed it to be a slave state even though most of the state lies north of the Mason-Dixon Line because Maine was also admitted to the Union, but as a free state, and that way they kept the balance of power even in Washington. And while it was the edge of the country at the time, it wasn't lawless. But Jackson County, where the Saints lived, is on the western edge of the state, and that area did attract a pretty good number of people on the run from the law because the could live in civilization but if someone came looking for them, they could easily slip away into Indian Territory for as long as they needed to."
Surely I'm not the only person in our class that knows all this . . . right?
So a moment later the teacher is having us list the trials faced by the men of Zion's Camp. And he calls on Luke. And Luke says "poor and scanty rations." The teacher gives him a blank look for a second, like he doesn't understand what Luke said, than he nods and writes "poor rassons" on the board. To his credit, he realized he'd spelled rations wrong and fixed it, then checked with Luke to make sure he'd got it the second time because, as he said, "you're the English major." Yeah, apparently we're the only ones in the whole ward. Seriously? Seriously? It's probably obvious, but I was a little distracted for the rest of the lesson.
I know it's prideful and horrible of me and everything you're thinking right now, but I really can't help but pass a little bit of judgement on people when I find out that they don't have a knowledge of things like basic history and vocabulary. I try not to, I really do. But . . . come on! The first time I learned about the Missouri Compromise was in fifth grade US history. Then we studied it in a little more detail in 11th grade US history. And then again in the US history class I took in college to fulfill my generals. (I wish I could have squeezed in more history classes. I'm kind of a history buff.) So what were the rest of the people in our ward doing on Missouri Compromise Day in history class . . . sleeping? No, don't answer that. They probably were. It's not like anyone cares what grade you get in history class, unless that's your major. Whatever happened to "those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it"? Nobody cares about the past anymore. Nobody remembers it. And that, in my less-humble-than-it-should-be opinion is the reason for a lot of conditions in the world today. (Interpret as you will. That's all you'll ever hear me say about that.)
And okay, I'll admit, the whole intimate knowledge of US history in the 1800s? Yeah, it helps to have read The Work and the Glory 10+ times. Part of the reason I enjoy those books so much is because of the detailed history lectures interspersed with the story. Like I said, I'm a history buff. I love that sort of thing. But come on - life. Long. Members. That means at least one Zion's Camp lesson every four years since forever. And I remember Zion's Camp lessons when I was younger . . . like, 13 or 14. So you can't say it's just the limited amount of time people in a student ward have spent in the "grown up" Sunday School. Am I really the only person who knows/remembers these sorts of things? The only person who cares to study them? It seems to me that that can't be possible. I remember feeling fascinated in my D&C Institute class about five years ago when our teacher "translated" a passage frome section 88 into "modern" speak.
". . . all things that pertain unto the kingdom of God that are expedient for you to understand; of things both in heaven (astronomy) and in the earth (geography), and under the earth (geology); things which have been (HISTORY!!), things which are (current events), things which must shortly come to pass (prophecy), things which are at home, things which are abroad, the wars and the perplexities of the nations (politics, anyone?) . . . " (88:78-80, if anyone cares)
I remember the feeling of comprehension dawning as I finally got what that passage was saying . . . followed quickly by a feeling of relief since it doesn't mention math or any of the math related sciences. Seriously - thank freaking heaven for that! But anyway, after classes like today I find myself wondering - am I the only person who knows that we're supposed to study pretty much everything? Sometimes it feels like it.
Okay, moving on to the vocabulary lesson. I honestly think Luke got a brief blank look because our teacher had never heard the word "scanty" used for anything other than to describe someone as "scantily clad." It drives me nuts how so many people in Utah (not everybody, again thank heaven!) seem to have no concept of words having multiple definitions. I remember a while ago when I was exploring another group on facebook someone had invited me to join - one of those generically Christian "yay for morals!" type groups. Some guy had started a thread talking about how much he admired modest girls. Almost immediately the Mormons (and I'm using that term in its TAMNest sense) hijacked it talking about how they hated seeing girls in crop tops and short shorts and spaghetti straps and . . . yeah. You get the picture. The original author tried to redirect the discussion back to what he meant - all around modest girls. You know, girls who are humble, not vain, decent in everything, not just clothes, and do things in moderation (hmmm . . . modesty, moderation . . . related words perhaps? Nah . . . ). I had to applaud his doomed efforts. I can imagine the blank looks people gave their screens before typing "wait . . . but I thought we were only talking about modest girls, not (insert synonym for modesty here)." Because in Utah modest means nothing more than dressing appropriately. Talk about ignorance! (And while we are talking about it, don't even get me started on the Utah definition of ignorant!!) No wonder some people have such small vocabularies.
