At family home evening this week:
"We believe that the first principles and ordinances of the gospel are first the Lord Jesus, second repentance, third, baptism by emergency . . . "
(For the real articles of faith of Mormonism, click here).
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Keeping Up Appearances
Last night as I dashed into the "party store" just to use the ATM (I swear), I recalled the oft-used-in-mormondome phrase "Avoid the appearance of evil." The meaning is obvious--don't even look like you're doing something evil, but evil is relative. For Mormons, "evil" may include but is not limited to alcohol, tobacco, coffee, tea, tanktops, cursewords, pseudo-cursewords, democrats, left-leaning moderates and so forth.
Let me back up. (beep-beep-beep). Okay, in most places I've lived, the term "Party Store" typically refers to a place where you buy balloons, wrapping paper, coordinating paper plates and matching plasticwear and streamers. In Michigan, the term "Party Store" means "Liquor Store". Go figure.
So, as I left the Young Women's activity night at the Church yester-evening (you know, the place where I try and fail to be a positive influence and role model for conservative young mormon girls) I realized that I needed to get some cash on my way to a party (candles, not liquor) for which I was already very late. The only ATM on the way there was a short distance from the church inside the "party store". What's a girl to do? I ran in, hoping none of the young ladies or their mothers on their way home from the church would notice my mini-van double-parked in front of the "LIQOUR" sign. I guess we'll find out on Sunday. Though really, who doesn't need a good stiff drink after mutual night?
This reminds me of an earlier time in my life . . . . (beep, beep, beep). I was working for a theater in Seattle as the assistant stage manager. (This was one of the phases of my life where all the people I knew at work and in the theatre thought I was some sort of freaky ultra-conservative nut-job and all my LDS friends and family thought I was a great heathen liberal, when the truth was, and is, that I am really rather straight-down-the-middle conservative in my socio-political beliefs). I digress. One of my duties as the assistant stage manager was to manage props once the show was under way and the prop master was out of the picture. This show involved a lot of fake boozing and smoking (you know, the appearance of evil--what the actors did on stage prior to going out for the evening of real boozing and smoking), since actual boozing and smoking on stage is frowned upon--except by method actors. So, I had to create alcoholic looking non-alcoholic beverages and the like. I was laughed out of the light booth at one point when I asked "what color is MER-LOT?" (Like the time I helped host a fundraiser and had to ask if I should put the red wine in the fridge--silly Mormon!) So, every few days, on my way home from the show, I would stop in a local grocery store and pick up apple juice, tea, cigarettes and cigars. I was always afraid I'd run into my Bishop with an armful of tea and smokes. Tired, and unaccustomed to purchasing anything requiring identification, one evening I tried to dash in, grab the goods and go, when I was stopped by the 17-year-old checker who asked for my id. I stared at him blankly momentarily, then remembered the cigarettes. "Well, I'm not going to smoke them; they're a prop." I said. Apparently this is not a good enough excuse to get a by on the whole id thing. So, I had to leave my loot at the counter and go dig through my car for my drivers license.
S0, once again, I found myself, the role-model gone awry, in a potentially akward position. Though probably not as akward as this was. Nor my mother's stint as a paralegal-of-the-night (which is an entirely different post altogether, which I'll write if I get her permission).
So for all those of you out there who try and fail at being a role model, just remember, I probably failed before you did.
Let me back up. (beep-beep-beep). Okay, in most places I've lived, the term "Party Store" typically refers to a place where you buy balloons, wrapping paper, coordinating paper plates and matching plasticwear and streamers. In Michigan, the term "Party Store" means "Liquor Store". Go figure.
So, as I left the Young Women's activity night at the Church yester-evening (you know, the place where I try and fail to be a positive influence and role model for conservative young mormon girls) I realized that I needed to get some cash on my way to a party (candles, not liquor) for which I was already very late. The only ATM on the way there was a short distance from the church inside the "party store". What's a girl to do? I ran in, hoping none of the young ladies or their mothers on their way home from the church would notice my mini-van double-parked in front of the "LIQOUR" sign. I guess we'll find out on Sunday. Though really, who doesn't need a good stiff drink after mutual night?
