A Temple Trip of Titanic Proportions

The following announcement(or one that somewhat resembles it) took place at the Parke Avenue Branch a few weeks ago:

Member of the Branch Presidency: I have some great news! We have an appointment to participate in temple baptisms at the Idaho Falls temple!
Branch: Hooray! We LOVE temple trips!
Member of the Branch Presidency: Our appointment is at 6:30 so we will need to be there at 6.
Branch: Woo whoo! Performing vicarious ordinances for the dead rocks! Member of the Branch Presidency: I'm so glad you feel that way because when I said that we need to be there by six, I meant 6 a.m.
Branch: Huh? (followed by confused silence)
Member of the Branch Presidency: That means we need to leave here by 4 a.m.
Branch: Ha, ha, ha, ha! That's a good one, you hilarious priesthood leader, you! You sure had a going for a while there. Ha, ha, ha! Now...when are we really leaving?
Member of the Branch Presidency: Ummm...that wasn't a joke. We really do need to leave here at 4 a.m. Now, how many of you are planning to attend?
Branch: ... (sound of crickets chirping)

In an attempt to sweeten the deal a little (and lessen the pain of early rising a lot), Randy and I volunteered to make use of our south-eastern Idaho connections (our parents) and host dueling sleepovers the night before the temple trip.

The girls would be spending the night at my folks place in Idaho Falls...

...and the boys would be spending the night in Randy's home "town" of Firth. Don't know where "Firth" is located? Well, as my Dad wisely says, "Drive West from Idaho Falls until you're depressed. That's Firth."

The locations of the separate sleepovers, combined with the genders of the attendees made for two very different evenings.

In Idaho Falls, the girls talked about college apartments, first kisses, and governmental fiscal responsibility at the federal level in the decades between the Truman and Carter administrations.

While in Firth, the boys exchanged grunts and other manly sounds and then played a rousing game of "Guess What Made That Smell".

Later, in Idaho Falls, the girls drank fruity drinks out of pretty glasses, munched on pigs-in-a-blanket, gummies, and popcorn.

While out in Firth, the boys watched a coyote gnaw on an old bone.

In Idaho Falls, the evening ended with the girls watching movies while safely tucked in beds up stairs or on the couches in the living room.

In Firth, the boys went to bed early and counted tumble weeds as they drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the girls awoke to a breakfast of maple cinnamon rolls and fresh fruit.

Out in Firth, the boys awoke to the sound of Herb, the town's blind, one-legged rooster, crowing to signal the dawning of a bright new day...before being gummed to death by Phil, the town's balding, toothless dog.

The boys and girls eventually met up at the temple to participate in the work of the redemption of the dead. Then we went to a nearby park where the boys cooked and served breakfast burritos in order to facilitate another game of "Guess What Made That Smell" on the drive home.

But we didn't climb into our poorly ventilated vehicles and hit the freeway right away.

First we visited the Titanic Exhibit at the Museum of Idaho. We really had a good time and learned a lot. When we entered the exhibit, we each received a boarding pass that contained the name and personal information of a real passenger from the doomed ship. Then, when we reached the end of the tour, we checked the memorial wall to see if we survived the journey.

The following conversation about those boarding passes(or one that somewhat resembles it) took place as we were leaving the museum:

Zealanda: Did you survive?

Mindy: Nope. I died. So did my husband and our nine kids. Froze to death. Even the four-year-old.

Zealanda: Wow. That's sad.

Mindy: Yep. But it could have been worse.

Zealanda: Really? Worse? What would have been worse than you and your family succumbing to hypothermia after your ship broke in half and sank?

Mindy: We might have survived the sinking and then ended up at a sleepover in Firth with the Elder's Quorum.

Zealanda: Playing "Guess What Made That Smell"?

Mindy: Uh Huh.

Zealanda: Hmmmm...When you think about it that way, you kinda feel happy for Leo at the end of the movie.

Mindy: Yep. I'm pretty sure his nostrils quit working when they were frozen.

Which of the following statements correctly identifies the theme of this post?

A. Temple attendance brings great blessings.

B. Girl sleepovers are much better than boy sleepovers.

C. Mindy and Randy's moms were really, really nice to let a bunch of YSA's crash at their homes.

D. A rousing game of "Guess That Smell" can really put epic historical tragedies into perspective.

Fouls, Fielders, Fashion and Fans

My cute little branch is currently in the "softball-overload" phase of the summer, wherein we have 7-stake YSA softball on Tuesdays, stake softball on Thursdays, and various other softball related practices and FHEs scattered throughout the rest of the week.

The softball-overload phase is a normal part of Branch life, regularly falling between the early summer "service project overload" and the midsummer "boating activity overload", and usually results in a few superficial hanstring injuries and a handful of mildly serious intra-branch romances (both of which, coincidentally, can be successfully treated with ice and slow walks around the adjacent ward building) . But this post isn't about ball field action, it is about something with much more important implications: FASHION.

Of course, when I started mind-mapping this post, fashion was not on my literary radar. Originally, I set out to take pictures to illustrate a post about "Branch Ball", the cool name that Melissa came up with to describe the objective-mutilated, rule-mangled "sport" our branch "plays" when there aren't players from actual wards around to keep us honest.