And that just makes me sad as an English major. I'll admit, "cool" and "crappy" are useful words, and I certainly use them myself - quite extensively even. But there are so many other ways to describe things that are even better! I miss being in college and hanging out with my English major friends and using big words because we knew we all understood them so we wouldn't have to pause the conversation to explain what we'd just said. Aahh, the joys of not having to be a human dictionary!
Okay, rant finished. Coming down off the soapbox . . . again. Hopefully I won't be getting back up for a while. But I had to get this one out, or I think I would have literally gone insane by the end of the week. (And I do mean literally. Another pet peeve: people who say literally when they're speaking figuratively. Unless you're being ironic, you sound like an idiot.)
Please don't get me wrong though. I really like our ward. Everyone is really nice, which is why this is such a soapbox moment for me - I know they're not small-town hicks who coasted through high school not caring. I'm even making friends. Slowly, but that's how I always make friends. I'm way too shy to randomly talk to people, so unless someone talks to me first I don't say much. But I really do like our ward. I just hate having my delusional bubbles burst . . . and I like to think everyone is as intelligent . . . no, make that knowledgeable . . . as I am. Because seriously? It's not like I'm a rocket scientist or anything . . .
P. ost S. cript
K, so I decided to try and keep up the Sunday-ish-ness (it was a spiritual soapbox rant . . . right?). My first thought was Latter-Day Night Live, but what little I've seen of it . . . wasn't very funny. But I did a quick youtube search anyway and this is what popped up at the top. Not hysterical, but about the funniest LDNL bit I've ever seen. Also, another two-for-one because the related videos had an excerpt of "Sweet Spirit" and I absolutely ADORE Sons of Provo. Not to mention it's really the only movie where I can stand Kirby Heybourne. I mean, seriously, does he have to be in EVERY LDS movie? Give me a break . . . he's not that good an actor. In fact, he's not very good at all. Well, actually, I really wouldn't know since he's played the same exact character in everything I've seen him in. For crying out loud, do something else!!
Today in Sunday School the lesson was on Zion's Camp, as I would assume most of you probably already knew. As far as I know our ward is pretty much on track. Anyway, at one point in the lesson the teacher was trying to draw parallels between that time period and ours - familiar concept, no? He started with the historical setting, which I thought a little odd, but okay, let's roll with that. The only information he could got from the class in answer to his questions was "wasn't Missouri, like, almost completely lawless or something?" Ummmmmm . . . WHAT?!?!?!?!?! This is a student ward. Meaning I am in a room with 50+ college students, most of whom are lifelong members and have probably had this lesson a million times or more, and that's ALL they can come up with? Are you freaking kidding me?!? Since we're still one of the newest couples in the ward (and because I'm too shy to volunteer information . . . pretty much ever . . . ) I didn't say anything - also, I didn't want to look like a know-it-all - but this is what was going through my head: "Missouri had just been admitted to the Union under the Missouri Compromise, which allowed it to be a slave state even though most of the state lies north of the Mason-Dixon Line because Maine was also admitted to the Union, but as a free state, and that way they kept the balance of power even in Washington. And while it was the edge of the country at the time, it wasn't lawless. But Jackson County, where the Saints lived, is on the western edge of the state, and that area did attract a pretty good number of people on the run from the law because the could live in civilization but if someone came looking for them, they could easily slip away into Indian Territory for as long as they needed to."
Surely I'm not the only person in our class that knows all this . . . right?
So a moment later the teacher is having us list the trials faced by the men of Zion's Camp. And he calls on Luke. And Luke says "poor and scanty rations." The teacher gives him a blank look for a second, like he doesn't understand what Luke said, than he nods and writes "poor rassons" on the board. To his credit, he realized he'd spelled rations wrong and fixed it, then checked with Luke to make sure he'd got it the second time because, as he said, "you're the English major." Yeah, apparently we're the only ones in the whole ward. Seriously? Seriously? It's probably obvious, but I was a little distracted for the rest of the lesson.
