Not hanging out here anytime soon
Let me lay out standard Sunday meetings for those of you not familiar with the way my quirky religion does things. The church is split into geographical areas depending on population. The individual areas are called wards. Multiple wards make up a stake, multiple stakes make up a district, and multiple districts make up an area. I’m a little fuzzy on the larger units, but I’m pretty sure that’s how it’s split (heh heh, I said unit.) Every ward meets for three hours each Sunday in a yearly revolving schedule depending on how many wards use the same building. Ours starts at 9:00 AM this year, ugh. The three-hour block is split into Sacrament Meeting, Sunday School, and Priesthood or Relief Society, depending on gender.
Gotta keep 'em seperated
Vicki goes to Primary School for the second and third hours, Zoe goes to nursery, and Scarlett goes to my arms. Stacy teaches Vicki’s primary class each week, so the Screaming One can’t burden her. Instead, it is my job to convince Scarlett that the thing she wants most in the world is to sleep. This kid doesn’t even want that in the middle of the night. Convincing her of that in the middle of the day takes everything short of a miracle. That “everything” involves me pacing the halls for the hour after Sacrament Meeting. By the time the third hour has rolled around, Scarlett is usually asleep and my back is killing me. I’ll usually sneak into Stacy’s class to help her with the five-year-old hellions while trying to keep Scarlett asleep on my shoulder.
Don't let the yawn fool you. This kid'll be up for hours yet
By the time we limp home, we’re pretty beat. It’d be great to slink off for some Sunday afternoon naptime, but the fun isnt’ over yet. For one thing, the kids would never tolerate such laziness, at least not for both Stacy and I. Instead, one of us has to amuse the locals while the other one grabs some illicit rest. For the other thing, I have been busy home teaching every week for the past three weeks.
Still not going here.
Another quirky thing my religion does is home and visiting teaching. Every growed up man in the church is partnered with another, or his son if he’s old enough (yeah, not going to happen in this family!) and they are given a few families to visit. The home teachers see their families monthly (or semi-annually for most home teachers,) share a spiritual message, and make sure the family doesn’t need anything. This way, we take care of our own.
We're here to take real good care of youse. Reeeeaaaal good.
It also means that I have been out and about with my home teaching partner, a man I barely know, every week. I am a shy person. I try to overcome that problem by making conversation, but I am really no good at it. If I don’t have something in common with a person, the chances are we’re going to end up talking about the weather or Virginia traffic at length, at nauseating length. Guess what my home teaching companion and I have been discussing every week as we drive from family to family? Traffic, nothing but traffic. He reminisces about how well traffic flows in his small central California home town and I just nod, agree, and interject about Virginia traffic madness once in a while. It’s fascinating, scintillating conversation, let me tell you. It’s almost as interesting as this post. Why are you still reading, anyway? I probably would have given up reading after the first or second paragraph myself. **YAWN** Ah well, it’s your ocular cancer.
Bout as entertaining as talking to this guy would be
To make an already unnecessarily long story a little shorter, Sundays have been no day off. I enjoy spending the time at church with my family, but as weekend days go, I think I miss Thursday just a little bit.
On a completely unrelated and decidedly more secular note, Stacy and I watched The Dukes of Hazzard last night. I know it’s been out for a while, but we just got around to renting it. I don’t know why it didn’t do too well in the theaters. Sure, it’s no masterpiece, but it’s definitely entertaining. They captured the spirit of the old TV show rather well. It had its shortcomings, of course. Johnny Knoxville and Seann William Scott as Luke Duke and Bo Duke respectively came off a little more American Pie than Appalachian American, but they still did a respectable job. Willie Nelson as Uncle Jesse spouted more one-liners than down-country wisdom, which had me scratching my head a little. (Here's another one; drunk walks out of a bar and runs into a guy carrying an antique grandfather clock. The guy drops the clock, breaking into a million pieces. He looks at the drunk and says, "Why don't you watch where you're going?" The drunk looks at him and says, "Why don't you carry a wristwatch like everybody else?") Burt Reynolds added a little more menace than comedy in his menacingly comedic role of Boss Hogg. Enos, Rosco, and Cooter were along for the ride, but I wouldn’t give them credit for much more. Lynda Carter was looking a fine 55 as Pauline. Wonder Woman has aged well! Not one of them holds the barest flicker of candle light to the stars of the show, though, Jessica Simpson’s twins. Catherine Bach had to be crying as she watched her Daisy Dukes stride across the screen above Simpson’s stunning gams. Holy smokes! This movie is worth the rental just for Simpson’s scenes. I’ll warn you, though. She’s not that great of an actress. Don’t expect to be amazed by her skills as a thespian. As a matter of fact, you’d appreciate the scenes just as much with the mute on as off. Her video in the bonus materials section is worth the cost of the rental alone. Go relive the spirit of NASCAR’s beginnings and treat yourself to the guilty pleasure of The Dukes of Hazzard and you’ll see what I mean.
Speechless
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