This reminds me of an earlier time in my life . . . . (beep, beep, beep). I was working for a theater in Seattle as the assistant stage manager. (This was one of the phases of my life where all the people I knew at work and in the theatre thought I was some sort of freaky ultra-conservative nut-job and all my LDS friends and family thought I was a great heathen liberal, when the truth was, and is, that I am really rather straight-down-the-middle conservative in my socio-political beliefs). I digress. One of my duties as the assistant stage manager was to manage props once the show was under way and the prop master was out of the picture. This show involved a lot of fake boozing and smoking (you know, the appearance of evil--what the actors did on stage prior to going out for the evening of real boozing and smoking), since actual boozing and smoking on stage is frowned upon--except by method actors. So, I had to create alcoholic looking non-alcoholic beverages and the like. I was laughed out of the light booth at one point when I asked "what color is MER-LOT?" (Like the time I helped host a fundraiser and had to ask if I should put the red wine in the fridge--silly Mormon!) So, every few days, on my way home from the show, I would stop in a local grocery store and pick up apple juice, tea, cigarettes and cigars. I was always afraid I'd run into my Bishop with an armful of tea and smokes. Tired, and unaccustomed to purchasing anything requiring identification, one evening I tried to dash in, grab the goods and go, when I was stopped by the 17-year-old checker who asked for my id. I stared at him blankly momentarily, then remembered the cigarettes. "Well, I'm not going to smoke them; they're a prop." I said. Apparently this is not a good enough excuse to get a by on the whole id thing. So, I had to leave my loot at the counter and go dig through my car for my drivers license.
S0, once again, I found myself, the role-model gone awry, in a potentially akward position. Though probably not as akward as this was. Nor my mother's stint as a paralegal-of-the-night (which is an entirely different post altogether, which I'll write if I get her permission).
So for all those of you out there who try and fail at being a role model, just remember, I probably failed before you did.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Happy October
In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I shall regurgitate a post: Here it is. Lets be honest, the repeat performance is mostly because I have been a lazy blogger of late and somewhat because I stumbled into this hilarious post that reminded me not only of how much more entertaining I wish my blog was, but also of my unfortunate experience a few years ago. Seriously, airplanes and elementary schools? What has the world come to? You'd think that with a serious disease such as breast cancer, we could all refrain from degrading childish euphemisms and tasteless jokes whilst supporting the cause. Or at least we could even the playing field by making similar jokes about testicular cancer. Think of the web-address possibilities. I'm just sayin'.
It's all about me . . . again
Trying out a new title. Idunno. My old title had a long history with me that I was sort of sentimental about, but never really liked for a blog title. This came to me in the wee hours of the morning. I know, my inspiration meter is off the charts. I'm still not crazy about it, but it's probably better than Just Imajen, but what do you think?
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Boys Conference
This weekend was a lovely semi-annual experience we Mormons like to call General Conference. It is a fabulous two-day affair where we can stay at home if we like, and watch/listen to our church leaders give inspiring discourses on a variety of life-changing topics.
In my house, we cannot wait for conference!!!
I'm serious (and I'll tell you why momentarily). I know, as a kid, other than the staying home from church part, I thought conference was a huge burden. I grew up in Utah and they broadcast conference on the TV and the radio. My parents required us to sit nicely and listen to one session (there are four 2-hour sessions), and for like one or two others, we had to be listening, somewhere in the house. My brother and I usually locked ourselves in his bedroom, turned on the radio real low, and played legos.
Are you guys listening to conference!?!
Yeah mom!
For some hopeless reason, I have higher aspirations than that (my mother is smarter than I am). I lived abroad for a period of my life and we got a couple hours of conference translated into Italian via a snail-mailed video tape like two weeks later. It was a rare treat. I realized just what I'd missed out on and taken for granted all my childhood. Now with the internet, we can pop open the laptop and stream live video into our living room. We even got a cord to connect it to the TV!!
In hopes of helping my children come to the realization of what a blessing conference is earlier in their lives than I did, I've tried to make it a more exciting experience for them.
How? you ask.
Candy.
