Chaste by an Elephant

Today I walked into RelSoc, fully expecting to be spiritually fed via another lesson that I could not hear a word of due to the air conditioning. But that is not what I got.

My bishop for this springtime is a fantastic bishop. He is shortish, and spryish, and sweetish. (Not to be confused with Swedish.) He is enthusiastic and friendly and one of those bishops that just radiates charity. It was this man who stood up immediately following the opening prayer.

"We have this lesson at least once a year," he began. "The dreaded chastity lesson. And I know my daughters didn't always - or ever - love getting this lesson from me, so I'm sorry that I have to be the one to teach it to you girls."

"I think you'll do a wonderful job, Bishop!" one girl exclaimed rapturously.

A catcall? The bishop lost his concentration for a moment. "What's that?" he asked, smile still intact as he looked around the room, trying to identify the interrupter.

"I said, you'll do a wonderful job, Bishop," she said, a little less rapturously.

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that," he said, and tried to get back on track. "I'll just do my best."

He clicked a button and an image of Mt. Rushmore appeared on the screen behind him."Who has ever been here?" he asked. A few hands went up.

"Where is he going with this?" I wondered. "Is he going to take the all-of-these-men-did-it route? The, everyone-is-doing-it-but-you-have-to-do-it-at-the-right-time-with-the-right-person, route?"

"What did you think of it?" the bishop asked.

"It was cool," one girl said. "It wasn't as big as I thought it would be."

"Oh no!" I thought. "You can't say that in a chastity lesson!"

"Exactly!" the bishop said.

......wait, what?

"That's what most people say when they see Mt. Rushmore," he continued. Lots of emphasis on every other word: "It's not, as big, as they thought, it would be."

K but, really. Where are you going with this.

"We'll come back to this idea later," the bishop said. "Right now I want to show you this:"

Another button, and there was the bishop in a beautiful cream-colored tuxedo with a very big bow tie. His hairs were combed neatly. His date's hairs were feathered, just as neatly.

I don't remember why he wanted to show us this picture.....but I do remember that the catcaller struck again when that image lit up the screen. "Lookin' good, bishop!" she cried out.

I think the bishop anticipated some awkwardness in teaching this lesson, but he hadn't quite expected it in the form of loud compliments directed at him. His cheeks flared up and he coughed out an uncomfortable little laugh.

And then, he went on to teach a wonderful lesson. One of the best lessons about chastity that I have sat uncomfortably through. A rocky beginning

ehm, pun intended....

 did not deter my bishop from finishing strong.

2nd place goes to

and 3rd place to 

"What is...? Oh... Getting to know the opposite sex are we? Male female dynamics, all that. Sexual tension... it's all part of the high school experience... Continue, continue, please. But keep it cleaned up. Abstinence is key, abstinence is the best way, to not is....to not."

Aaaand I'd better just stop talking about it now. Happy Sunday!

(Almost) In-and-(promptly back) out

Every day, on my way home from work, I get smacked in the face by the smell of this:

Hello California, thanks for the calories.

Uhhhh. But don't panic! I have developed several coping mechanisms, including:

- moving to the left lane so I can't turn into that place
- only buying a burger if I can buy it with cash
- and never buying fries
- eating a little snack before I leave school so I'm not so hungry on the drive home
- keeping the windows rolled up tight and trying not to inhale when I pass it
- although that never works, because the smell is very insistent
- reminding myself that I have a friend who works there, and it will be embarrassing if I go too often.

Usually, at least one of these coping mechanisms works and I make it home and it's fine. But sometimes, I'm driving home, and I forget to get in the left lane, and I smell that smell, and someone takes my steering wheel and forces me to turn in to that parking lot. And sometimes I really deserve it, and a hamburger is, after all, a good source of protein, and I mean really, $2.10 for a meal is not bad. So I forgive myself and move on and feel all happy.

Today I was feeling a little down-in-the-dumps as I was driving home, and even though I wasn't really all that hungry, I decided I needed to treat myself! And I thought, they have served hash browns in my school cafeteria for 2 days and I have wanted those little buggers both days, and I haven't gotten them, so I might as well get myself some fries from In-n-Out!

So I turned in. And that's where I saw her.

She was driving a green Jeep Cherokee. Her hairs were piled in a little nest on top of her head. Her husband sat in the passenger seat, and three tweenage kids sat in the back. Her arm flab sat happily on her rolled-down window.

The line for the drive-through was quite long, so it went out into the parking lot, and even though she was next in line, I didn't see her when I pulled up. Neither did the Toyota Corolla pulling up from the other side, so we both started edging up, trying to find a good spot to get in line. We saw each other. We both waved apologetically and stopped.

Only then did I notice the nest-haired Cherokee driver. She had already noticed me, of course, and was gesturing and talking angrily at her husband about the whole thing.

Even though she had chosen an absolutely asinine place to continue the line at the drive-thru, I acknowledged that she had been there first, and was before me in line. So I smiled and waved to let her know that I knew that she was before me in the line.

