Sometimes, Maybe, Yes

In case you haven't noticed, my husband looks a bit like Edward Norton. Since this is the case, we couldn't resist dressing up as Marla Singer and The Narrator from Fight Club for Halloween last year:





"I am Jack's complete lack of surprise."



But this similarity has caused some hilarity at church.

It started one Sunday after Chris and I had given talks in Sacrament Meeting. Chris had rambled a bit during his talk and somehow ended up talking about how he has a bit of a temper in the car and gets frustrated the with drivers around him.

Well, one of our Bishop's sons (aged 7) came up to Chris and asked him in a semi-amazed voice, "You get angry?"

"Sometimes," my husband replied.

We thought it was cute, but dismissed it from our minds....until Halloween.

On Halloween, we were helping with the Ward party, and the kids were running around costumed and candied up. The same boy stopped near my husband, turned to him and asked, "Are you the Incredible Hulk?"

Chris, being the kind of guy he is, looked at the boy and said, "Maybe."

He ran off, presumably to tell his brothers, and Chris found me to tell me what he'd said. We had a good laugh, and then I went back to painting faces.

Later that night, the boy's older (and more skeptical) brother, came up to him again to ask, "Did you play the Hulk?"

To which Chris promptly replied, "Yes."

It was only after, on the way home, that we made the connection to his question a few weeks before, no wonder he was worried about Chris getting angry!

Finally, last night, we went to drop off some Christmas cookies to their family and, while I took care of the "Merry Christmas," "How are you," and other pleasantries, Chris was getting an esteem boost.

Upon seeing Chris, the seven year old ran to the TV and came back with The Hulk. Peering out from behind his parents, he waved the movie at my husband (I missed this). Next he grabbed his Hulk toy to show Chris (I had no clue). Finally, clutching both, he ran out of sight, squealing to his brothers, "The Incredible Hulk is here!" (Still, I was oblivious).

As we walked to the car, Chris filled me in on the hilarity, and I barely managed to contain myself.

I love kids! I don't know how I feel about my husband lying to them, but seriously....in this case....wouldn't you?

Maybe we should make dressing up like characters from Ed Norton movies a Halloween tradition?




....Nah!....

Wordle

I've been wanting to make one of these for a while....

Silly Things I do for no Good Reason

Okay, I am weird (ask anyone), but there is often method to my madness, so I've decided to share a few, heck if I think of more, this could be a regular occurrence on ye olde blog.


Silly Things I do for no Good Reason (other than that I am a dork).

1) You may have noticed (see previous post) that I generally put one too many periods in my ellipses.
.... instead of ...

I started doing that in COLLEGE.

Why?
Make a guess, and then click. (You can catch it there twice....)


2) You may have noticed the way I eat (this is two-fold)
a. I eat with my fork in the left hand, tines down
Why?
Because my mom said it was the British way (Yay, my celebrated half-of-me!). (Later, I discovered it is considered Continental. That's good enough for me!)

b. I eat my salad first, and then put a little bit of everything else on my fork and chew it together.
Why? Good question.
I'm not sure why or when I started doing this (I had one friend who thought is was so gross, she was of the anti food-groups-touching-each-other camp). I think it must have stemmed from a dislike of the taste of vegetables. I began using favorite foods to flavor less desirable ones. Now, it's the only way I eat. I'd be sacrilege in France (le sigh).
My Aunt likes it, because she says it reminds her of an *Emma Thompson character who was always creating "the perfect bite." That's what I do! What a perfect way to put it. That's why my plate always ends up looking like a post-hurricane wreckage, because all the leftover pieces don't have corresponding flavors!

Okay, so I'm weird. We all knew this but now?

We have proof.



*Let me know if you know the title of that movie....

Is it the Spirit....or is it just gas?

Inspired by the ever faithful Liz and Nicole, my hilarious/intelligent cousin, and my new Token Asian Friend, I have decided to be a more faithful blogger (we'll see what happens).

So here it is:

Attention: This is a slightly LDS-centric post because, well, I'm LDS. If you are confused by anything you read here, check out mormon.org, or wikipedia

Is it the Spirit....or is it Just Gas?

It was only a mild surprise on Sunday, to see the bishop of our ward beckoning to me during Sunday School. Hadn't I joked with Chiemi two days before about replacing her as Primary 1st councilor (we decided that I was needed as chorister too much)? So I followed him to his office, sat down, and exchanged the usual pleasantries. "Sister Puppé," the bishop asked, "did your husband tell you I called him to be the ward mission leader today?" What? Not only was I getting Chiemi's calling, Chris was getting her husband's!

Hilarious, right?

He then continued, "And I'd like to call you to be the ward Primary President."

....

....um

....Of course I accepted. I know the call was from the Lord. But there was still that little....wait, you mean me? feeling.

Funnily enough, the thought had crossed my mind that morning. My mind's response? "Yeah right, that'll never happen *mind-snort."

Everyone struggles with every calling, no matter how involved it is, I know I have, and everyone has different fears when it comes to each one.

Mine??

Teach under-twelve-year-olds the gospel?--No Problem
Come up with ideas to acheive this?--Piece of Cake
Learn an entire program backwards and forwards?--Bring it on

(Wait, did I just steal all of those lines from Cuzco? So much for creativity.)

But there are Three things that scare me about this calling. I'm talking literally PETRIFY.