My original post was going to start out with this picture of Brother Roskelly, one half of our beloved missionary couple, trying to organize our motley crew into two teams.

Then I was going to move on to this photo that totally summed up the feelings of my fellow bleacher bums in regards to the prospect of actually, you know, catching and batting and (shudder) running. Seriously...I could have sliced up this group photo into individual portraits and written full paragraphs explaining the thoughts behind each facial expression. That was the plan.

And then Tricia showed up and my train of thought jumped from the catcher's box to the catwalk. Here's how it happened: Tricia, lifeguard-by-morning/hairdresser-extraordinaire-by-afternoon/swim-instructor-by-evening, arrived at the softball field directly from the pool and promptly began lamenting about how her still damp swimming suit under her capris gave casual observers the impression that she could use a copy of the "WeeMinder Potty Training System" (only $19.99 on Amazon!) . Then Tricia said something to the effect of, "I wish I could just wear a giant sign that told people that it just looks like I wet my pants because I just came from the swimming pool."

To which the always delightfully observant Melissa replied, "Ummm...you kinda are."

And just like that (picture, if you will, a quick snap of my fingers) , my focus went from full counts to fashionable clothing.

For example, my inner Project Runway judge adored that the pitcher and catcher for team "Parke" were wearing matching shirts. Accident of fate? Trick of the fashion gods? Or the result of carefully exchanged Facebook messaging? Like the 'Miracle on the Hudson', we may never understand how it happened, we just need to be thankful that it did.

My emerging fashonista persona also briefly merged with my long-repressed desire to be the Channel Five weather girl and noticed how the wardrobe choices of various team members reflected Idaho's ever-changing weather patterns. Some people wore long pants and sweat shirts, others played in shorts and T's. And some wise players, like newly-discovered softball-prodigy Krystal, went with long sleeves and short pants. A uniform for all seasons, so that only one half of her body could get sunburned and/or frostbit during the course of the game.

The choice to embrace or reject headgear also intrigued me as I watched the game, and a closer inspection of the photos later on led to an interesting discovery. It turns out, guys who hold Priesthood leadership positions are more likely to wear hats during softball games. I'm not sure, however, if the choice to wear a hat is related to priesthood leader's increase in maturity or decrease in hairlines. Further research is needed to know for sure.

As a female, I am firmly aware that footwear is a focal point of fashion finding. I was very impressed that several of the branch boys had come prepared with sports-appropriate shoes.

But I was even more impressed with the number of branch gals who went sans-shoe for the entire game. They played well and proved an important point:

Pink toenail polish can do just as much for your game skills as steroids, without all of the harmful side effects. Major-leaguers take note!

Now, please don't think that our collective branch focus on ball field fashion has anything to do with the fact that we are a "singles" branch and our last two Sunday school lessons have not-so-delicately reminded us that participation the New and Everlasting Covenant of Marriage is necessary to book reservations in the highest suites of Celestial existence.

No!

We don't dress to impress potential eternal companions!

We dress to impress our fans.

Our fans who are at the field to watch us play every day, rain or shine. Wind or, slightly less wind (this is Idaho, after all) .

Let me introduce you to our biggest fans....They really are quite vocal...

"Moooo!"

"See girls, I knew she would get tagged out if she tried to milk that double for a triple!"
"Wow! Look at the way that guy can hoof it around those bases!"

"Ouch! That line drive just smacked the poor kid in the calf !"

"Can you believe the way the "Avenue' team is trash talking? That is udderly uncalled for!"

"Look at the score! The 'Parke' team is so far behind only bovine intervention can save them now!"

"Is the umpire blind?!? ! That call was bull-oni!!!"

At this point you might be asking yourself, "Was this whole post just one really, really LONG setup for a bunch of stupid cow puns?"

And my answer to you would be, "Like the 'Miracle on the Hudson', we may never know why this happened, we just need to be thankful that it did.

A Very, Very Long Answer to a Simple Question

This week at FHE Courtney, one of my former 8th graders who is now a member of our singles branch (do not even get me started on THAT) , asked me how I was. I told her that I was "tired and ready for a nap", to which she responded... "Tired? How can you be tired? Its summer vacation and you are a teacher! Why on earth are you tired?"

Well, my dearest, sweetest Courtney... I might be tired because the first two weeks of my summer vacation have looked something like this:

I worked in my classroom for a couple hours each day, lesson planning and trying to organize the files I spent the last 9 months scrambling.

I have been cleaning and organizing my apartment...an important task that the giant mutated dust bunnies and the new forms of life growing around my bathroom window tell me that I have been seriously neglecting since last August.

I drove back and forth to Utah TWICE.
I attended and cheered at a t-ball game, a coach-pitch game, and a stake softball game.

I "finished up" the yearbook stuff AGAIN. Turns out, there is no such thing as "finishing up" yearbook stuff. It just goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and...

I said goodbye to my most baby-est brother as he entered the MTC.

I discovered the joy of eating the only cupcakes on earth that are worth $3 a pop.

And I have been walking with Elizabeth in the mornings to walk off those $3 cupcakes. But, since it is summer vacation, I no longer have to get up at 4:45 a.m. to exercise with Liz. In the summer, she lets me sleep in until 5:45 a.m. I LOVE summer vacation!!!

I have watched about seven of the ten edited "Band of Brothers" episodes that I DVR-ed off of the History Channel over Veteran's Day weekend.

I have also been doing some reading. During my five-day stay at my sister's house I read...Band of Brothers (twice) by Stephen E. Ambrose, The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick, Aunt Dimity: Vampire Hunter by Nancy Atherton, and four or five of the Princess Tales books by Gail Carson Levine.

I have been working hard to reach my goal of significantly increased temple attendance by taking advantage our our beautiful new temple as often as possible.

And planting and tending to my cute little gardens.

Oh, and I have spent several days chasing around my little niblets. Here is my nephew Jonah modeling a few of the items he purchased when I took the three oldest boys on a shopping spree at the dollar store. I don't think I am allowed to take the three oldest boys on shopping sprees to the dollar store any more.
And even though it is summer and school is out, I am still spending the bulk of my time in lesson planning. Between my Sunday school and institute classes, I have a lot of lesson prep that needs to be done each week.

For example, this week's lesson on the three degree's of glory required some posters that showed a few of "the world's" beliefs about life after death...

...and some easy to understand explanations about the degrees of glory, as explained in Doctrine and Covenants section 76. I was going to go with the whole "sun, moon, stars" thing, but after having my backside handed to me in my recent space knowledge competition with my 7-year-old nephew, I decided to take a different direction. Imagine the Celestial Kingdom as spending time in a beautiful temple where every night is prime rib night in the cafeteria. The Terrestrial Kingdom could then be compared to spending the afterlife in the Tabernacle. It is a nice looking building with great acoustics and occasional visits from general authorities...but sitting on those hard wooden benches for eternity? No thank you. That leaves us with the Telestial Kingdom as compared to a never ending Elders Quorum service project. There are worse ways to spend eternity, but come on. The Elders Quorum doesn't even serve refreshments!

And think of the time it takes to brainstorm, build, print, and fold a travel brochure for the lesson. Handouts like that don't just grow on trees!

So, in answer to your question: Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Clause. He lives in... Wait.

That wasn't the question I was answering.

In fact, this stinkin' post has gone on for so long that I don't even remember what question I was supposed to be answering.

I guess I could scroll back up to the top of this post...but that would take so long and I'm pretty darn tired. I think I'll just take a nap.

Appreciation

A few weeks ago, our wonderful PTSO and administration treated the staff at our school to five days worth of teacher appreciation gifts and treats. The cookies and roses and post-its and highlighters made me feel very loved and deeply appreciated. But it was the Teacher Appreciation Week gift from the local teacher's union that made me feel "understood." Now, you may be wondering how a cute little cup filled with M&Ms and decorated with sparkly stars and a pretty paper flower could make me feel "understood". Well, you can tell that this gift was thought-up by people who have spent time working in the public education system because, when you take out the M&Ms and the pretty paper flower...
... you can see it for what it really is: A Shot Glass.
Honestly, I am a little surprised that an AA hotline phone number wasn't embossed on the bottom. Oh, and to answer your unasked question, yes I have used it. I am not ashamed to admit that there are days when a snort of chocolate milk out of a shot glass is the only thing that gets me through.


Perusing the photos of Teacher Appreciation Week left me pondering the people in my life who deserve more outward shows of appreciation. Just last Saturday our branch hosted the second annual 7-Stake YSA Talent Show where my friend Becca agreed to co-MC with me, despite the fact that she has graduated from being a YSA to a YM&PA (young, married, and pregnant adult). I really appreciate Becca.

I also really appreciated everyone else who helped out that night, including Krystal and Randy. Krystal agreed to share an "impromptu talent" (hitting on a guy using smooth pick-up lines) and Randy kind of agreed to let me bully him into being the recipient of Krystal's smooth moves. I really appreciate Krystal and Randy.

My new branch presidency has also earned a massive amount of my appreciation. They solved the FHE parking dilemma by providing a way for us to utilize the stake center parking lot without having to walk all the way around the block to get to President Barlow's house.

But most importantly, they performed a show-stopping number at the 7-stake talent show. And not only were they the only branch presidency who participated, they dressed and danced and clunked like chickens in front of a huge crowd.

Really.



But a June 1st post about appreciation just wouldn't be complete without mentioning my very much appreciated parents who were married in the Oakland Temple 36 years ago today.

I also appreciate the groovy photographer, who put down whatever leftover 60's era drugs he had been smoking earlier that day, and took these very artistic, very groovy engagement photos for them.

Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad. Please know that you are both very much appreciated by your 6 kids, 3 kids-in-law, 7 grandbabies, and 2 grandpuppies.

And probably by that photographer, who I'm pretty sure used your engagement photo sitting fee to purchase more "inspiration" from Mary Jane's House of Herbal Enlightenment. But appreciation is appreciation, right? And after 36 years, you have deserved all the appreciation you can get.

LOVE YA!