I know it's prideful and horrible of me and everything you're thinking right now, but I really can't help but pass a little bit of judgement on people when I find out that they don't have a knowledge of things like basic history and vocabulary. I try not to, I really do. But . . . come on! The first time I learned about the Missouri Compromise was in fifth grade US history. Then we studied it in a little more detail in 11th grade US history. And then again in the US history class I took in college to fulfill my generals. (I wish I could have squeezed in more history classes. I'm kind of a history buff.) So what were the rest of the people in our ward doing on Missouri Compromise Day in history class . . . sleeping? No, don't answer that. They probably were. It's not like anyone cares what grade you get in history class, unless that's your major. Whatever happened to "those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it"? Nobody cares about the past anymore. Nobody remembers it. And that, in my less-humble-than-it-should-be opinion is the reason for a lot of conditions in the world today. (Interpret as you will. That's all you'll ever hear me say about that.)
And okay, I'll admit, the whole intimate knowledge of US history in the 1800s? Yeah, it helps to have read The Work and the Glory 10+ times. Part of the reason I enjoy those books so much is because of the detailed history lectures interspersed with the story. Like I said, I'm a history buff. I love that sort of thing. But come on - life. Long. Members. That means at least one Zion's Camp lesson every four years since forever. And I remember Zion's Camp lessons when I was younger . . . like, 13 or 14. So you can't say it's just the limited amount of time people in a student ward have spent in the "grown up" Sunday School. Am I really the only person who knows/remembers these sorts of things? The only person who cares to study them? It seems to me that that can't be possible. I remember feeling fascinated in my D&C Institute class about five years ago when our teacher "translated" a passage frome section 88 into "modern" speak.
". . . all things that pertain unto the kingdom of God that are expedient for you to understand; of things both in heaven (astronomy) and in the earth (geography), and under the earth (geology); things which have been (HISTORY!!), things which are (current events), things which must shortly come to pass (prophecy), things which are at home, things which are abroad, the wars and the perplexities of the nations (politics, anyone?) . . . " (88:78-80, if anyone cares)
I remember the feeling of comprehension dawning as I finally got what that passage was saying . . . followed quickly by a feeling of relief since it doesn't mention math or any of the math related sciences. Seriously - thank freaking heaven for that! But anyway, after classes like today I find myself wondering - am I the only person who knows that we're supposed to study pretty much everything? Sometimes it feels like it.
Okay, moving on to the vocabulary lesson. I honestly think Luke got a brief blank look because our teacher had never heard the word "scanty" used for anything other than to describe someone as "scantily clad." It drives me nuts how so many people in Utah (not everybody, again thank heaven!) seem to have no concept of words having multiple definitions. I remember a while ago when I was exploring another group on facebook someone had invited me to join - one of those generically Christian "yay for morals!" type groups. Some guy had started a thread talking about how much he admired modest girls. Almost immediately the Mormons (and I'm using that term in its TAMNest sense) hijacked it talking about how they hated seeing girls in crop tops and short shorts and spaghetti straps and . . . yeah. You get the picture. The original author tried to redirect the discussion back to what he meant - all around modest girls. You know, girls who are humble, not vain, decent in everything, not just clothes, and do things in moderation (hmmm . . . modesty, moderation . . . related words perhaps? Nah . . . ). I had to applaud his doomed efforts. I can imagine the blank looks people gave their screens before typing "wait . . . but I thought we were only talking about modest girls, not (insert synonym for modesty here)." Because in Utah modest means nothing more than dressing appropriately. Talk about ignorance! (And while we are talking about it, don't even get me started on the Utah definition of ignorant!!) No wonder some people have such small vocabularies.
And that just makes me sad as an English major. I'll admit, "cool" and "crappy" are useful words, and I certainly use them myself - quite extensively even. But there are so many other ways to describe things that are even better! I miss being in college and hanging out with my English major friends and using big words because we knew we all understood them so we wouldn't have to pause the conversation to explain what we'd just said. Aahh, the joys of not having to be a human dictionary!
