Overheard

Another snow day today. Same old whine.
Here are some astute things heard around our home of late:

Mika had a friend sleep over the other day. I was in the room reminding them it was time for bed. This is their conversation, had as if I wasn't even standing there:
Dillon: Hey Mika. Remeber last time, when me and Josh both slept over?
Mika: Yeah.
Dillon: Remember how we stayed up all night farting and telling yo'mama jokes?
Mika: Yeaaaahhhh...
Dillon: That was so awesome. Can we do it again tonight?
Mika: Yeah. Definitely.
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Keola was standing in front of the dishwasher during the dry cycle the other day, staring into the little air vent:
Keola: Hey mom! This hot steam coming out really burns your eyeball!
Mom: Have you considered moving your eyeball out of the way?
Keola: Total silence. Moves slowly away from hot steam. Oh. I didn't think of that.

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Coming home from church on Superbowl Sunday:
Mika: Hey guys! My teacher doesn't watch football!
Us guys: Well, some people try not to do that on Sunday sweetie.
Mika: No, Mom. I mean she doesn't watch football EVER. I've never met someone like that before. Weird, huh?

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With so many snow days, my VS Pink loungewear has been getting a lot of wear. The other day I felt a little finger poking my rearend. I turned around to find Keola staring at my hiney.
Me: What are you doing, son?
Keola: Your butt isn't like jello. When I poked it, it didn't shake.
Me: Is it supposed to?
Keola: I think if you're a mom, it's supposed to.
I shudder to think of the testing grounds for his theory.

_______________________________________

The missionaries were having supper at the house the other night. Politics came up.
Elder V: This could be the year for the first mormon president, the first woman president, or the first black president. We should just elect Gladys Knight and get it all over with.

Life Goes On

I realized I could not live in mourning forever. There are children and a husband to consider. I had to shake the funk. I had to accept the painful defeat and move on. What better way to accomplish that than with food?
Rynell, who by all means appears to be a master chef, assured me that some Cafe Rio knock-offs would be out of this world. I have been to Utah a couple of times in the past year or so, and everyone was raving about this restaurant. We tried it and loved it. So much so that it was Samantha's restaurant of choice for her post-baptism meal.

Basically, you take this:

some chicken and rice, and you whip it all together to make this incredible meal. I believe it's some kind of burrito. But the end result looked like this:

There was an incredibly moist and flavorful chicken, lime rice, "doctored" beans, pico de gallo, tomatillo dressing, rich, creamy guacamole, and some shredded lettuce all wrapped up in a fresh warm tortilla. It was so delicious, my mouth began to smile again. And in order to prevent ruining the food with saline, I quit crying while I ate. Skip's favorite food is Mexican, so I felt even better seeing him enjoy his meal. I think a tiny ray of sunshine beamed down from above on our table.

Anyway. I hope Giselle Bundchen was as good to Tom Brady. He needed cheering up, and after all, I fully believe Giselle is the new Jessica.

Oh, and as for my tombstone, Lisa's epitaph was definitely creative but I refuse to put it on my headstone. It's Paige by a mile. And no Katie, you didn't win.

It's All Because I Forgot to Wear My Pats Hat!

You tell me how I should have it engraved. And no, I don't want to talk about it. I'll pay a therapist good money for that.

*post amendment: if you can come up with an engraving for my tombstone that will make me smile once again, i'll send you a prize.

Pathetic

I can't remember the last time I was this bored. Honestly. Skip is gone for the weekend sleeping in snow caves and practicing knot-tying with cadets. Oddly, even that sounds fun to me at this point.
My kids have been in bed for 2 hours. I have read every blog I am familiar with, checked my email, looked at the dishes, and glanced at the washing machine. I can't sleep when he's gone, and it's only 9:pm.

WHAT AM I GONNA DO FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT???