Yep, every conference, I buy a big bowl of candy and set it on the coffee table. We also set up an exciting thing we call "the conference tent" pointing toward the TV (like the people in the Book of Mormon did in the days of King Benjamin--sans TV of course). I print out bingo boards and every time they hear someone mention a word from their bingo board (like Jesus, or Love, or Heaven), they get to cover that square with a piece of candy. When they get a bingo, they get to eat the candy.
This keeps their interest for about, oh, ten minutes. Until they're just gorging themselves sick on candy and I'm saying whatever, just be quiet! And yelling things like STOP HITTING YOUR BROTHER! CAN'T YOU HEAR HIM TALKING ABOUT LOVING YOUR NEIGHBOR? YOUR BROTHER IS YOUR NEIGHBOR!!
I also sometimes print out what is known in the Mormon internet world as Conference Packets. I do this in a vain attempt to prove that my children are normal and well-behaved. Every time when I set out the packets and a box of crayons or markers, they look at me like I'm insane and ask for more candy. This year I flipped through the packet with Elliot. He did the hidden picture page in about 10 seconds flat and refused to look at the thing again.
Is it a boy thing? Or is it just my kids? I see kids in church sitting quietly coloring pictures of Jesus while I bodily separate my children, prying fingers off throats and bandaging up bloody wounds after physically dragging them from the chapel.
My nieces could sit and color for hours. I've seen a crayon in my child's hands fewer times than I can count on my fingers. Did I do something wrong?
As I sat and pondered this dilemma this weekend, I began considering a conference packet of ideas for boys. For day two, I scratched the packets and attempted to implement two activities which had come to mind. I'm pondering, searching, praying and soliciting ideas from anyone out there on activities to engage boys in conference. But here are the two I tried today with mixed results (nonetheless, still better than the coloring packets):
1) The Rameumptum: Get out a large (and I mean like 100) bag of plastic cups. Put them in a stack near the television. Instruct boys that they are not to touch the stack until I tell them they can. When they touch it anyway and it tips over, require that they pick them up, restack, don't hit your brother, and reiterate that we do not touch the cups until mom says to. And then, you can only touch one. No, you cannot touch your brother's, he can do his own. And stop hitting your brother. No one is allowed to touch anyone else, or the cups, until mom says. Then, make them sit in front of the television, eyeing the cups with their bingo boards on their laps. When they hear the speaker say a word from the board, they (with permission from mom as judge) can take a cup and place it on the floor or table. They repeat this, stacking them higher and higher into a tower of cups. When it falls, everyone cheers and we start over. If you run out of cups, the next person to get a word gets to knock the tower over. And don't knock it over until I say. And don't hit your brother for knocking it over--that's what spankings are for. And don't hit your brother for answering the question and getting to knock it over. You'll get a turn to knock it over too--if you pay attention.
2) Large in Stature: Mom holds the bingo boards. Every time the boys hear a word they think is on the bingo board, they ask mom, she checks and if found, says "Gimme 5 sit ups!" or jumping jacks, or push ups, or whatever. The boys comply and wait excitedly for the next word.
3) Candy Quiz: Candy is still an intregal part of conference, but doled out a little less liberally. The boy is required to answer a question about a preceding talk. If he can do it, he gets candy.
Another one we didn't try, but I'm thinking for next conference I should have my boffers made (they're these padded swords re-enacters use to play kings and knights and safely beat each other with) and it would be called:
4) Helaman's Army: If they answer a question correctly or something, they get to smack their brother with the boffer. Or something of the sort. I need to figure this one out, because it may lead to more chaos than it staunches.
The cups worked pretty well. After a while we gave up on the rules and they just quietly built the tower while answering my questions (for candy) about the speakers, then knocking the tower down (not so quietly) and starting over. Large in Stature was short-lived.
I've said it before and I've truly come to believe that Mormon included all the details of the wars and such primarily because it would get boys to read the book. Seriously, I know it's all supposed to remind us of our spiritual war, but women can grasp that with a little less graphic violence, thank you. But, like Mormon, I say use what you've got. And I have candy!
In my house, we cannot wait for conference!!!
I'm serious (and I'll tell you why momentarily). I know, as a kid, other than the staying home from church part, I thought conference was a huge burden. I grew up in Utah and they broadcast conference on the TV and the radio. My parents required us to sit nicely and listen to one session (there are four 2-hour sessions), and for like one or two others, we had to be listening, somewhere in the house. My brother and I usually locked ourselves in his bedroom, turned on the radio real low, and played legos.
