I had another perfect Sunday to add to my list of Sunday fails. Of course it started out like any other Sunday (couldn’t find Big Girl’s shoes, Boy #2 didn’t have time to brush his teeth, and Hubby was mad about the aforementioned unpreparedness). Also, I was not looking forward to teaching my Primary class. Blasphemous, I know, but it’s hard when you’ve got a student who completely refuses to cooperate in any way, shape or form, and this time was no exception.
Most of the kids were pretty good and I didn’t have a particularly large class that day. It was even kind of rewarding to be teaching a lesson on the Easter story, even if it was Christmastime (how was I supposed to know the second to last lesson in the book was to be given on Easter rather than at the end of the year?). It was even cute when I asked the kids what resurrection was and one kid said, “I’m drawing a blank.” When I explained what resurrection was and that Jesus was resurrected, he asked, “Will WE come back alive?” When I said yes, he gasped and said, “No way. You’ve got to be KIDDING me!” To which another child responded “No, I know someone who died and they’re dead. ” I explained that we won’t be resurrected until a long time later. “Like 100 days?” “Like 100 years,” I said. They were even more shocked when I told them that everyone was going to be resurrected, even the bad guys. It was kind of a fun lesson to give. They were actually engaged (mostly) and although they were a little squirrelly, the lesson went on without much incident (except for the frequently recurring need to remind one kid not to lean on the girl next to him).
Then we went to the part of Primary where all the different ages of kids are together. Things started fine (they always do) until my youngest daughter, Little Girl, tried sitting on my lap. I told her to sit quietly in her seat, but she would have none of it. In her defense it was the third hour that we had been expecting her to sit still in church. She probably would have been OK with it if I hadn’t been there, but I was, and wouldn’t let her on my lap, so she lay on the floor in front of me while the other teacher was trying to teach her lesson. I tried to ignore her (Little Girl, not the teacher) so instead of engaging her I took off my shoe to adjust my little no-show sock that I was wearing with my flats. I wear them to keep my feet from getting sweaty and stinky, but in reality they slip down until they are hanging by one toe and doing little good. Attempting to adjust said sock, I took it off and stretched it out to put it back on. Just then my daughter tried again to get into my lap, causing me to let go of the sock, which flung through the air. All the while the teacher is teaching, oblivious (thank goodness) to the chaos in front of her. Being a little helper, one of my primary kids got up to hand me my crumpled and sweaty (yes, it was actually a little damp) sock. Little girl was still trying to get onto my lap. I took the sock back as quickly as I could, hoping that the boy wouldn’t mention how gross it was. Luckily he didn’t. I put on my sock in the most angry way one can, and sent Little Girl out in to the hallway to sit until she was willing to sit in her chair. Then we went on as if nothing had happened.
The moral of this story is: “Don’t teach primary if you have kids young enough to want to sit on your lap.” That, or “Don’t take your socks off in public.” Yeah, that one’s probably more doable, not to mention courteous.
Warning: This post contains descriptions and/or images that may be disturbing to some readers, i.e., some of it’s gross.
Also, it’s very very long. I have included headings so you can skip to the parts you are interested in. And like my friend said in HIS marathon blog post, it’s a long post because it’s a long race!
Why Run a Marathon?
I never ever wanted to run a marathon. 26.2 miles? Never. Ever. It wasn’t even on my bucket list. I’ve wanted to learn Spanish, go on a Prager Listener Cruise, visit the Mayan (Incan? Olmec?) Ruins, publish a book, and and do all sorts of other things. But running a marathon was NOT one of them. I have always enjoyed running. I ran the 1/2-mile, the mile and the 2-mile in track in high school. I wanted to join Cross Country, but I honestly did not think I would be able to run a full 3 miles. And I always thought that running a marathon was not humanly possible and that people who did it were superhuman.
I started running longer distances (like 4-5 miles) after I had kids and was trying to lose the weight. I tried to run as far as I could in one hour and began running farther and farther, finally running six miles at a time (not within the intended hour). Then one day my friend asked me to run the Fontana Days Half Marathon with her. My first reaction was, “What?! HECK no!” But the more I thought about it, the more it sounded like fun. I thought that if I could jump into a training schedule, and run the number of miles that were required of me at that point out from the race, then I’d do it. I ran 8 miles that Saturday and was fine, so I signed up. I ran that half marathon and two others and was hooked. I thought, if I can run this far, I’m halfway from a marathon! Lots of people say that humans aren’t meant to do this, reminding me that the first person to run a marathon, Pheidippides, died at his destination (roughly 25 miles from the battle of Marathon to Athens). But I say, he didn’t have a water belt, Gu, and Power Bars, but I do! If other people can do it, then so can I! So I started training.
The marathon is all I’ve thought about for the past few months. It especially consumed me during the 3 weeks leading up to the race. I have Plantar Fasciitis which causes my heel to hurt. I’ve been seeing a chiropractor who is a family friend, and he helped keep it at bay while I did the training. I followed the training plan (Hal Higdon’s Novice Supreme with a few tweaks of my own) and did my 16-mile run and even my 18-mile run without much pain in my heel. But after my last long run, the 20 -miler, my heel was killing me. So much so that I stopped running altogether. The good news was that I was in the tapering phase of my training, which means that I was supposed to be cutting back on my mileage and running less and less in the weeks leading up to the marathon. But I was supposed to be running 12, 8, and 6 mile runs; not no runs at all. I tried running 2 miles here and 1 mile there, but it just kept hurting so I stopped again. The looming marathon had me worried out of my mind. They say to trust your training. If you can do the training, then you can do the race. And I HAD run 20 miles. But I was afraid that my heel hurting and my not running for 3 weeks would undo all that I had worked so hard for. I was slow enough as it was, running my 20-miler at a 15-something minute/mile pace. A lot longer than the 13.75 minute/mile pace I had to do to finish within the 6 hour time limit of the racei wanted to do: the Santa Barbara International Marathon. I was also worried that I had failed to lose the amount of weight I wanted to. Actually, I failed to lose any. OK, OK, I GAINED weight during my training. Not good for someone 70 pounds overweight, with heel pain wanting to run a marathon. It was a gamble, but I decided to do what most runners do: ignore the injury and run anyway. And hey, worst case scenario: my heel starts hurting and I drop out. At least I tried. As a friend once said, “‘Did Not Finish’ is better than ‘Did Not Start’”. But that result would still leave me devastated and crying my eyes out. I really hoped that a “DNF” was not in my future.
The Morning of the Race
My same friend who ran the Fontana half with me was running the Santa Barbara Half Marathon with her sister so we all went up to Santa Barbara together to stay in a hotel. We had a blast. It was the kind of fun that can only end in a noise complaint from the neighbors (yeah, it was that bad). But that was mostly the two sister’s fault. I was the good one. As is common on race eve, we went to bed late and woke up early. I could barely eat, not from nerves, but from eating so much the night before (I really shouldn’t have had that extra piece of pizza. OR that second doughnut). But I forced down some carbs, protein, and a whole Gatorade and we left for the race. We waited in line together for the shuttle buses for a while, but when we separated I felt so alone. I was really doing this. On my own. I got the proverbial butterflies in my tummy, and there were a lot of them. While waiting for the marathon bus I met a guy doing his 80-something-eth marathon. He told me that he had run one last week, was running the one that day, another the next day (back-to-back marathons? who DOES that?!) and then had another planned for the next week. I was like, ” Wow! Yeah, this is my first…so…yeah.” But he was really nice and wished me luck.
The bus dropped us off and we had to walk (!) to the starting line. I was so mad. I wanted to conserve my energy and did not want to travel a single centimeter on foot farther than 26.2 miles that day. But alas, I followed the crowd up a semi-steep hill to a high school parking lot. Everyone was passing me on that hill and I just remember thinking, I’m conserving energy, so it’s OK that I’m the slowest one here. Things will be different in the race. It was a foreshadow of things to come.
In the parking lot by the starting line I ate some more, drank another Gatorade (gotta hydrate!), took some Ibuprofen (I know, I know, I could die of a heart attack. But seriously, I think I was more likely to be in intense pain due to my heel than to keel over from heart failure), peed, stretched, pood (don’t want to have to go during the race), stretched some more, and found my way to the back of the pack behind the starting line. I saw a friend there and we chatted for a minute. We were both running the full marathon, but since he was hoping to stick with the 4:30 pace group (that’s the group that wants to finish in 4 hrs. and 30 min.) and I wanted to finish close to the time limit (6 hrs.) we separated and got ready for the horn/gun/bell. I can’t really remember what they did to start the race. For all I know someone might have yelled, “On your mark, get set, go!” I just followed the crowd as it surged over the starting line and I high-fived the announcer on my way. The butterflies in my tummy had been coming and going and now they were coming again. I was so nervous and so excited!
Those butterflies continued to come and go as I ran the first mile or so. I was looking for the mile 1 marker when I was pleasantly surprised to see the 2-mile marker. I hoped the rest of the race would go that fast and tried not to think about the mile 3 marker. After what was surely 2 miles I started looking for the mile 4 marker. That’s when I saw the mile 3 marker. The same thing happened at mile 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, you get the idea. Whenever I thought it had definitely been 2 miles, I discovered that it had only been one. At about mile 6 (? 9? I’m really not sure) things started to look familiar and I realized that we were back at the high school. We passed near the starting line AGAIN and I commented to a person next to me that I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Were we ever going to get anywhere?!
Most of the race is a blur, and I can’t remember what happened at what mile but here are some of the things that I do remember:
-People were passing my like I was standing still. And I had been at the back. Maybe they were late to the race. I was quickly getting farther and farther behind the pack.
-A little toddler girl with a lion hoodie on tried running with us and I said, “Go, go go!” She was adorable.
-THE best was when a group of high school kids who were handing out water started shouting, “Go Crystal, go Crystal, go Crystal, go Crystal!” It was a much-needed boost! By the way, they knew my name because your name is printed on the front of your race bib.
-I was trying to keep up with another overweight girl running with a more fit girl who I assumed was her trainer. The more fit girl was talking to her the whole time and stuck with her The. Whole. Time. They were getting farther and farther ahead. When she stopped to pee I finally got my chance to pass her up, but afterward she quickly passed me by. But I tried my darndest to keep that girl in my sights. It was a great motivator. I ended up doing the first 6 or so miles at about a 12-something minute/mile pace, way better than the 15-something pace I did when I did my 20 mile training run. That 15-something pace included bathroom breaks and I had gone JUST before the race, so I hoped I wouldn’t have to go the whole time (wishful thinking).
-I saw a few people turn around and walk back. I felt so bad for them. I’m sure they trained just as long and just as hard as I did, paid just as much for the race entry, showed up eager and excited and even ran a good 9 miles or so. But something happened and they ended up walking back. I really felt sad for them.
- A few weeks ago I asked everyone I could think of; the race organizers, People on a Runner’s World forum, friends on Facebook; what happens if you don’t meet the 6 hour time limit of the Marathon? Well I was about to find out because at about mile 10 (???) I looked behind me and saw a school bus, a motorcycle cop, and a couple of ”Budget” rental moving trucks behind them. I thought, so THIS is what happens when you don’t meet the time limit. They were following behind me very slowly and I realized that I was dead last. I started cracking up. Then a photographer took my picture, just as I was telling the people on the side of the road, “I’m last! Ha ha ha!”
-Here are some pictures of me at the race. http://www2.brightroom.com/email/105434/621/152773687 They are SOOOOO not flattering, and when I saw them I was thinking, that’s how fat I am? And more importantly, that’s how I run??? Embarrassing. Notice the Budget trucks in the background? FYI, the pictures in which I am laughing are the pictures of me realizing that I was last in a race of 1,300+ people.
-I was in a race against the bus for what seemed like several miles when a cyclist told me that they were going to start opening up the streets to traffic, so unless I could stay ahead of the bus, I should move onto the sidewalk. Confident that I could keep racing the bus to the finish line, I nodded and kept on running. Not long afterward, the motorcycle cop came up to me and told me the same thing. But I wasn’t phased, I was still technically ahead of the bus! So I kept going. After awhile the bus passed me, I moved to the sidewalk and tried to catch up with it. When I did, the bus driver stopped ME (I was furious! Didn’t he know that this was a RACE?!) And told me that I could either get on the bus now and be driven to the finish line festivities, or else I was on my own with no one stopping traffic for me. I was offended that he would suggest that I wasn’t going to finish, and I assured him that I WAS finishing this race, so I left him in a hurry and hoped I could stay ahead of him. But instead of following slowly behind like he had been doing, he just took off up the road to pick up weary stragglers.
-I had finally passed the lady and her trainer as they started walking. But when the bus passed me I didn’t see anyone on it, so I assumed they were still back there and I was no longer last. I was slowing down, too. I had run too fast (for me) for the first several miles and now I was going so slow that the 12-something minute/mile average had turned into a 15-something minute/mile AVERAGE. Meaning that at this point I was going way slower than a 15 minute/mile. I don’t know how slow I was going at this point because the number of miles to divide into however many minutes I had gone altogether was getting too large for my little non-math-oriented brain.