Truth be told, one thing I am looking forward to is the fact that I get to sleep with my rabbit. I've had him for a really long time. You're probably thinking, "Wow. Since childhood, I bet." Yeah, not so much since childhood. I got him when I was 15. I named him Sam, after the Green Eggs and Ham guy. I realize that 15 is a bit old to start an attachment to a stuffed animal, but whatever. This post is about pathetic.
He has been everywhere with me. Mission to 3rd world country, many college dorms, family vacations... you name it. ALAS... my husband finds it offensive and repulsive. He is not at all enthused about my sleeping with Sam. So I don’t.
The pathetic statement about my life is that not only can I find nothing productive to do this evening, but the highlight will be sleeping with a stuffed rabbit wearing no pants and a yellow sweater.
Another reason my night is pathetic? We’ve been watching the show LOST on dvd. I am eerily hooked on it. Obsessed, actually. We just started season 2 the other day, and I feel literal physical withdrawals when I have to turn it off. Skip asked me to wait until he got home so we could watch them together. And I keep walking over to the TV to just go ahead and watch it. I refrain, but feel like a traitor in my heart.
And lastly, my night is pathetic because when Skip is away, I like to send him zesty little pictures of his wife. It reminds him why he should hurry home. Exhibit A: I can’t really send him tonight’s non-zesty picture, because I’m afraid he will never come home. Exhibit B:
p.s. I finished this entry in about 15 minutes. I went to post, and my internet had gone down. I spent the next hour and 40 minutes on the phone with a tech, who eventually said there’s an outage in my area. So I had to save the post to a Word document. I couldn’t even post a blog tonight. Pathetic.

banana-fana-fo-foey

last night skip and i were laying in bed. (the above picture is clearly not us laying in bed. but photos are fun, and this one will have to do. i may joke about the satin sheets, but that's as close as anyone gets inside our bedroom. you're welcome.) somehow, we ended up playing the "name a song" game. one person throws out a word, and the other has to come up with a song that has that word in it. he said "banana" and the best i could come up with was joey-joey-bo-boey, banana-fana-fo-foey. i thought it was a stretch, but technically, it's a song and it counts.

anyway. i think i won, but i can't say what word i won with. it's not BAD... it just might seem weird. and heaven forbid i should allow that to happen.

it's funny the songs that come to your mind with just a single word trigger. and it's amazing how OLD you can feel when you think about certain songs. yesterday's "mystery oldie" on the radio station was INXS... need you tonight. THAT is an oldie? i remember brooke and i tore up the church dance floor with our choreographed moves to that song. i swear it was like last week sometime.

anyway. my husband is a formidable opponent. he was running on 4 hours sleep, he had had the kids all night while i was at a coffee, and it was now 10:30 pm. i'm impressed that he went as many rounds as he did. he is one in a million. (yes, i'm still talking about the song game, here.)

SO... do you think you could hang with our mad bedroom singing skills? you get 1 point for the song, a 2nd point if you can name the artist. i'll make it easy on you... the word is ARMS.

i can't even muster a fake compliment

so i was reading about shally's situation with the not-so-friendly side of motherhood. and then noe brought home THIS from preschool:

now. honestly. maybe it was because shally's story was fresh on my mind, but i cannot look at this thing without feeling a little queasy. how hard would it have been for the teacher to throw a little food coloring into the playdoh? or give the kids some paint when they were done? did she use whole wheat flour or what? frankly, this looks like something that is the RESULT of too much whole wheat flour.

i love my daughter dearly. but i am thoroughly repulsed by her creation. come on! not even a little glitter or something? i feel like my daughter is spending her days at preschool molding poo in order to solidify early reading skills. i can't decide whether or not i should say something to the teacher. she's young, first year teaching... but i'm fairly certain they taught her SOMEWHERE along the way not to let the kids play with poop. or anything that resembles it.

i think i'm growing up!

so i came clean with my husband about blogapalooza. i had only mentioned wanting to go to womens conference with my very best girlfriend ever, but i thought he would find me weird or ridiculous for wanting to meet fellow bloggers in real life. so i avoided mentioning that part. last night i was regaling him with stories of my sordid teenage years, when lying and sneaking were a way of life. this morning, it hit me... i'm still a teenager.
i couldn't bear the shame of it, so i emailed him and told him all about my desire to meet these interesting women i've encountered in blogland. he was, of course, fabulously supportive. i threw in the part about one of them being a speaker at womens conference, so she obviously isn't a 54 year old male pervert. it went well.

so. now i can officially get excited. i'm going to travel. i get to fly kid-free. favorite part of that? the little moment when you step into the dark airplane bathroom , close the door, and slide the "occupied" latch. what happens? the lights come on, as if someone is throwing you a surprise party! sometimes i even yell "surprise!" to enhance the experience. maybe this time i'll throw myself some confetti. after all, i have a lot to celebrate- a few days without kids, time with my best girlfriend, spiritual enlightenment, and meeting a bunch of great cyber friends and turning them into real friends. i think there will also probably be good food involved. best part- a really great husband who backs me and wants me to do things that will make me a better person... even if sometimes that doesn't include him. thanks for understanding baby... i love you!
i should bring him back a good souvenir from provo, utah. any suggestions?

why ovenmitt romney will win the election

good morning world! it's a REALLY GREAT YEAR for boston sports fans... which includes me. if you are from boston, you are a winner. it's all things soxceltspats. if you're not a betting man (or woman), you should be one just this year, because you CAN'T GO WRONG!!

in case you live in a bubble, or are just one of those people who aren't into sports (which could lessen the amount of love i have for you) here's the skinny:

world series champs. killer line-up like josh beckett, david ortiz, manny ramirez, jonathan papelbon. they even have a guy named coco crisp. how can you not love a man named after a breakfast cereal? that just screams family fun. they played solid baseball, with a few nailbiters followed by a series sweep. that is awesome.

oh baby. they won every game in the regular season. 16-0. nice. they are division champs, likely to beat the san diego chargers to become the AFC champs... and then it's on to the superbowl. i'm fairly certain there will be a perfect season all around. belichick was overly-villified, thus spawning what has been called his "middle finger tour through america." he turned his whipping boy status into continual victory. and tom brady is so hot.

i cannot even begin to tell you what this means to me. i have been a celtics fan since my mother weaned me off the little green bottle. my life's regret is that i can only watch bob cousy or johnny havlicek in black and white ESPN classics. imagine going to a game back when basketball was more than glorified street ball? i caught the tail end of real basketball... just say "bird, mchale, ainge, parrish, dj" and the heavens open up into chorus sublime. that's what i grew up on. anyway. this season, they are #1 in the NBA. no one is even close to their record so far. odds of them winning the NBA championship? all my $.

so. ovenmitt. what does this have to do with him? first of all, i really want to know what's up with his name. mitt? baseball mitt? ovenmitt? that's all i ever think of. but i digress. we all know he's stepping into the running from what golden city? boston. check out these pictures:

while the last one doesn't show him in celtics apparel, he is standing in the garden, home of the celtics. (i hate corporate sponsorship. it will always be THE GARDEN to me. not the fleetcenter, or the banknorth garden...) anyway. ovenmitt is coming from boston. he has kissed the blarney stone of boston sports teams. i haven't decided who to vote for yet this year, but it doesn't really matter. ovenmitt is from boston, so he will probaly win.

squeaky confessions

i read today about martha corinna's dance with the devil. i loved every second of it. most of you know that i never drink soda, and i try to avoid fast food as much as possible. i'll spare you the condescending lectures, although if you read MC's passage, you'll know exactly how i feel.

yesterday, my kids were home because of a snow day. they drove me absolutely crazy. they had only been back to school on monday after 2 weeks of vacation, they were nowhere near ready to spend another day at home. skip had a late night at work, so i just didn't feel like cooking. i let mika choose the restaurant, and he picked A&W.

there's a new billboard up in town advertising the "curiously delicious fried cheese curds" at A&W. everytime i see it, i gag. all i can imagine is greasy cottage cheese. well, of course mika ordered these cheese curds. i was indeed, very curious. i didn't plan on blogging about them, so i have no picture. and sadly, the best that google images could provide me was this:

i call him louie. and the caption read, "you lookin' at my cheese curds?" not really prime advertising. but whatever. so i was curious. i lived in logan, utah for awhile. they have a cheese factory there, and the locals were always talking about "squeaky cheese." i like cheese, so i tried out this "squeaky cheese" once. they were cheese curds. they were fairly tasty. i tried to explain them to skip last night, but i had no idea what they actually were. enter wikipedia. the long and short of the definition is that higher levels of acid cause the milk proteins to tangle and form lumpy masses. and you have to eat them within 12 hours, because they don't keep. doesn't that sound yummy?

no, it does not. (just in case you were thinking otherwise). and when i think of A&W, i certainly don't imagine freshness encompassed by a 12 hour expiration date. oh, and it gets better... apparently, a song was written years ago. a celtic tune. and it goes a little somethin' like this-

"Visions of MacGonlannee"
Stately and pleasantly it sat
A compact house and strong
Then I went in
The door of it was hung beef
The threshold was dry bread
And cheese curds were the walls

guess who i'm never going to visit? yeah, old man MacGonlannee. everything about cheese curds seems wrong. and more disgusting still when you dip them in batter and deep fry them in hot peanut oil.
and yet...
i tried one. and sweet mother of abraham lincoln, they were fantastic! curiously delicious, even! there may be times in the future when i cruise through the drive-thru just for a box. heck, if it came right down to it, i'd wrestle big louie for the last one.
so. that's my confession for the day. but unlike martha corinna, i'm not pregnant. so i have no viable excuse for my behavior. can you still love me?