1) I have to be Organized (okay, I can do this when it really matters, it's just so darn hard!)
2) I have to be in charge of the Money (right, I can also do this, it just doesn't come naturally)
3) I have to make Decisions (here's where the petrification part comes in)

Okay, now let me explain. I am a pretty self-assured, intelligent person. I admire and respect myself, and my abilities. But when it comes to big decisions, or receiving Revelation I get pretty intimidated.

I mean, it took me a year and a half to decide to marry my husband!

Still, I knew I'd be okay once I chose my councilors (and replaced myself as chorister), but I had to hurry. You see, I was called and set apart the same day so that the new Stake Directories would be up to date.

Chiemi is still doing sharing time, thank goodness, but the rest of the former presidency will be out of town!


Okay, on to the dilemma of my post!

How do you know if what you're feeling is the spirit or something else? (emotion, wishful thinking, gas....) Here I am agonizing over names, wishing for a voice or that over-powering, perfectly right feeling , or something. Okay, I didn't really expect a voice, but the feeling? Where's the impression, the thought, the peace?

I don't mean to complain, but I've been so frustrated. So of course, instead of having faith/hope/patience or any of those other necessary qualities, I start hammering on myself. (What's wrong with me? Why does this scare me so much? Where's the Spirit?) and all those other stupid things we say to ourselves instead of doing the faith/hope/patience thing.

So by last night, I'd worked myself into a frenzy. Earlier in the afternoon, I'd pretty much decided on my councilors, but then I began to doubt. It was so subtle, what if I misunderstood? Surely I'd feel more strong, more sure. Round and round, and over and over, spinning, searching, praying, crying, self-rebuking, and still feeling lost. Upon reaching the heaving, sobbing-into-husband's-chest stage, the logical portion of my brain broke free and said, "Wait! This isn't normal! This feels like crazy hormones." Ah, yes, my old enemies. They ignore me throughout my teen years and then pounce unexpectedly at 22. Good old hormones.

(Now you're probably thinking maybe I'm just imbalanced, imature, or some other im....but if I notice a pattern to these crazy times, who are you to tell me otherwise.)

At this point, I realized further thought/worry on the subject would be the opposite of productive, so I put it aside, requested a blessing from my husband, and went to sleep. (Consequentally, I have a renewed appreciation for the power of the priesthood, and the incredible strength and worthiness of priesthood holders)

So today, determined to do things right, I start from scratch, feeling almost nothing, but in general a few little hints.

Guess what? Same two names.
Guess what else? I'm starting to have some doubts....

The Ultimate Color Test (not really)

Sorry it's been forever! And sorry this is such a lame post, but I liked this. Of course, it's almost so vague it could be about a lot of people...hmm....I still like it. Oh well :)

The Ultimate Color Test

When you are at peace, you are: Giving and unselfish When you are moved to act, you are: Giving and warm When you are inspired, you are: Flexible and experimental When your life is perfectly balanced, you are: Philosophical and expressive Your life's purpose is: To change the world

The Ultimate Color Test

Confessions of a Bruised Mind

I slept in today.

What is it about a bed that makes one feel safe?

Sleep is safe, but

Closed eyes? Alone in a bed?

What's so safe about that?


And yet

I prolong it.


The alarm keeps going

And I

Keep hitting snooze.


Finally, a different phone sound

Curiosity, my saving virtue

Who has texted me?


So I am distracted and, before I know it

Officially awake.

Check something off my list.


Pills, fiber, those are easy,

No thought required.


And then I head back to bed.


Because there is another thing that happens near that location

But I'm trying not to think about it.


See, the thing is,

It's really hard to pretend when you pray.

And

If I let my guard down

I'll start crying.


I'd probably feel better

But I'd also be caught

Once again

In the never-ending cycle


It's easier to get distracted

To get caught up in the magic of words

And turn fear into poetry

Cause a poem can't hurt


Except

My eyes are full

Keepers of the Children

Look for the Logo!

Every time I pass a group of tough looking bikers, I look for the BACA patch. BACA, Bikers Against Child Abuse, was started by John Paul "Chief" Lilly (who happens to be a friend of a friend), a child therapist. Working with families, social workers, therapists and the police department, BACA provides four levels of intervention for abused children. During a first visit, the whole chapter (20-80 bikers!) meets up with the child, gives them a BACA vest, some stickers and toys, and the contact information for the two closest members. They are sending a message to the child that they are now part of the BACA family, a big, loud, tough family. And nobody better mess with their family.

BACA does not condone violence, they perform ridebys and show up for court dates, just to be there for the child. They want the child to be empowered, but they are also sending a message to the abusers.

Listen to their creed:

I am a member of Bikers Against Child Abuse. The die has been cast. The decision has been made. I have stepped over the line. I wont look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still.

My past has prepared me, my present makes sense, and my future is secure. I'm finished and done with low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, mundane talking, cheap giving, and dwarfed goals.

I no longer need pre-eminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don't have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by the faith in my works, and lean on the strength of my brothers and sisters. I love with patience, live by prayer, and labor with power.

My fate is set, my gait is fast, my goal is the ultimate safety of children. My road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions are tried and true, my Guide is reliable, my mission is clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of adversity, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity. I wont give up, shut up, let up, until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, and showed up for all wounded children. I must go until I drop, ride until I give out, and work till He stops me. And when He comes for His own, He will have no problem recognizing me, for He will see my BACA backpatch and know that I am one of His. I am a member of Bikers Against Child Abuse, and this is my creed.

Chief
Founder, Bikers Against Child Abuse, Inc.

These couragous men and women have found a need and are filling it. They are my heroes!
This video is about ten minutes, but it's totally worth watching: