Dear Jones Family,

We missed you at Family Home Evening tonight. I gave the lesson on this talk while wearing my wicked witch of the west socks. I found it interesting that, while every junior high kidlet in the building commented on my socks today, no one at FHE did. Instead my fellow branchers looked...and then tried not to look. Basically the same way polite people respond when the person talking to them (or giving the FHE lesson) has something in their teeth or hanging out of their nose. I'm sure Kristy would have complemented me on my socks...which made me miss her even more!

After the lesson, we played hockey. Everyone was extra excited because the Hobsons finally made bail and were back running the show at FHE.

Some people exercised their free agency and chose to watch the hockey game rather than play. If only they had known that sitting on the sidelines was twice as dangerous as actually playing, tragedy might have been averted. But the ambulance drivers assured us that a good plastic surgeon will be able to make these lovely sisters look just as beautiful as they did before a hockey puck (and three Elder's Quorum members) crashed into them.

Cassie chose not to sit on the sidelines and turned out to be one of the red team's star players. We were all pretty surprised when she high-sticked Hyatt and then sent Todd careening into the wall, but she was really sweet about helping both guys pick their teeth up off the floor after the game.

Lacie also got a little violent over the course of the evening, but her rage wasn't hockey related. She was upset because I wasn't going to put her picture on this blog post. I tried to explain to her that she was on the last post twice and needed to give someone else a turn but, as you can see from the photo below, she demanded to have her photo taken and I finally obliged.

Jess came and played for a while too, but mostly just so she could show off her new ring... tone. :)

Toward the end of the night, Sister Hobson went toe-to-toe with Sister Barker in an epic battle for the puck that will live on in infamy in the history of the PAB. Seriously, poets will write sonnets about the clash of their sticks and wandering town minstrels will compose songs about the way they both dived for the puck.

When the game was over, the winning team shook hands with the not-winning team... while the not-winning team wiped their noses on their hands and then shook hands with the winning team. Bad sports or just victims of a post nasal drip...you be the judge.

Although the game did get a little rough, I am pleased to say (or type, as the case may be) that there were very few casualties:

The red team's goalie, who spent more time on the ground than on his feet, tried blocking the goal with some sort of ballet move and ended up ripping a hole in his pants. I was going to post some pictures of that, but then I remembered that Kristy would be reading this and I didn't want her to have to carry that image around with her for the rest of her life. She can thank me when she gets home.

The second casualty was one of the hockey sticks (borrowed by Liza from her mother's school) .

Our fearless Elder's Quorum president got a little bit carried away and ended up using some of his newly acquired National Guard training to beat the stick into submission.

Poor Liza got the same treatment as her hockey stick during the game when Derek mistook her for an enemy combatant...six or seven times.

We hope you are having a great time in the snowy and/or slushy south. We miss you all, but are doing just fine.

Except Liza.

But we have every hope that she will make a complete recovery...in three or four months.

Have a safe drive home!

Love and handshakes,

The Parke Avenue Branch