One Year Later...

One year ago, I was unceremoniously drop-kicked out of my beloved YSA branch.

Wait.

I did get a very nice diploma. It was printed on fancy paper, rolled up, and tied with a ribbon. And it was presented at my last branch FHE, so....

One year ago, I was ceremoniously drop-kicked out of my beloved YSA branch. That was kind of traumatic for me. Tears and cussing were involved. I may or may not have considered using hot-pink spray paint to vandalize the stake president's cattle herd.

It was a dark time.

Thankfully, I was quickly adopted into the family home evening group that my former branch leaders had started when they were drop-kicked out of the branch eight months earlier. Having an FHE to attend has been wonderful for me, and I think it worked out well for those cattle too. Hot pink definitely wasn't their color.


Being a former brancher has still be weird, though. Before last year, my life pretty much revolved around the kidlets and the branchers. I still miss attending all of the many, many activities, like this February's branch weekday Relief Society meeting.

Lacie taught the branch-ettes how to crochet. Had I still been a card-carrying young single adult instead of an old single adult, I would have been right there with them. I would have spent the evening teasing Lacie, taking a ton of photos, and sloppily trying to turn yarn into a scarf.

Sigh.

It would have been a blast.

I would have really liked to have been there.

Oh wait. I was there. But I wasn't crashing the party illegally trying to relive my youth. I was on official stake Relief Society business. You can tell because I was wearing a skirt. A non-denim skirt. That skirt is as official and non-apostate as skirts get.

And it's not like I could pass up an opportunity to use yarn created and endorsed by Vanna White. I never would have forgiven myself for squandering a chance like that.

But even though I still like to keep one, slightly apostate toe in the familiar branch waters, I am very grateful for the opportunities I have to immerse myself in the spiritual and culinary fountain of youth that is my wonderful FHE group.

Our FHE's are beautiful in every way: beautiful people with beautiful souls sharing beautiful food in beautiful homes while sharing beautiful lessons and testimonies.

Plus, every FHE is a "feed the flock" FHE. Dinner and a lesson? How could Monday nights get better than that?

Kristi could be there!

And there is another bonus blessing to being a part of this particular family home evening group too: No showing up for FHEs only to discover that the planned activity is speed dating.

Again.

Of course, there is a downside to my current situation too. I have to constantly deal with the possibility that the other people in the FHE group could be translated at any moment. Sure, being twinkled would be nice for them, but I would like to get a few more evening in with all of them before they go all City-of-Enoch on me.

Without them, I would be forced to hold my own private family home evenings. And now that President Sagers is serving a cattle-less mission and WalMart has cut back on its spray paint inventory, I wouldn't even know how to begin to plan an alternate FHE activity.

So if you all could pray for my FHE group NOT to be translated any time soon, that would be great. If not for my sake, then for the cows'.

Happy Birthday Miss H!

(Thanksgiving 1999)

From all of us!

(I promise to only hack your account for really important posts.

Love, your big sister!)

Post-Edit: To the Hacker, from the Hack-ee

Hacked by my own sister?!? Wait till my therapist hears about this.

Except I don’t have a therapist.

Ha! Wait till my dentist hears about this!

But he will probably just tell me that using the same password for everything is a bad idea. Dentists are pragmatic like that.

So I guess I will just say, “Thanks for the hack.”

Loves,
Me

Lovin' the Labor

This Sunday, Jolene, Sue, and I get to help with the Relief Society Lesson for 5th Ward's ward conference. The lesson title is, "Work and Personal Responsibility". One of the sections says, in part:

To some people work is a drudgery. To others it is an exciting part of life. One way to enjoy life’s fullest benefits is to learn to love work. Not all of us can choose the kind of work we do. Some of us labor for long hours for the bare necessities. It is difficult to enjoy such work. Yet the happiest people have learned to enjoy their work, whatever it is.

That got me thinking about my "work". It's not glamorous, like being a movie star. It's not illustrious, like being a brain surgeon. It's not relaxing like being a La-Z Boy quality control tester.

And it certainly isn't as dreamy as being an official Wrangler-fitter for the PRCA.
But, despite the junior high's distressing lack of rodeo cowboys (Although we are looking for a new boy's PE teacher for next year...I wonder if the principal would let me write the job description?), I can't imagine doing anything else.

Where else can improvement and productivity be encouraged and rewarded with the chance to find a piece of bubble gum in a bowl of flour, unwrap it, and chew it... all without using your hands?

This was a particularly good week to work at this particular junior high.

This week, the earth science classes had a competition to see who could build the most earthquake-resistant house.

It was almost as cool as last month's science and technology class's final project for their crime scene technician unit. As a suspect in the "murder" pictured below, I was finger printed and questioned about twenty six times. It was a blast. Although next year I am going to petition to be the victim or the actual bad guy. I would be a great bad guy...

This week was also spent getting ready for Random Acts of Kindness Week. The whole building looks like a somebody blew up a Care Bear convention and scattered their warm and fuzzy guts over the walls. Their notes were so sweet, I was able to overcome the urge to take to the halls with my red pen to correct their spelling and grammar.

And then there was Thursday's Valentine "dance". I popped in to take some yearbook photos and, after recovering from the overpowering perfume and cologne fumes, was pleased to see that a few of the kids were actually dancing.
And, even though my "lunch hour" is really 30 minutes wherein I scarf down an apple before hosting the "it's-too-cold-to-go-outside-today-can-we-stay-in-your-room" crowd, even "break time" isn't boring. Google may have an in-building work-out center for their employees, and Yahoo might let their programmers ride bikes through the hallways, but I doubt they have air band competitions at lunch. At least, not with air bands of this quality.
I feel very blessed to be one of those people who loves to go to "work". Even when the communications kidlets write on my chalkboard with the chalk that I hide from them so they can't write on my chalkboard.
As far as "work" goes, it doesn't get much better than this... until the PRCA gets around to processing my Wrangler-inspector application.

And that could be a summer job.

At least, for the days this summer when I'm not talent-scouting for a new PE teacher.

I can't wait to start listing the qualifications for that help wanted ad. Chaps might be involved.

I wonder if rodeo programs have help wanted sections...

A Very Moving Post

One week ago, my amazing family and friends helped me move... ... my books to their new home.

They helped to move a lot of other things too. Big things. Heavy things. Big and Heavy things. They moved them all.

And although I am so so so so so so so so grateful to them all for moving ALL of my things, it was the moving of my books that touched me the most.

Because books are very important to me, as you might recall from THIS 2008 POST.

Books are also very heavy. They are especially heavy, and awkward to carry, in the quantities in which I tend to acquire them. Not quite as heavy and awkward as my giant couch, but still.

So I want to say, "Thanks!" to everyone who helped my books and I get settled in our new place. I love you all more than I love my books. Which is really saying something.

Now, if I could only find some way for that love of reading to apply to all of the English essays and creative writing assignments that I was suppose to grade this weekend (insert exhausted sigh here) .

Or I could reread the Ranger's Apprentice series I just unpacked. Hummm....

Sorry, kidlets. Grades are over-rated anyway. Forget all of that A and B nonsense. It's more important for you to learn the joy and sense of accomplishment that comes from doing good work just for the sake of doing good work. That is a nice feeling.

Almost as nice as getting lost in a good book. You should try it sometime.

But not tonight.

You have pre-algebra homework to do tonight, and it can't be handed in late because, unlike your English teacher, your math teacher is going to actually grade your assignments at some point.