Okay, rant finished. Coming down off the soapbox . . . again. Hopefully I won't be getting back up for a while. But I had to get this one out, or I think I would have literally gone insane by the end of the week. (And I do mean literally. Another pet peeve: people who say literally when they're speaking figuratively. Unless you're being ironic, you sound like an idiot.)
Please don't get me wrong though. I really like our ward. Everyone is really nice, which is why this is such a soapbox moment for me - I know they're not small-town hicks who coasted through high school not caring. I'm even making friends. Slowly, but that's how I always make friends. I'm way too shy to randomly talk to people, so unless someone talks to me first I don't say much. But I really do like our ward. I just hate having my delusional bubbles burst . . . and I like to think everyone is as intelligent . . . no, make that knowledgeable . . . as I am. Because seriously? It's not like I'm a rocket scientist or anything . . .
P. ost S. cript
K, so I decided to try and keep up the Sunday-ish-ness (it was a spiritual soapbox rant . . . right?). My first thought was Latter-Day Night Live, but what little I've seen of it . . . wasn't very funny. But I did a quick youtube search anyway and this is what popped up at the top. Not hysterical, but about the funniest LDNL bit I've ever seen. Also, another two-for-one because the related videos had an excerpt of "Sweet Spirit" and I absolutely ADORE Sons of Provo. Not to mention it's really the only movie where I can stand Kirby Heybourne. I mean, seriously, does he have to be in EVERY LDS movie? Give me a break . . . he's not that good an actor. In fact, he's not very good at all. Well, actually, I really wouldn't know since he's played the same exact character in everything I've seen him in. For crying out loud, do something else!!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
A Sad Commentary on Our Times
So all last week we were having problems with our internet connection. Really weird problems too. It was kind of slower than normal, and every evening at around seven it would just disappear. Nothing. Wireless completely gone, and the wired was hit and miss. But then, just like clockwork, between nine and ten it would come back. And work just fine until the next day at seven. Weirdest Internet problem ever. Sunday it went out at 7:30, and never came back. No Internet all day yesterday. I spent a good chunk of my afternoon trying to get it back up . . . one of the "perks" of being the maintenance people for the summer - one call to the manager and I got the customer service number for Qwest and the account number for the complex. Sadly the guy I ended up talking was no help. Grr. On the plus side, when Luke got home from Convergys training he went down to take a look at it, and apparently the problem was exactly what he'd learned about at work. How convenient is that?! So he fiddled around for a bit and pushed buttons and played with cords and wires and . . . yeah. I have no idea what he did. And when he tried to explain the problem it went completely over my head. As if the phrase "it's all Greek to me" was coined solely and expressly for our conversation last night. However, obviously, it worked, and we are back online. Woot. The wireless is still acting really funking and tempramental, but the wired is fine . . . and as long as one of them's working, I'm perfectly content.
Which brings me to my point. I thought I was going to go nuts yesterday. Well, yesterday afternoon anyway. I spent most of the morning doing errands. Since the a/c in my car doesn't work I try to be home for the day by about one. Anyway, all afternoon - when I was't on the phone with Qwest - I had to fight the urge to try "just one more time" to get connected. Granted, I have plenty of books to keep me occupied, and I probably read about 600 more pages than I would have otherwise, and I do appreciate the fact that while I'm not getting paid and sometimes get bored, having such extensive uninterrupted time for reading is a treat that can't last forever. But yesterday I wanted my internet. Undoubtedly mostly because it wasn't there, like most other people would be feeling I imagine. I wanted to read the comics I get emailed to me every day (how could I survive without my Pearls Before Swine?! Oh the humanity!!). I wanted to waste time mindlessly combing through cake wrecks, and some of the other blogs I've found this summer. And holy crap, I was dying to start some fights on Sorority Life. That game has really sucked me in!! (What? You have your Mafia Wars or Vampire Wars or whatever. So I chose the pink one. Don't judge me!)