Are you guys listening to conference!?!
Yeah mom!
For some hopeless reason, I have higher aspirations than that (my mother is smarter than I am). I lived abroad for a period of my life and we got a couple hours of conference translated into Italian via a snail-mailed video tape like two weeks later. It was a rare treat. I realized just what I'd missed out on and taken for granted all my childhood. Now with the internet, we can pop open the laptop and stream live video into our living room. We even got a cord to connect it to the TV!!
In hopes of helping my children come to the realization of what a blessing conference is earlier in their lives than I did, I've tried to make it a more exciting experience for them.
How? you ask.
Candy.
Yep, every conference, I buy a big bowl of candy and set it on the coffee table. We also set up an exciting thing we call "the conference tent" pointing toward the TV (like the people in the Book of Mormon did in the days of King Benjamin--sans TV of course). I print out bingo boards and every time they hear someone mention a word from their bingo board (like Jesus, or Love, or Heaven), they get to cover that square with a piece of candy. When they get a bingo, they get to eat the candy.
This keeps their interest for about, oh, ten minutes. Until they're just gorging themselves sick on candy and I'm saying whatever, just be quiet! And yelling things like STOP HITTING YOUR BROTHER! CAN'T YOU HEAR HIM TALKING ABOUT LOVING YOUR NEIGHBOR? YOUR BROTHER IS YOUR NEIGHBOR!!
I also sometimes print out what is known in the Mormon internet world as Conference Packets. I do this in a vain attempt to prove that my children are normal and well-behaved. Every time when I set out the packets and a box of crayons or markers, they look at me like I'm insane and ask for more candy. This year I flipped through the packet with Elliot. He did the hidden picture page in about 10 seconds flat and refused to look at the thing again.
Is it a boy thing? Or is it just my kids? I see kids in church sitting quietly coloring pictures of Jesus while I bodily separate my children, prying fingers off throats and bandaging up bloody wounds after physically dragging them from the chapel.
My nieces could sit and color for hours. I've seen a crayon in my child's hands fewer times than I can count on my fingers. Did I do something wrong?
As I sat and pondered this dilemma this weekend, I began considering a conference packet of ideas for boys. For day two, I scratched the packets and attempted to implement two activities which had come to mind. I'm pondering, searching, praying and soliciting ideas from anyone out there on activities to engage boys in conference. But here are the two I tried today with mixed results (nonetheless, still better than the coloring packets):
1) The Rameumptum: Get out a large (and I mean like 100) bag of plastic cups. Put them in a stack near the television. Instruct boys that they are not to touch the stack until I tell them they can. When they touch it anyway and it tips over, require that they pick them up, restack, don't hit your brother, and reiterate that we do not touch the cups until mom says to. And then, you can only touch one. No, you cannot touch your brother's, he can do his own. And stop hitting your brother. No one is allowed to touch anyone else, or the cups, until mom says. Then, make them sit in front of the television, eyeing the cups with their bingo boards on their laps. When they hear the speaker say a word from the board, they (with permission from mom as judge) can take a cup and place it on the floor or table. They repeat this, stacking them higher and higher into a tower of cups. When it falls, everyone cheers and we start over. If you run out of cups, the next person to get a word gets to knock the tower over. And don't knock it over until I say. And don't hit your brother for knocking it over--that's what spankings are for. And don't hit your brother for answering the question and getting to knock it over. You'll get a turn to knock it over too--if you pay attention.
2) Large in Stature: Mom holds the bingo boards. Every time the boys hear a word they think is on the bingo board, they ask mom, she checks and if found, says "Gimme 5 sit ups!" or jumping jacks, or push ups, or whatever. The boys comply and wait excitedly for the next word.
3) Candy Quiz: Candy is still an intregal part of conference, but doled out a little less liberally. The boy is required to answer a question about a preceding talk. If he can do it, he gets candy.
