Such a Strange Saturday Morning

So Jen and I have been ward missionaries for a few months now but have yet to actually DO anything with our calling. This is not because of any personnel shortcoming but because one ward leader was released and another was called so we have been trying to get into the swing of things. We received a phone call from the new ward mission leader, Brother Nameless an 80+ year old man, who wanted to meet us and have a meeting about how to proceed with our callings. We went over to his house today to have said meeting. We met his wife who had a stroke a while back and is very friendly but cannot form words. Her mind appears to be sharp but her faculties are lacking. We got into the small talk and looked at some super cool old pictures of their ancestors and when we ran out of things to talk about we got down to business. As we sat at the kitchen table he informed us that he had suffered the entire night with tendinitis in his right shoulder. As we sat there discussing ward missionary work we noticed that he began to sweat a bit around the hairline. He then began to look paler and apologized for a few momentary mental lapses. He then mumbled something about feeling a bit nauseous and stopped speaking all together. When he began to sway in his chair Jen and I jumped to our feet and kept him from falling over. He then regained some semblance of sentience and said he would like to be taken to his room. We got him to his feet and began shuffling to his room when he started to go down again. We stopped and asked him if he would like to sit in a nearby chair but he simply shook his head and said, "bed." We finally made it all the way to his room where we laid him in his bed. We then went to check on his wife who was crying and all out of sorts with worry about her husband. As we assured her that he would be OK I heard him calling my name from the adjoining room. I went in his room to find him feeling just barely well enough to talk upon which he asked me to put a movie in for his wife. As I was leaving the room he stopped me by calling my name. I paused in the doorway and he said in a halting voice, "Brother Watson...thank you so much... for helping me and my wife...you should probably...do something about...your fly." I looked down at my pants to see that my zipper was wide open. From one man to another even one who looks moribund we understood the importance of zipper protocol. I thanked him profusely and went back into Sister Nameless' room to find her frustrated and yelling unintelligibly at Jen who could not figure out how to work the television to get the movie going. We bumbled around for a bit trying to figure the blasted thing out with a constant barrage of indecipherable instructions at our backs. I finally went to the expert who lay dying in the next bedroom. I woke him up and copiously apologizing for my incompetence asked him how to work the television. After a lethargic tutorial I went back and saved the day. We left after that hoping that leaving the scene would not cause us to be arrested for negligence. We'll go back this afternoon to see if everything is alright.

WREB

What is WREB you ask. Well it's a "national dental and dental hygiene testing agency." They are in charge of the greater part of my board exams at the end of this semester. And the picture above? Those are the documents WREB sent me for one of my exams, for me to take special care of and produce in March on my exam date. Why are they torn in half you might ask. I'll tell you.

Yesterday I sat frustrated in clinic trying to scrap off a piece of the most tenacious calculus I've ever tried to conquer when I heard whispered in my ear, "your cute husband is here and he needs to show you something." My first thought. . . . WHY is Joseph here? What ever he has to show me cannot be good. I'm thinking: did he get into a wreck? Are his reffing pants melted? Did he cut off a limb? Did our house burn down? Reluctantly I excused myself from my patient and met Joseph out in the waiting room. He stood there timidly, his shoulders slumped holding the papers shown above. "What's that?" I asked. "I'm sorry," was his reply, "I didn't mean to!" As I got closer I realized what it was. . . . the confirmation papers for the exams that I just paid a couple of thousands of dollars for. Included were two papers to keep and produce on the date of my exam.

Upon further explanation Joseph had thought that the large manilla envelope addressed to ME with the return address of WREB in the upper left hand corner was actually a book that he ordered online. Instead of opening the envelope like a civilized person he tore the top third off including the precious papers located inside. Upon his discovery that he had torn my very important papers he drove directly to the school to show me. I must give him props because he had everyone in the clinic laughing that he would come in scared out of his mind to show me right away. He also chose wisely in displaying his offense in a public setting or he might not be walking today.

I've pieced the papers back together, but with a profession based on professionalism I cannot present taped papers at my board exam. So I'm off to the copy stores to find the perfect shades of pink and purple to make copies on.

Lessons to be learned from this: 1- Don't open mail that doesn't have your name on it. 2- Tearing envelopes down the middle will almost always tear the contents inside. 3 - If you ever ruin something that belongs to someone else, reveal the damage in a public setting so as to avoid being beaten.

Blessed

Last week Jen and I went to tithing settlement and wrote out a check for the balance of our tithing for the year. I was richly blessed this week as I always am when I pay my tithing. I ran into a girl I dated a long time ago. She introduced me to her husband. He is a short bald guy. Malachi 3:10.

ESPN College Game Day

Who would miss ESPN College Game Day when they come to the town you are living in. Not me!

C's get degrees

This is what I tell myself when I get a 74% on a test. C's get degrees (today I'm including C-'s)Good thing there was an extra credit question on the test.

"I don't want that spider in my house!"

I HATE spiders!!! I have often been quoted as saying, "I don't want THAT spider in my house." After which Joseph usually says, "what spider do you want in your house?" Today as I sat in my living room, happily working on my computer I glance over my shoulder out the window only to see this:

I immediately jumped up and ran to Joseph begging him to take care of the problem clinging to my window. He said he would take care of it in a while so I sat back down at my table and tried to work. Have you ever tried to work next to a black widow spider? Now granted the spider was on the outside of the window and I was on the inside, but "I don't want THAT spider in my house!" After about 30 seconds this wild beast's long black legs started to move and I began to pester Joseph again to take care of the problem. After about 10 minutes of me following him around the house ranting and raving that no work could be done until such problem was dead and shriveled upon it's ugly black and red self he took this:

outside to spray down our window wells until they were bug free. I pulled up the blinds and coached him on where to spray and how much to spray, while being protected behind the single pane of glass separating me from THAT spider. Once the spider was deceased I motioned through the window that Joseph could return inside.

Ahhhhhh, problem solved, work is now getting done. (Special sorry to Joseph for having to brave the wild beast alone. Next time I'll try to help you.)

What to Blog

I read my friend's blogs on almost a daily basis and laugh my guts out at their funny adventures. And then I sit quietly and think. . . ."I wish I had something exciting that I could blog about." And then I think over the last few months of my life and realize that if I just would sit down everyday and think about what I'd done I could come up with some pretty funny things:

Spilling stain in the back of my in-law's Tahoe and then spending 3 hours cleaning it out and 4 weeks trying to air out the smell.

In-laws cat pooping in the house and burying it with shoes (it's what cats do, they bury their doo)

Fist fight breaking out at work (intramural flag football - I was supposed to call campus police but I just stood there with my mouth open and drool dripping from my chin. . . oops!)

Leaning out the car windows on I-15 trying to get the attention of Bobby Bowden (FSU's football coach) with no success and then calling everyone we know to tell them that we saw Bobby Bowden.

The list could go on and on. I guess what I'm trying to say is my new resolve is to blog at least once a week. It's kinda like flossing. . . it hurts the first time you do it, it might even bleed a little, but over time it gets better and better and soon you actually start liking it.