Is this what it's come to? I do nothing of significant importance online, and yet, when I don't have access to it, I go crazy. I remember being sent outside during the summer when we lived in IF and told not to come back in until dinnertime. I usually took a book out with me - and sometimes it got tough trying to sneak back in to switch books - and there was other stuff to do . . . mostly the trampoline and occasionally we'd have water fights. I'll admit I was bored a lot back then - one can only throw a bucket of water at Ashli so many times before it gets old. A lot of times, don't get me wrong. But that too, eventually gets old. One can only jump on the tramp for so long - no matter what kind of shape you're in - before one is too out of breath to keep going. And as I've mentioned before, things like dishes and vacuuming and such only take so long. I've actually started doing dishes every other day just so that it takes longer when I do wash them. But have I really become such a boring/uncreative person that one day without the interet leaves me climbing up the walls? That's . . . kinda pathetic, not gonna lie. And the cray thing is, now that the internet is back, I've spent more of my time reading than online. Please, tell me I'm not the only person out there who's this contrary!
On another note, I was at familysearch Sunday when the internet went down, just exploring a little because we'd talked a little about family history at church. And I was remembering how much I enjoyed it my senior year of college when I took that family history class and was starting to learn how to do everything. I want to try and start that up again - especially considering how much free time I have for it right now. The only problem is, I have no idea what to do or where to start or how to find anything. Especially considering on line I was following backward (just to see how far I coud go) went all the way back to the 1300s! How am I supposed to pick that up and go forward with it? Or any of the others even? Any tips/help would be great, at least to get me started . . .
P. ost S. cript
Another cutesy one. Team Jayla showed us this one about a month ago, and I got a kick out of it. Shay and I can both do the voice . . . although it is a bit of a strain on the vocal chords . . .
Which brings me to my point. I thought I was going to go nuts yesterday. Well, yesterday afternoon anyway. I spent most of the morning doing errands. Since the a/c in my car doesn't work I try to be home for the day by about one. Anyway, all afternoon - when I was't on the phone with Qwest - I had to fight the urge to try "just one more time" to get connected. Granted, I have plenty of books to keep me occupied, and I probably read about 600 more pages than I would have otherwise, and I do appreciate the fact that while I'm not getting paid and sometimes get bored, having such extensive uninterrupted time for reading is a treat that can't last forever. But yesterday I wanted my internet. Undoubtedly mostly because it wasn't there, like most other people would be feeling I imagine. I wanted to read the comics I get emailed to me every day (how could I survive without my Pearls Before Swine?! Oh the humanity!!). I wanted to waste time mindlessly combing through cake wrecks, and some of the other blogs I've found this summer. And holy crap, I was dying to start some fights on Sorority Life. That game has really sucked me in!! (What? You have your Mafia Wars or Vampire Wars or whatever. So I chose the pink one. Don't judge me!)
Is this what it's come to? I do nothing of significant importance online, and yet, when I don't have access to it, I go crazy. I remember being sent outside during the summer when we lived in IF and told not to come back in until dinnertime. I usually took a book out with me - and sometimes it got tough trying to sneak back in to switch books - and there was other stuff to do . . . mostly the trampoline and occasionally we'd have water fights. I'll admit I was bored a lot back then - one can only throw a bucket of water at Ashli so many times before it gets old. A lot of times, don't get me wrong. But that too, eventually gets old. One can only jump on the tramp for so long - no matter what kind of shape you're in - before one is too out of breath to keep going. And as I've mentioned before, things like dishes and vacuuming and such only take so long. I've actually started doing dishes every other day just so that it takes longer when I do wash them. But have I really become such a boring/uncreative person that one day without the interet leaves me climbing up the walls? That's . . . kinda pathetic, not gonna lie. And the cray thing is, now that the internet is back, I've spent more of my time reading than online. Please, tell me I'm not the only person out there who's this contrary!
On another note, I was at familysearch Sunday when the internet went down, just exploring a little because we'd talked a little about family history at church. And I was remembering how much I enjoyed it my senior year of college when I took that family history class and was starting to learn how to do everything. I want to try and start that up again - especially considering how much free time I have for it right now. The only problem is, I have no idea what to do or where to start or how to find anything. Especially considering on line I was following backward (just to see how far I coud go) went all the way back to the 1300s! How am I supposed to pick that up and go forward with it? Or any of the others even? Any tips/help would be great, at least to get me started . . .