Another one we didn't try, but I'm thinking for next conference I should have my boffers made (they're these padded swords re-enacters use to play kings and knights and safely beat each other with) and it would be called:
4) Helaman's Army: If they answer a question correctly or something, they get to smack their brother with the boffer. Or something of the sort. I need to figure this one out, because it may lead to more chaos than it staunches.
The cups worked pretty well. After a while we gave up on the rules and they just quietly built the tower while answering my questions (for candy) about the speakers, then knocking the tower down (not so quietly) and starting over. Large in Stature was short-lived.
I've said it before and I've truly come to believe that Mormon included all the details of the wars and such primarily because it would get boys to read the book. Seriously, I know it's all supposed to remind us of our spiritual war, but women can grasp that with a little less graphic violence, thank you. But, like Mormon, I say use what you've got. And I have candy!
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Bloggity Blog
Bad Blogger! Bad! (I have a dear friend who used to keep me on my toes, and whenever my behavior would start to push the edge of perfect mormonism, he'd scold me: "Bad Mormon!', so I'm scolding my blogger self and thinking of him. GRAZIE PRINCIPE! AHHHHH!! . . . but enough of the shout outs.)
Forgive me Blogger, I have sinned. It has been nearly two weeks since my last half-hearted blog entry and a good month or two before that. My sin? Oh yes, I am a big fat liar. I said I was allergic to lake-water, and I no longer believe that to be true. I think I'm allergic to some sort of airborne something or other and, yes, it was probably in the lakewater I inhaled, so there may be some truth to the preceding post, but nonetheless, please, please, please somebody make me stop sneezing!!!
Last night's conversation:
Ethan: Mom, why do you have kleenex stuffed up your nose?
Me: Because I've been attempting to do the dishes for the past three hours and can't make any progress because I either start sneezing uncontrollably, or snot runs down my face every 10 seconds to the point that I must stop the dishes and blow my nose, or go insane.
Ethan: Oh, that's weird.
Forgive me Blogger, I have sinned. It has been nearly two weeks since my last half-hearted blog entry and a good month or two before that. My sin? Oh yes, I am a big fat liar. I said I was allergic to lake-water, and I no longer believe that to be true. I think I'm allergic to some sort of airborne something or other and, yes, it was probably in the lakewater I inhaled, so there may be some truth to the preceding post, but nonetheless, please, please, please somebody make me stop sneezing!!!
Last night's conversation:
Ethan: Mom, why do you have kleenex stuffed up your nose?
Me: Because I've been attempting to do the dishes for the past three hours and can't make any progress because I either start sneezing uncontrollably, or snot runs down my face every 10 seconds to the point that I must stop the dishes and blow my nose, or go insane.
Ethan: Oh, that's weird.
I get allergies like every 7 years for some odd reason. So it's always unexpected when it happens. In an ironic twist of fate, the last time I thought I had allergies, I didn't. But I did spend a small fortune on every allergy medicine known to man in the process of determining I didn't have allergies. And fortunately, I saved them all. So today I'm doing much better thanks. It's either due to the heat that caused me to close my windows and turn on the AC, or the pricey nasal spray or one of the several fancy allergy medicines I've ingested recently. Regardless, I think I'll keep it up. Except I'm sort of out of energy and depressed, which could be because of the medicines, or just PMS. Hard to tell.
So back to the random blog post.
I signed Elliot up for preschool. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet. Ask me in a couple of weeks. He's excited. Tonight I started filling out a questionnaire for it. It instructed me to ask Elliot the questions and write down his answers. Well, they asked for it. My favorite one?
Who do you live with?
Dad, Jen, Jesus, Heavenly Father, Ethan, Daisy.
I wrote it down because I thought the response was cute. Then went back and thought it might just make the teacher think we're some sort of religious nut-case of a family. But then again, maybe we are.
They also asked for picture of Elliot. So we got out the camera and started taking some shots. People tell me Elliot looks like me. I'm not always convinced. But when I pulled up these pictures that to me, don't really look a lot like him, they reminded me of a serious of pictures I took last year of me that didn't really look too much like me, or so I thought. So, maybe in those moments that we don't look like I think we look, we look alike. Did that make sense? See for yourselves:
And yes, I suck at picture placement, but I have other, more interesting skills.
So back to the random blog post.