god grant me patience... NOW!

sorry this will be an entry with no pictures. it's one of those "reflective" entries... probably inspired by the new year and all the people around me making resolutions.

i'm not a new-year's-resolutions girl myself. too much pressure. yet i recognize the need for change. not drastic overhauls, but subtle changes. i am very hard on myself. i think a lot of women are. this is a hard-learned lesson, however.

several years ago, i was good at everything. at least i thought i was. it was important to me to be good at everything. i was in charge of a lot of things in different organizations both within my church and community. i was managing the unusual health problems of one child and the extreme behavior issues of another. i was on the ball. i had lists which were regularly checked and completed. i was a go-to gal. problem was, i wasn't really going to anywhere. in spite of all my organization and success, i was failing in so many areas. (but that's a whole other therapy session...) eventually it all caught up with me and things got ugly fast. i was driving my train at full speed, and it crashed.

so now what? here i am, with essentially a second chance. i have to remind myself each day that i know how to fail. and i don't mean that in a disparaging way. what i mean is i have to take that failure and apply what i learned from it. it has to be part of my progress now, part of my attempts to succeed.

the list of things i want to do better is endless... be more patient with my kids, keep the house cleaner, read my scriptures more, dislike certain people less... you know the drill. but the way i see it now, the best i can do is focus on the big picture on a daily basis. i want to be calm and rational when child A throws the gamecube controller at child B's head. but some days, i may scream out "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THOSE THINGS COST? YOU COULD'VE BROKEN IT! PLUS, YOU MIGHT HAVE HURT YOUR BROTHER!" that is usually followed by a spanking, an unrational punishment, and a ruined night. then i feel guilty, and hope their father isn't waiting in the wings with a lawyer to swoop in and deem me an unfit mother. this is reality. sometimes it happens that way. but sometimes it doesn't.

some days, i may say, "i'm sorry you chose to do that, here is the natural consequence." and child A understands it, grudgingly accepts it, and within a reasonable amount of time, there are apologies and reformed behavior. sound idyllic? yes. but it is also reality. and sometimes it happens this way too.

so day to day, i resolve to do what i can. on the good days, i give myself some credit and say "i succeeded at some things today." i value that progress. on the bad days, i can try to pinpoint what went wrong and why... and then be aware of those triggers the next time around.

i want perfection as much as the next guy does. and believe me, i'd love to have it now. but the point of it all is continual refinement. i figure if i approach it from that angle, it's going to be a little easier to succeed. and as i do that, i'd like to think i gain a little more patience, a little more wisdom, a little more understanding in how to keep it all going in the right direction.

a poor idiot from watts

i'm pretty sure this was a racist encounter. i'm not positive, probably because i'm a rich smart girl from boston, immune to these things. but it went a little something like this:

skip is at the dentist, wearing his uniform because it's the middle of a work day. first off, the dentist begins complaining about having to go to his son's wedding in a week. skip mentions our anniversary is coming up in a week. the dentist replies,

"what idiot gets married in december?"

awkward silence. the dentist then says, "SO! i see you're in the army. did you grow up poor?"

awkward silence again. only momentarily, though, as skip explains to doctor dingaling that no, actually, he didn't. both of his parents had decent jobs, and they did well, especially considering he grew up in los angeles.

"oh! los angeles?" asks dr. d. "what part? watts?"

at this point, skip realizes he should bite his tongue...figuratively, of course, since the dentist's hands are in his mouth. although this is the very reason he is biting his tongue. something about facing off with the guy holding the tools and anesthesia seems questionable.

but who says stuff like that? i'm beginning to wonder if the guy has a white hood to go along with that white coat he's wearing. in less than 3 breaths, the man implied my husband was an idiot, poor, and from the "city most likely to riot" in california. what's with the stereotyping? i think i'll send him a christmas card this year, complete with his very own noose ornament to hang on his tree.

DOMINO!

we like to play a game at night before we go to bed. sometimes it's rummy, or scrabble, or "hurry and do some laundry so the kids have clean underwear for school." you know, the typical games for grownups. last night it was dominoes. i'm new to the domino world and i learned a lot of things.

1. apparently, the object is NOT to line them all up in an interesting formation and then knock one down to observe a brilliant chain reaction.

2. contrary to what i learned in many boyz-in-the-hood-esque movies, you don't have to smoke chronic while you play.

3. also, contrary to what i learned in said movie genres, it's a bad idea to throw down your winning domino and yell "DOMINO, *#@!#"

4. scoring is done by one posessing secret cult knowledge, or a basic understanding of korean charicature:



5. there is a lot of strategy involved. my strategy is to match one number to another. apprently this makes me a bad player.


6. my husband is highly amused by the phrase, "huh? i don't get it."


7. sometimes, a well-meaning husband may not understand that by playing at the highest skill level possible, he is not actually teaching his wife in-depth strategies. he is confusing her while running up a really high score for him.


8. although, according to the scoresheet, he may not be running up a really high score. he may actually be writing a thesis in korean.


9. sometimes, a crafty wife can play stupid long enough to actually get good at a game. watch out, b.


10. there is a whole separate language for this game. and contrary to the approach i was amusing myself with, it's not ebonics.


so. all in all, a fun experience. i didn't win, but i did learn several new things. the best part is how much fun we have together. i can sacrifice an occasional win for a fun-filled shellacking.

it's SMACKDOWN time.

*before i start today's lunatic rant, i just wanted to say thanks for all the email i got regarding the previous post. i have a lot of really deep thinking to do, and some "back to basics" gospel workouts. if i ever get there, i'll invite you all to my kumbayah party.

so. the other day my kindergartener asked if he could borrow my tweezers to pull out his unibrow. upon further probing, i discovered a 6th grader on the bus had been teasing him about it. he said this had been happening for about a week. so i called the bus department, and the man (named DICK, no kidding) assured me he'd look into it. i asked him to get back to me and let me know the results. he said he didn't understand what i was talking about. i said, i would like to know how the child was approached, what was said, and what the results of the conversation were. dick said, "um. oh. i guess i could call you back." i said, "that would be fantastic dick."

so dick called me this morning. he said, "we spoke to the 6th grader, and he said your son was throwing pasta at him." i said, "on friday, keola made a noodle necklace at school. he brought it home, it broke, the 6th grdaer was teasing him, so he threw a noodle at him. i'm not trying to justify my son's actions, he did get in trouble for throwing the noodle. but what was done about the teasing incidents?"
dick said, "well, the 6th grader said he only threw the noodle back because your son threw it at him first. " i said, "dick. you and i spoke last wednesday. the noodle throwing incident took place on friday. the teasing was happening before the noodle was thrown."

dick (i'm really enjoying calling him by his name) said, "well apparently your son isn't too afraid of this other boy if he's throwing pasta at him. and the other boy said he only threw back in self-defense." to which i replied, "so, dick. are you telling me pasta throwing trumps bullying in bus house rules?" "no, ma'am. nothing trumps bullying." at this point, i almost want to laugh, but i'm so annoyed with his complacency and idiocy, i just can't. but i'm laughing now. so i said to dick, "i would like to know what is going to be done to prevent this 6th grader from continuing to tease my kindergartener. in spite of his pasta throwing, he is still much smaller than the 6th grader and i would like to prevent this from escalating."

dick said, "well, your son should sit in the front of the bus and report any teasing to the bus driver immediately." i said, "is anyone going to speak to the 6th grader again and address the real issue here? what is going to be done to protect my child from being teased?" dick replied, "it's our job to protect every child on the bus. your son was throwing pasta at another child. we have an equal responsibility to both children." i said, "dick. are you kidding me? you have done nothing to protect my child. you have fully sided with the 6th grader because he had pasta thrown at him. he has taken no responsibility for his actions. what is going to be done about that?" and dick said, "well, i guess we could look into that again, and if the 6th grader needs to be written up, that's what we would do. but we can't just kick him off the bus."

at this point i could see that dick was clearly not the person i needed to be speaking with to address this issue. i told him that i had made a written note of his complacent response, of his preference towards punishing kindergarten pasta throwing over 6th grade bullying, and that i would then take it up with higher authorities.

so consider this the written note, and if you'll excuse me, i'm off to talk to the 6th grade and kindergarten principals.

...and justice for all.

i need some justice. earlier, i read a post about phunky phresh girls working out. celia, you know i got nothin but mad love for you, and i am not writing this post to rebuttle yours. but it got me thinking, and remembering, and now i'm on a tirade. why is it that skinny women are treated so meanly?! i mean, honestly! this post is not meant to offend, nor to point fingers. but i'm about to speak my mind people, so step back.
this summer at the pool, i got a very nice compliment. it went something like this: "i can't believe you've given birth to three children and can still wear a bikini. you look fantastic."
that made me feel really good. now. here's the comment i usually get: "you are so skinny, you make me sick." is that supposed to be a compliment? if so, it got lost somewhere behind the punch in the gut of being told i make someone sick. i've given it a lot of thought. i've even asked once or twice why that's an acceptable thing to say. and do you know what kind of nonchalant response i get? "oh, people are just jealous." jealous? honestly? consider:

1. if someone is jealous, that is their problem, not mine. am i jealous of sister x's perfectly behaved children in church? *ALL SIX OF THEM!!!?* yes. but do i tell her that she and her children make me sick? i do not.