-This is where the race got really hard. I caught up to a girl, and we started chatting. It was nice having someone with me who was equally slow as me and equally determined to finish this race, no matter how long it took. Unfortunately at this point we were “on our own” and had to stop at stop lights and didn’t have signs showing us which way to turn on which streets. There were still a few cones set up so we followed those, and when we weren’t sure where we were going, there were people taking down water tables and they were able to give us directions. I understood only part of them, but we kept running. I use the term “running” loosely. It was more like a jog or even a shuffle. But it was propelling us forward, and that’s all that mattered.
-At one point a little more than halfway through the race I ran out of water on my water belt and didn’t see any more operating water stations. I was terrified that I wouldn’t get through the marathon due to lack of water, so I prayed and prayed that there would be a water station soon: I was getting really thirsty. Amazingly, around the corner there was a fully operational water station and they filled up all of my bottles. They even sent me with an extra bottle of water to take with me. Hallelujah! Along the way there were a few more water stations. Some were packing up and gave us water bottles, some were unmanned but had cups of water set out for us stragglers. Either way, we stayed hydrated, thank goodness!
-About mile 14 I started to feel like, We’re only halfway? How am I ever going to get through the rest of this race? My buddy and I were running through neighborhoods, through a bike trail with lots of forks in the road, and through more neighborhoods. I wasn’t sure which way to go, but I started to notice these spray painted arrows on the ground that seemed to point the direction that looked like the correct way to me, so I started following those and miraculously they led me in the right direction. Especially miraculous because, as I found out later, those arrows weren’t for us.
-At around mile 15 I had to stop and poo again. My tummy had been hurting for awhile and I was glad of some relief, just not glad of the pee that was all over the seat and the lack of toilet paper in the stall. I resorted to using seat protectors to wipe down the seat and wipe…whatever else. Thank goodness they had those, at least.
-About a week before the marathon, our branch president (that’s the guy in charge of our congregation at church, kind of like a pastor) Told Hubby and I that Hubby should come to the race and run the last 6-8 miles with me. I wasn’t so sure that was a great idea. Who would watch our kids? Oh yeah, and Hubby hates to run! But the Branch President and his wife offered to watch the kids, and Hubby agreed to run with me. We found a bus route that would take him from the finish line to the 20 mile marker and I would meet him there.
-At about mile 15/16/17/18/19 we kept telling each other how far we had to go to meet Hubby and she said, I can’t WAIT to meet your husband!!! I couldn’t either. Only 5 more miles/4 more/3/2/1!
How My Hubby Saved Me
We finally got there and I was overwhelmed with relief! I saw him walking toward us and I just knew everything would be OK. He was supposed to have taken the bus to the 20 mile marker but found out that the bus stop was 4 miles away from the finish line, where he was parked. So he walked 6.2 miles along the race route from the finish line to the 20 mile marker and waited for me for 2 1/2 hours (thankfully he brought a book) before I showed up. Lucky for my husband I was “running” so slow that Hubby was able to just walk beside me which was really good for him because he hates hates hates to run. Whenever I stopped to walk he’d pull me by the hand and make me run.
This is when I started to get weird. I was on the verge of tears and was saying over and over again how glad I was that he was there. I looked at my skin and it was a blotchy pink and white. Also, I felt kind of week and…lightheaded isn’t the word…light bodied. So I ate some Gu (WITH caffeine) and I was OK.
Up to this point those arrows had been leading me in the right direction, so when I saw those arrows point to the right I started to turn right down a street. Hubby stopped me and said, “No, we go straight.” I was positive that we were supposed to turn because that’s what the ever-present arrows were telling us to do, but Hubby insisted that he had come from this direction earlier and he knew we were supposed to go straight. It hit me that if he hadn’t been there I would have followed those arrows off the course to who knows where and ended up lost and alone. I don’t know how long it would have taken me to realize I was lost, or what I would have done at that point. I can only assume that I would have sat down on the ground and started sobbing until I was able to flag down a car driving by and ask them to drive me to the 20 mile marker where I was supposed to meet Hubby.
This is where the mile markers disappeared and I found myself arguing with Hubby over how far we had gone. I was always convinced that we had gone farther than we actually had when we would see the occasional mileage painted on the ground.
When we finally made it to the last mile (Hubby remembered them shouting to the runners at this point that they only had one mile to go) I was barely moving forward. I kept stopping to walk, but would walk so slow I didn’t think I would ever get there, so I’d start running again. I kept praying that I would get my medal even though I was so far behind. We could see the stadium where the finish line was and it looked so far away, but soon we entered the stadium parking lot and I saw a family getting into an SUV. There was a girl who looked about my age, who said to me, “Are you JUST finishing???” ” said, “Yeah.” And she went on and on as I was running past about how I was an inspiration. As I passed I heard from behind me that whole family yell, “Go Crystal!!!!” I started crying.
I entered the stadium and saw the finish line. I started booking it. The timer was no longer up and working, but the mats were down and I pounded over those mats 7 hours and 5 minutes after I started, 1 hour and 5 minutes after the time limit, and well after they had packed up all the vendors and took down the finish line festivities. I was greeted by a sweet woman with a medal and some snacks for me. The time limit was an hour before so they did NOT have to do that. But they did and I was soooooooo grateful. I had finished! ME! I FINISHED A MARATHON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was euphoric. My buddy and the girl with her trainer were a little ways behind me. From what I can tell I was 4th from last. Not last!
I was so sore for the next week that I was limping. Luckily my heel stopped hurting during the race and didn’t hurt after, but my foot and ankle swelled up so much that I went to the Dr. and they checked me for blood clots. There were no blood clots, just tissue damage, apparently. Don’t worry, the swelling went down. But NOW my heel hurts. So 3 weeks after the marathon I’m still limping. Check out my cool blisters:
During the last couple miles of the race I felt my toenail moving around and I thought it had fallen off. When I looked at it, it was still there, but I could tell it was only connected to the edges by the skin. I put a Band-aid on it because it was oozing clear liquid. I think it was a popped blister under the toenail. I was tired of not being able to wear shoes because of the sensitivity of the nail, so I tried ripping it off. First I pulled it off with the skin still attached to the bottom. Then it was just flapping there and I couldn’t have that, so I held onto the top skin so it wouldn’t rip too much and I ripped off the rest of the nail. Luckily it didn’t hurt, it was just creepy.
It was a rough race, but as a friend said to me, “remember that the first guy who ran a marathon died when it was finished. I guess anything less than death is a good thing.” Tru dat, sista! I’m just glad I’m alive!
I just watched “Mormon in America” on YouTube last week and started to write some quick thoughts about it (because I developed more than a few very strong opinions about it) in a Facebook post, but it became ridiculously long. So, lucky you: it’s now a blog post! If you haven’t seen it and want to know what I’m talking about, you can watch it HERE.
First off, my problems with this video:
1) That one girl with the big lips (who even IS that?) says we’re secretive. Huh? We literally knock on doors begging you to listen to what we’re about! The reasons so few people know what we actually believe are that they a) don’t really care to know or b) hear misrepresentations/lies/half-truths about us.
2) Their telling of the Joseph Smith Story was so incomplete. They didn’t even MENTION that Joseph Smith saw God the Father and Jesus Christ in the grove of trees. Nor did they mention that he got an answer from God telling him that he shouldn’t join any of the churches at the time, which was really what he prayed about, and is the whole point of the story. If you want to read the actual story in Joseph Smith’s own words, you can read about it HERE.
3) The idea that we can’t drink caffeine is a common misconception. It’s actually no coffee, tea, drugs, tobacco or alcohol. The lady that said she’s only had one coke, once in her life, is not representative of everyone. I live off diet Dr. Pepper (for better or worse) and I’m worthy to go to the temple.
4) Why interview Abby Huntsman (I just realized who the big-lipped lady was) of all people? Why do they always seem to interview more people who’ve left the church than people who are still in it. Which is a better way to get know what being a Mormon is really like? I think it’s good to interview both. But it seemed like the bulk of the interviews were from her.
5) Despite what Abby says, not everything about the church is black and white. You aren’t either all in or all out. We welcome all people to our Sunday meetings, whether or not they live our gospel. How did Abby grow up in The Church and not know that? We’re always being told to bring people into the fold and invite people to come to activities. And not on the condition that you aren’t a smoker or a swearer. If you want to come to church with me, please do. We’d love to have you.