I signed Elliot up for preschool. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet. Ask me in a couple of weeks. He's excited. Tonight I started filling out a questionnaire for it. It instructed me to ask Elliot the questions and write down his answers. Well, they asked for it. My favorite one?
Who do you live with?
Dad, Jen, Jesus, Heavenly Father, Ethan, Daisy.
I wrote it down because I thought the response was cute. Then went back and thought it might just make the teacher think we're some sort of religious nut-case of a family. But then again, maybe we are.
They also asked for picture of Elliot. So we got out the camera and started taking some shots. People tell me Elliot looks like me. I'm not always convinced. But when I pulled up these pictures that to me, don't really look a lot like him, they reminded me of a serious of pictures I took last year of me that didn't really look too much like me, or so I thought. So, maybe in those moments that we don't look like I think we look, we look alike. Did that make sense? See for yourselves:
And yes, I suck at picture placement, but I have other, more interesting skills.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Sneezy and Sleepy (and Dopey too)
I think my head is in the process of exploding. I mean, literally exploding. This morning I started sneezing and haven't stopped yet. It's the middle of august, there's nothing to be allergic to except humidity. And that would suck. It's bad enough suffering through it without an allergy.
So the radio said the ozone was bad (whatever that means) and to not breathe when you're outside or something. So I figured I must be allergic to ozone. Or at least that my sneezing is somehow related to ozone.
Then I started thinking that the last time I was sneezing in a somewhat similar fashion was a little over a week ago. I began to wonder if I was getting sick, or allergies, or what. But then it stopped. Until today.
sssssnnnnnnnnnnnn . . . . .
oh, sorry. Benadryl kicking in. Where was I?
Yes, today, and the week before last. hmmmm. The week before last, the boys and I swam in the lake nearly every day. But not last week. Just last evening, I ran down to the lake to do a few laps. I was momentarily distracted at the moment I jumped in and forgot to plug my nose and received a sinus-full of lakewater in return. Yum.
A plus B equals I think I'm allergic to lakewater. At least if it is in my sinuses. The sneezing the week before last wasn't quite as bad, but I don't recall a full on lakewater sinus wash. Just some serious splashing of mom by my children. Which likely put some lakewater into the nasal cavity at one point or another.
There was a girl at church the other week, face swollen up, sniffing, can't-hardly-breathing for the stuffiness. We all backed away from the sneeze-zone. But she swore up and down it was because she swam in the lake the day before. That she's allergice to lakewater. Um, sure, whatever.
But now I'm not so sure she's a big fat liar anymore. And I've watched people all day back away from my sneeze zone.
Allergies suck. Karma sucks too.
Ah-ah-ah-CHOOO!!!
snnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn . . . . . .
So the radio said the ozone was bad (whatever that means) and to not breathe when you're outside or something. So I figured I must be allergic to ozone. Or at least that my sneezing is somehow related to ozone.
Then I started thinking that the last time I was sneezing in a somewhat similar fashion was a little over a week ago. I began to wonder if I was getting sick, or allergies, or what. But then it stopped. Until today.
sssssnnnnnnnnnnnn . . . . .
oh, sorry. Benadryl kicking in. Where was I?
Yes, today, and the week before last. hmmmm. The week before last, the boys and I swam in the lake nearly every day. But not last week. Just last evening, I ran down to the lake to do a few laps. I was momentarily distracted at the moment I jumped in and forgot to plug my nose and received a sinus-full of lakewater in return. Yum.
A plus B equals I think I'm allergic to lakewater. At least if it is in my sinuses. The sneezing the week before last wasn't quite as bad, but I don't recall a full on lakewater sinus wash. Just some serious splashing of mom by my children. Which likely put some lakewater into the nasal cavity at one point or another.
There was a girl at church the other week, face swollen up, sniffing, can't-hardly-breathing for the stuffiness. We all backed away from the sneeze-zone. But she swore up and down it was because she swam in the lake the day before. That she's allergice to lakewater. Um, sure, whatever.
But now I'm not so sure she's a big fat liar anymore. And I've watched people all day back away from my sneeze zone.
Allergies suck. Karma sucks too.
Ah-ah-ah-CHOOO!!!
snnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn . . . . . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)