P. ost S. cript
Another cutesy one. Team Jayla showed us this one about a month ago, and I got a kick out of it. Shay and I can both do the voice . . . although it is a bit of a strain on the vocal chords . . .
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I've Succombed . . .
I made jello yesterday. Green jello. Oh, the horror, the horror!!
In my defense, the jello was a bridal shower gift, otherwise there never would have even been any in the house. Luke and I both prefer snow cones or cookies or pudding when we want a treat. And at least there aren't any shredded carrots in there. Because we don't have any . . . but mostly because that has always sounded nasty to me. I mean seriously, who does that?! No, really, who does that? It's one of those things you hear about all the time, but nobody ever actually does, at least not that I've ever seen. Is it just a Mormon urban legend? Or did it become so cliche that now everybody jokes about it but nobody would actually do it anymore, even if they have in the past? An who came up with the nasty idea of putting vegetables in jello anyway? Eeww. I've only heard of one worse thing to do to jello. One of my roommates had an aunt who would put meat in jello. I've never seen that one, and never heard of anyone else doing it, but just the idea . . . I think I just threw up a little in my mouth just thinking about it! Anyway . . . yeah. I have to confess, there are pears in our jello. They were another bridal shower gift, and this was the only way the were ever going to be eaten, because I don't like pears just by themselves, and I can't imagine Luke eating a huge can of pear halves randomly. So at leat now there's a little more shelf space for canned fruit we'll actually eat.
You know the scariest part? I was looking at it this morning, and I realized it looks a lot like this. Eeeeeekk!!! Well, minus the . . . what is that on the top anyway? Icing? Whipped cream? Easy cheese? No matter what it is, the TAMNites are sucking me into the madness . . . help!!! Must . . . find . . . job . . . soon . . . for . . . sake . . . of . . . sanity . . . :-) I'm trying to justify myself by remembering that when we dig into it, it'll be the first time Luke has ever had "Utah" jello, and he had to be initiated sometime, right? So now he'll be prepared for all the terrifying jello creations to be found at a ward potluck, heehee. (And no, linking to that post is not an announcement, haha.)
That will be the last jello I make for . . . probably a while. Jell-O instant pudding is just as cheap, and like I said, it's really what we both prefer. And I shudder to think that I might be becoming even the slightest bit TAMN-ish . . .the horror! THE HORROR!!!!
On another note, in case anyone cares, I did finish In Your Place yesterday, and the final verdict = not that bad. It definitely improved from where I'd left off Sunday evening, and while it's much more predictable than most LDS romances, it was less corny, which was absolutely a point in its favor. And the "flashback" chapters (for lack of a better word for them) were actually a nice touch, which was another pleasant surprise. Except for the last one. Combined with the epilogue they were just overkill. I think using only either one or the other would have been much better. I'm still undecided about reading the other books I checked out . . .
P. ost S. cript
Just in case you didn't see it when I posted it on facebook yesterday. I really enjoyed the books (although The Host is better), but the movie has got to be the absolute WORST movie adaptation I've seen in a VERY long time. Like I said when I posted it yesterday, the only thing that could make this better is if Buffy told him to "google it" because . . . yeah. Worst. Line. Ever. Written. For any movie. Ever. Yeah . . . that is all.
In my defense, the jello was a bridal shower gift, otherwise there never would have even been any in the house. Luke and I both prefer snow cones or cookies or pudding when we want a treat. And at least there aren't any shredded carrots in there. Because we don't have any . . . but mostly because that has always sounded nasty to me. I mean seriously, who does that?! No, really, who does that? It's one of those things you hear about all the time, but nobody ever actually does, at least not that I've ever seen. Is it just a Mormon urban legend? Or did it become so cliche that now everybody jokes about it but nobody would actually do it anymore, even if they have in the past? An who came up with the nasty idea of putting vegetables in jello anyway? Eeww. I've only heard of one worse thing to do to jello. One of my roommates had an aunt who would put meat in jello. I've never seen that one, and never heard of anyone else doing it, but just the idea . . . I think I just threw up a little in my mouth just thinking about it! Anyway . . . yeah. I have to confess, there are pears in our jello. They were another bridal shower gift, and this was the only way the were ever going to be eaten, because I don't like pears just by themselves, and I can't imagine Luke eating a huge can of pear halves randomly. So at leat now there's a little more shelf space for canned fruit we'll actually eat.