6) This woman’s an idiot! She hopes people can one day go into the temple?! Every new temple has an open house, available to anyone and everyone so that they can go inside, look around and learn what they are all about. And the reason that anyone and everyone can’t go to the temple once it has been dedicated is that it’s a place where we can be safe from outside influences, pray, worship, and perform sacred ordinances. We don’t want any curious bystander or angry anti-Mormon walking in and heckling people. And in reality, anyone CAN go, they just have to live by certain standards. Any establishment has rules. You need to pay money and get a photo ID/membership card just to get into Costco, for goodness sake. Is THAT a “secret” place?
7) Geez, does anyone actually know anything about the temple garment?? Despite what they said, or what some people might do, I, personally don’t wear them when I exercise. At Brigham Young University, which is the church-run university, you aren’t even allowed to wear garments with your BYU issue gym clothes, the shorts are too short for that. We are supposed to wear them as often as possible, and how often that is, is a matter of individual discretion. On another note:we do not believe that temple garments have magical powers. Their purpose is to remind you of your covenants and help protect you against temptation. And *gasp* HOLY CRAP! OF COURSE no one’s going to show you their garments, Brian Williams! How DARE you have the audacity to ask people to show you their underwear! Would you ask that of anyone else? Oh, you wear a man-thong, that’s different than what I wear, so can I see it? That is just shameful. And then they show people wearing the temple garment anyway. How inappropriate. That was highly offensive.
8) And women aren’t equal to men?! I can’t believe I’m hearing such nonsense. Different roles doesn’t mean not equal. Men do priesthood stuff that women don’t do. So what? Women can give birth and men can’t. It’s not better or worse, it’s just different.
9) The “feminist” lady in the church has a problem with decision-making authority in the church. That has nothing to do with being a feminist. You either believe the prophet is called of God or you don’t. If he is, then what he gets from God is the word of God. If he’s not, leave The Church because he must be a whack-job. Why stay in a religion and fight against the way it is? If you don’t agree with it, either you are wrong and you decide to accept it the way it is, or the religion is wrong and you leave it.
10) The ladies they refer to as being excommunicated in 1993 were excommunicated because they wrote bullsh** lies about the church, were given a chance to repent of their wrongs, but refused. Not because they were feminists, like the blonde interviewer lady (can’t remember her name) was saying.
11) The guy from the musical, “The Book of Mormon” is described as a Mormon when he’s actually a self-proclaimed Ex-Mormon. There’s a difference in perspective between someone living the faith, and someone who no longer is. And speaking of that musical, if I were to produce a musical about a group of people, let’s say homosexuals, and make fun of them and spoute half-truths and lies about that group, it would be an outrage. But with “The Book of Mormon” we’re all just supposed to sit back and what? Laugh at ourselves? I can laugh at myself and Mormon culture, but that musical (I’m thinking of the song, “I Believe”) does not describe me or any other Mormon that I know and certainly not the doctrine of The CHurch of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
What I DID like about the video:
1) They point out that EVERY religion has stories and beliefs that seem outlandish to outsiders, that doesn’t make it a “cult”.
2) The black guy (can’t remember his name either) mentioned that he’s never faced discrimination. And their family is so cute! I love that they show them teaching the gospel in their home., and the kids are so insightful and positive about the gospel. That’s what it’s all about.
3) I love that that guy’s wife brought up the fact that WE BELIEVE IN THE ATONEMENT OF JESUS CHRIST! AKA: GRACE! Why is it that people think we don’t???
4) The stuff about the Welfare Program was phenomenal. It reminded me about how poor my family was growing up. I remember my dad working in the Bishop’s Storehouse to help “work for” the free food we got every month. It’s an amazing program and I think they really captured the essence of that.
10) I like that they explained that we have an unpaid clergy.
For me, the bottom line is that I don’t really care if you believe in the church or don’t believe in the church. But I DO want you to know the truth about what is Church doctrine, what is Mormon lore/culture/tradition, and what is just plain NOT TRUE.
If you want to get the actual facts about what we, as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints believe, go to Mormon.org/faq where you can find simple, concise, official answers to frequently asked questions about the church. There are also thoughts from members about those same questions. You can even visit my Mormon.org profile where I talk about my experience with the church HERE.
If you have any questions or comments or want to agree or disagree, feel free to leave a comment. I’d love to hear from you!