2. where does the right to insult me become gratuitous? it's that concept of making yourself feel better by belittling another. but why is it socially acceptable to do it to thin women? can we walk up to an overweight woman and say, "you are so fat, you make me sick!"

3. why is it wrong to opt for a healthy lifestyle? i realize i can be obnoxiously condescending about soda drinking and fast food consumption, so i'm working on that. but why is it that in a planning meeting for a church or a school event, when i suggest we DON'T give our children soda and junk, snide remarks are made about me being skinny??? when did my defense become "no, i'm sorry, i didn't say give out hummus bars and crystal light for halloween. perhaps you misunderstood my suggestion."

i realize this post has the potential to create some unhappy feelings. not my intent. all i'm trying to say is give the skinny sistas a break. up until i injured my back, i worked really hard to exercise. and i'll admit there was a mixture of both vanity and healthiness behind that. but contrary to popular belief, thin people do not go to the gym to watch heavy people and feel better about themselves. we go to the gym because it feels good, because we want it and we like it. so the next time you see a thin woman, don't tell her she makes you sick. she may not actually have a perfect life just because she's skinny, and that might make her feel bad.

blackjack, margaritas, and religion

i went to reno for a conference. (if you are interested, it was for AFTB... Army Family Team Building, which is a program designed to link military families to the services available through the army. i am now a certified instructor for this program)

so. reno. first time going. what to say? i love people, i love making new friends. so it made me really happy to hook up with...

jenny and theo. we had a lot of fun. theo took us GV's (gambling virgins) under his wing and we hit the slot machines. major letdown there. i gave it a shot, but when surrounded by chain-smoking gambling addicts, the thrill was dulled. since neither jenny nor i could muster up enough enthusiasm to spend more than a dollar on the slots, we moved on to the blackjack tables. LET THE FUN BEGIN!

i'm no cardshark, but i enjoy a few hands of blackjack. what i don't enjoy is a sadistic israeli dealer named symi. she was BRUTAL! first she was mad bc we turned down the cocktail waitress... it's so much harder to deal to the sober. second, we interrupted her shellacking of two hammered frat boys. they were splitting hands and doubling down left and right, and symi was bathing in their money. add to that the fact that i won five hands straight, and she unleashed her fury. she barked at me for not holding my cards in the proper horizontal position. she snapped at me for not scratching the felt hard enough when i wanted a hit. she growled when my hand touched my chips mid-deal. THIS WAS THE FIVE DOLLAR TABLE! it's not like we were high-stakes folk.

anyway. i won a bunch but left with $2.50. not bad for a single $5.00 bet. but the big fun came afterwards at the sushi bar. we sat down, and the following conversation ensued:

JnT: let's order a pitcher of margaritas. what flavor do you want?

me: i don't drink.

JnT: it's fine after conference hours.

me: no, i don't mean i'm not drinking tonight. i mean i don't drink. ever.

JnT: confused silence

me: i'm mormon

J: what does that have to do with anything?

T: don't you know? jon smith said they're not allowed to drink. WAIT A MINUTE! i thought you married to a brotha?

me: you saw my family picture. you know i am.

T: i KNOW all about that. jon smith let him marry a mormon?

me: my husband is mormon too.

T: WHAT? jon smith don't like that stuff.

me: it's joseph smith. and i think you've gotten some bad information along the way.

J: so you can't have margaritas? wow. how are you different from catholics?

so at this point i have to decide whether the sushi bar at the silver legacy casino is the right place to begin "mormonism 101" with JnT. i clarified a few of theo's misconceptions, answered a couple of jenny's questions, refrained from margarita consumption, and got them to promise me the next time they see two mormon missionaries walking down the street, they'll stop them and ask them a few more things.

i had a great time. i didn't get much sleep due to a hard mattress and a crazy yearning for my husband. reno is a hideous, filthy place and there are a lot of slot machine junkies out there. but the food was excellent, i met great people, and learned a lot of things. jon smith would be proud.