You know the scariest part? I was looking at it this morning, and I realized it looks a lot like this. Eeeeeekk!!! Well, minus the . . . what is that on the top anyway? Icing? Whipped cream? Easy cheese? No matter what it is, the TAMNites are sucking me into the madness . . . help!!! Must . . . find . . . job . . . soon . . . for . . . sake . . . of . . . sanity . . . :-) I'm trying to justify myself by remembering that when we dig into it, it'll be the first time Luke has ever had "Utah" jello, and he had to be initiated sometime, right? So now he'll be prepared for all the terrifying jello creations to be found at a ward potluck, heehee. (And no, linking to that post is not an announcement, haha.)
That will be the last jello I make for . . . probably a while. Jell-O instant pudding is just as cheap, and like I said, it's really what we both prefer. And I shudder to think that I might be becoming even the slightest bit TAMN-ish . . .the horror! THE HORROR!!!!
On another note, in case anyone cares, I did finish In Your Place yesterday, and the final verdict = not that bad. It definitely improved from where I'd left off Sunday evening, and while it's much more predictable than most LDS romances, it was less corny, which was absolutely a point in its favor. And the "flashback" chapters (for lack of a better word for them) were actually a nice touch, which was another pleasant surprise. Except for the last one. Combined with the epilogue they were just overkill. I think using only either one or the other would have been much better. I'm still undecided about reading the other books I checked out . . .
P. ost S. cript
Just in case you didn't see it when I posted it on facebook yesterday. I really enjoyed the books (although The Host is better), but the movie has got to be the absolute WORST movie adaptation I've seen in a VERY long time. Like I said when I posted it yesterday, the only thing that could make this better is if Buffy told him to "google it" because . . . yeah. Worst. Line. Ever. Written. For any movie. Ever. Yeah . . . that is all.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
It's official. I'm old.
I suppose I should have expected this. After all, I do live in the town that is the home of Bear River University. But it honestly never even occurred to me. Especially since, of all the people I know, very few of them actually live in or near the town they grew up in. Except for people around here. Except for the people I went to high school with.
I went to high school with the first counselor in our ward's bishopric. That has go to be one of the weirdest things I've ever experienced. I recognized him right off the bat . . . sort of. It was more one of those "is that . . . no . . . but maybe . . . surely not . . . well . . . " sort of things that was confirmed when I heard someone else call him by name. That was weird, but I rather expected it, because, like I said, a good 75% of any and every graduating class or good ol' Berver (how it's pronounced with a Utah accent) goes to Logan, and I imagine few of them ever leave. Unless they go back to Box Elder County. It's one of those instances where everybody knows everybody, at least sort of. Yesterday our ward held a little "linger longer" (something I've only seen in one other ward) and someone else recognized me as Ashli's older sister. I didn't recognize her at all, although I have the distinct feeling that I should have, and her name is a little familiar. But still - no idea who she is or how she recognized me. It's like a high school reunion that never ends and you don't have to wait ten years for. I suppose you could say the same thing about facebook . . . but on facebook people who know Ashli leave me alone unless they actually know me too. And everyone is more or less an equal, still in high school for all intents and purposes, not first counselors in your bishopric.
Which takes me back to my original point. That is so weird. Bishopric dudes are supposed to be . . . old. Wise. Grandfatherly. At least out of college for heaven's sake!!! (did I mention we go to a student ward?) Granted, I'm aware of the fact that in singles' wards and married student wards they'll often call some young dude for . . . training purposes, for lack of a better phrase. I've seen it before, I mean, I was only in FIVE different singles' wards in the last seven years. I know how it works. I've seen young guys up on the stand before. But they were never guys I'd known before knowing them "on the stand" so to speak. They were never someone I'd seen goofing off at lunchtime, debating whether or not to skip seminary (or math, or english, or insert other class here). I could always imagine that they were actually in they're mid-to-late-thirties or older, and just happened to have a bit of a baby face. Not happening this time. I know exactly how old he is . . . more or less . . . because he's my age. He walked across the same platform stage I did in that stuffy high school gym, seven letters behind me alphabetically. If I wanted to, I could grab my yearbook and count exactly how many people were between the two of in shaking . . . what's-his-butt's hand. (Yeah, I don't remember the principal's name. I never saw him much. He was a bit more of a voice-from-the-intercom than a "pal" principal.)