She nodded ferociously and pointed this way and that to clarify that I was darn right about that. A little piece of hair flipped out of her nest and fell down into her eyes. Her husband said something. She turned and snarled something at him.

She looked ridiculous. I gave her a huge smile and a thumbs-up to let her know we could still be friends.

She tried to give me a thumbs-up in return, but got a hand-twitch at the last second and her thumb didn't quite make it. Another finger subbed in.

And that's when I realized, I cannot eat here. I might turn into her. I cannot do that. I cannot be someone who gets mad in the drive-thru line of In-n-Out. I will not stand for it. I put Carbaby in reverse. I surrendered my spot in line. I got out while I still could.

This experience may be the most powerful coping mechanism yet.

How the Engaged Becomes Unengaged

"Miss Connor," he says, "When are we getting new name tags?"

There are 3 weeks left of school at this point. I shake my head. "We're not, it's so close to the end of the year, so we don't really need them."

"Oh okay." He keeps standing there, hesitating a little.

"Why?" I ask.

"Well I was just wondering, because I would maybe need a new one. Like with another last name on it."

I blink. His mom and dad separated last year, when he was in 1st grade. Not that it's unheard of to get remarried a year later, but I had just talked to his mom a few weeks ago, and I hadn't noticed a ring on her finger.

"Wait, why would you need a new one?" I ask, looking for some clarification.

"Because my mom is getting married to her boyfriend, and so my name tag would need to have his last name on it."

"What!" I am very excited. I really like his mom, and plus, I can tell this kid needs a solid father figure. I'd rather him have a step-dad than a slew of boyfriends.

"Yeah," he says, smiling.

"When did she get engaged?" I ask.

"May," he says.

I smile. "That's when I got engaged!"

"Yeah." He continues, "She's getting married in August."

"That's the same as me!" He nods. "Do you like her fiance?" He nods again. I'm very excited now.

My email says: "Hello Miss So-and-So, I tested C in reading today and he did a great job! Blablabla teacher stuff. Thanks, Miss Connor."

And then the PS at the end: "C  told me you got engaged in May and are getting married in August. That's so exciting, congratulations!!"

I got the following email back in reply:

"Hello.

wow... well first thank you for letting me know about reading, we love to read together. I'm glad it's paying off.

hahaha well I am not engaged? but Thank you, ha ha ha it must be wishful thinking on his end. He really likes my boyfriend.

I can't stop laughing!"


Well well. I guess this is what I get for telling my mom when I was in 1st grade that my music teacher had us play "Name that Tune" and I was the only one who guessed it when she played a primary song, and that she was in the Columbia 1st ward.

First World Problems

So I have a lot to blog about, but HERE'S THE THING. I haven't because right now, I am trying to:

1. move schools (we're moving tomorrow for the last 3 weeks so my school can get central air conditioning)

2. get engagement pictures taken (check!)

3. get a job for next year (which involves scheduling interviews, writing emails to principals, calling on other contacts for help in getting a job, finding substitutes so I can go to interviews during the school day, etc.)

4. unpack all my stuff at my summer apartment (not trying too hard to do that one, I'll be honest)

5. pack all my stuff at school

6. plan a wedding (oh, mine)

7. figure out where I'm living next year (actually this is Stephen's job but sometimes when I'm stressed about a few things then I start looking for other things to stress about too)

8. get a dress to get married in (finally done with that one)

9. plan my summer

10. plan my fall

11. save money (and the only way I can think of to do that is to just not eat....)

Blablabla boring. All I'm saying is, I'm excited for the day when I can do the following with some degree of consistency without it turning into a freaking panty-tangling process and event:

- sleep

- make and eat dinner (yesterday's dinner was a string cheese and today's was half an apple because it just takes SO MUCH EFFORT to make food and my milk just expired so cereal is no longer an option)

- brush my teeth

- go running (I know. Who am I?? I don’t even know, but I actually really like going running now and I think about it and want to do it and I try to plan it in, and then I get home and the sun sets and the world gets dark and I get scared of getting raped, so I end up just turning on the music video for “Good Feeling” by Flo Rida and running in place in my room while that plays, and friends, that is not even the same thing as running outside, let me tell ya.)

- lay out (if the sun could set at 9:30, I'd be happy. I mean, really happy. I could get home from school at 7 and lay out until the sun set. But no, it sets at 7:10.

- see my friends. I miss them really bad. And I'm turning into a bad friend, like, I know I am. It's depressing that the only time I can ever see them is Monday nights for the Bachelorette. Speaking of which...

- watch the Bachelorette. I usually am so painstakingly devoted to this show, and I take notes and I know the men by name, and I look forward to it every week. And I just can't invest in it this season. It's way too much effort. And it's such a dumb thing and such a first-world problem, but it's my blog and I'll first-world-problem it up if I want to.