Some people have absolutely no thought for others around them. For example:
People who drive slower than the flow of traffic in the left lane on the freeway. PULL OVER!
People who don’t pull forward at a red light when the traffic is backed up, to make room for more cars to fit behind them without blocking cross traffic. PULL FORWARD!
People who drive dangerously slow, even in the right lane. HURRY UP!
People who drive 30 miles an hour on a two-lane highway where the speed limit is 55. Until you get to a passing lane. Then they speed up to 70 so that you can’t get around them. And THEN when it goes back to two lanes, they go back to 30. INFURIATING! And yes, I do encounter this often. Every time I go to Target/Costco/the Dr./the dentist/Barnes & Noble/etc.
People who don’t pull over into a turn-out on a two-lane Highway when there are 15 cars behind them….wait a minute, this rant is starting to sound familiar. Oh yeah, I posted about this awhile ago in, “Is it Asians, Women, Old People or Cell Phones?” Yeah, I guess slow drivers are my (OK, one of my many) pet peeve(s).
And these same Rude People are everywhere, not just the highway. Sometimes they even go to the grocery store to stock up on provisions. When they do they:
Stand in the middle of the grocery store aisle, when they KNOW someone is bound to come through, and act surprised when you are standing behind them waiting for them to move. Trust me, it happens more than it should.
I even encountered one lady who stood in the middle of the aisle staring me down as I tried to squeeze past her, as if she was daring me to go down HER aisle. I thought Oh yeah. Blog entry! I should have snapped a picture of her with my phone and added it for proof.
The aforementioned Rude People use public bathrooms as well:
You can tell they are the same people who drive rudely and grocery shop rudely because they disobey all laws of public restroom etiquette. Public bathrooms are gross enough as it is without people:
Failing to flush their pee (or worse) down the toilet. If it doesn’t go down automatically, PUSH THE BUTTON!
Peeing on the seat without wiping it up.
Or leaving their nasty seat covers still on the seat so that you have to try to shove it in with your foot, which is impossible if they’re half wet with urine and stuck to the seat, as they usually are.
What is WITH some people?! Why would they DO that? Have they no decency? Don’t they care about the other people around them? As the eloquent orator Stephanie Tanner would verbalize it: “How Rude!”
So tell me, what are YOUR Rude People complaints?
10. I CAN skip a rock!
9. A seven-year-old can beat me to the top of a mountain (way to go!).
8. Dehydrated Pad Thai doesn’t taste as good as it sounds. Dehydrated Fettuccine Alfredo on the other hand…
7. If a little girl gets a stick stuck four inches into her leg, you will wish you had brought rubbing alcohol. Don’t worry, they eventually found someone who had some and she’s fine.
6. Water filter pumps really work! I drank a TON of lake water and didn’t even get Giardia!
5. Apparently 30 mosquito bites is mild for five days in the wilderness.
4. People will get mad at you for not answering your phone even though you were on vacation for five days and hours away from getting any cell reception.
3. I’m too fat. Backpacking would be a lot more fun if I wasn’t hauling an extra 80 pounds of fat in addition to the 47 pound pack I was carrying. Then again, I feel like a total rock star: I was carrying more than anyone and I still made it to the top (last, but I still made it)!
2. TMI alert: Nothing feels better than taking a dump in a dirty gas station bathroom after you’ve had to squat, in the open, over a hole you dug yourself in the dirt/pine needles and go #2. Actually, #3. 4 times.
1. Hiking 12 hours in 5 days (and possibly, even pooping outside) is totally worth it when you experience the beauty of a clear, sparkling, blue-green lake that you have almost completely to yourselves and spending the afternoon swimming to rock islands, diving off rock cliffs, floating, sunbathing, and just enjoying the mountain scenery.
A lot of toys from my childhood are still around like Rubix Cubes, Cabbage Patch Kids, Etch a Sketches, Strawberry Shortcake and My Little Ponies. But some things I haven’t seen since I was a kid, but totally remember. Thank goodness for the ability to look them up on the internet or I would think I was crazy!
Sit ‘N Spin Maybe this is still around, but I haven’t seen them. My next door neighbor had one of these and I wanted one sooooo bad! Actually, I just wanted to be able to use it. I tried, but I never had the upper body strength to get going fast enough for it to be worth the effort.
Garbage Pail Kid cards *Shudder* I hated those things. I was scared of them. I could never understand what boys liked about them.