It's so crazy. All these things that I always imagined I would never be old enough for . . . not only am I doing them, people younger than me are doing them too!! (looking at you Shayla! And Brad! Katie! Jesse! And . . . yeah . . . just . . . all'a y'all) So does the fact that I'm reaching a point where my peers and I are doing all these things that I always thought required a level of . . . maturity, I guess . . . mean that I actually am that mature? And does that mean that this is what maturity feels like? And if that's the case, that really sucks. It feels way too much like immaturity if you ask me.
P.ost S.cript
I've decided to start including stuff I find online in all my blogs. Being broke, Luke and I have found a cheap, yet hysterically awesome source of constant entertainment - youtube videos!! We'll go to one we like and just click on links to related videos for hours. Most are amusing, some are really lame, and some are true gems. Here's one of my current favorites:
I went to high school with the first counselor in our ward's bishopric. That has go to be one of the weirdest things I've ever experienced. I recognized him right off the bat . . . sort of. It was more one of those "is that . . . no . . . but maybe . . . surely not . . . well . . . " sort of things that was confirmed when I heard someone else call him by name. That was weird, but I rather expected it, because, like I said, a good 75% of any and every graduating class or good ol' Berver (how it's pronounced with a Utah accent) goes to Logan, and I imagine few of them ever leave. Unless they go back to Box Elder County. It's one of those instances where everybody knows everybody, at least sort of. Yesterday our ward held a little "linger longer" (something I've only seen in one other ward) and someone else recognized me as Ashli's older sister. I didn't recognize her at all, although I have the distinct feeling that I should have, and her name is a little familiar. But still - no idea who she is or how she recognized me. It's like a high school reunion that never ends and you don't have to wait ten years for. I suppose you could say the same thing about facebook . . . but on facebook people who know Ashli leave me alone unless they actually know me too. And everyone is more or less an equal, still in high school for all intents and purposes, not first counselors in your bishopric.
Which takes me back to my original point. That is so weird. Bishopric dudes are supposed to be . . . old. Wise. Grandfatherly. At least out of college for heaven's sake!!! (did I mention we go to a student ward?) Granted, I'm aware of the fact that in singles' wards and married student wards they'll often call some young dude for . . . training purposes, for lack of a better phrase. I've seen it before, I mean, I was only in FIVE different singles' wards in the last seven years. I know how it works. I've seen young guys up on the stand before. But they were never guys I'd known before knowing them "on the stand" so to speak. They were never someone I'd seen goofing off at lunchtime, debating whether or not to skip seminary (or math, or english, or insert other class here). I could always imagine that they were actually in they're mid-to-late-thirties or older, and just happened to have a bit of a baby face. Not happening this time. I know exactly how old he is . . . more or less . . . because he's my age. He walked across the same platform stage I did in that stuffy high school gym, seven letters behind me alphabetically. If I wanted to, I could grab my yearbook and count exactly how many people were between the two of in shaking . . . what's-his-butt's hand. (Yeah, I don't remember the principal's name. I never saw him much. He was a bit more of a voice-from-the-intercom than a "pal" principal.)
It's so crazy. All these things that I always imagined I would never be old enough for . . . not only am I doing them, people younger than me are doing them too!! (looking at you Shayla! And Brad! Katie! Jesse! And . . . yeah . . . just . . . all'a y'all) So does the fact that I'm reaching a point where my peers and I are doing all these things that I always thought required a level of . . . maturity, I guess . . . mean that I actually am that mature? And does that mean that this is what maturity feels like? And if that's the case, that really sucks. It feels way too much like immaturity if you ask me.
P.ost S.cript
I've decided to start including stuff I find online in all my blogs. Being broke, Luke and I have found a cheap, yet hysterically awesome source of constant entertainment - youtube videos!! We'll go to one we like and just click on links to related videos for hours. Most are amusing, some are really lame, and some are true gems. Here's one of my current favorites:
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