I don’t know which one is grosser/scarier. The nauseating “Barfin’ Barbara”,
the phobia-inducing “Clogged Duane”,
or “Overflow Joe”,
OR the horrifyingly graphic and age-inappropriate “Hole in Juan”,
or “Ned Head”?
*Shudder again* I could include more but I’m starting to feel sick to my stomach.
Castle Grayskull When I was four I walked right into my neighbors’ empty apartment and was discovered soon after by my mom playing with this. I suppose the lure of He-man and Skeletor were too much for a four-year-old girl to resist, even if I was reduced to breaking and entering. Or at least entering.
Rainbow Bright and specifically the little white Sprite doll I had. SO cute! And I loved Rainbow Bright, hideous bangs and all.
Charmkins I don’t ever remember playing with these, but I know I had them because I do remember bringing them for “sharing time” in Kindergarten. I wish I had them now, I would totally collect these!
Popples I had a “pillow fight” with these at a friend’s sleepover when I was seven. Good times.
Cricket I saved up my money for a year to buy one of these, just in time for them to go out of style. But I loved her moving eyes and mouth. I listened to her sing “She’ll be Comin’ ‘Round the Mountain” over and over and over again.
Teddy Ruxpin Never had one, always wanted one. But it’s OK, I got a Cricket doll.
My Pet Monster I got a My Pet Monster valentine card from a boy in kindergarten. Yuck!
Kid Sister/My Buddy I still remember the jingle (totally singing it in my head), “Kid Sister and ME!”
I wonder what things my kids will look back on. I don’t think that the Disney Princesses or Star Wars paraphernalia will ever go away. But Dora the Explorer and Bakugans just might.
Ahhh, Summer Break. That time in which you try to cram in all the stuff you didn’t have time for during the school year. I know WE have a busy, exciting, action-packed, fun-filled summer planned. At the beginning of July we’ll be gone for 9 days straight camping in El Capitan and then Big Bear, but boy #2 has Junior Christian camp during the BIg Bear trip. In the middle of July my sister is coming to visit, which will probably include trips to the beach and an amusement park. Then at the end of July we’re going on a 5-day backpacking trip. In August Hubby goes back to work, Boy #1 has Scout Camp and school starts for the kids on the 20th, so that month will involve a lot of last-minute preparations for the upcoming school year. Including, but not limited to: clothes shopping (if we can afford it), working with Big Girl on her letters, and numbers and writing her name (yeah, we’re a little behind on that), and practicing multiplication tables with Boy #2. That just leaves a week and a half in June in which to have swimming lessons, a beach trip, the library, and possible sleepovers, playdates, and lake trips.
The kids haven’t even been out of school for one week and already things are getting hectic. Even more than during the school year. Almost every morning I get up at 5:20 (OK, let’s be honest, it’s more like 5:55) to run with a friend. Let’s keep in mind, by the way, that this is the woman who struggles to get up by 7:20 during the school year. Yes, marathon training is that important to her. This run is then followed by showering, eating, and rushing the kids to swimming lessons. After that we have lunch, nap and preschool worksheets for the girls. Then dinner, and then there’s something going on pretty much every night. So much for Summer “Vacation” or “Break”. It’s definitely a misnomer. Kind of like “Stay-at-home Mom”. Very few Homemakers stay home much. And even my friend who has no drivers license and who stays at home all day every day is going insane with busy-ness. She homeschools her 3 kids and cooks and bakes and organizes and disinfects until she’s blue in the face. ”Stay-at-home” just doesn’t seem to cover it. But I digress.
My “Summer Break” is fast becoming a “Summer Breakdown”. All of the fun and excitement is being punctuated with increasing amounts of screaming, fighting, whining, complaining, teasing and crying. If it continues, I’m going to do some yelling. Or more accurately: do some MORE yelling. I usually try not to yell at my kids. But today alone I’ve already yelled about the aforementioned screaming, fighting, whining and teasing; in addition to
gently reminding scolding raising my voice yelling at Boy #1 for telling me NOW that he’s been holding onto a library book for the past YEAR! I calmly rationally heatedly furiously told him that he will pay for it himself. I have enough of my own late fees as it is.
Apparently my kids and I can’t handle a few fun activities without completely losing it. Maybe we’re tired. Maybe we’re stressed. But I guess we’re just going to have to suck it up and keep going because we’ve still got 8 1/2 weeks left.
But who’s counting?