One for the Kids

Twas the night before tomorrow,
when in our front yard
came a shout from my husband,
"Come see this mallard!"
But I in my longjohns,
post-shower, all clean,
had just settled for the night
in front of the computer screen.
"But you must see this!"
said he in a fury,
"They are cute and adorable!
Quick! You must hurry!"
I threw on some clothes,
put my hair in a bow,
And lo! There they were!
All the ducks in a row.
My heart did melt
 at the sight of these creatures,
their tiny beaks,
and their feathered features.
The mother bird warned,
"It looks like rain!"
(It was just the sprinkler,
but they DO have tiny brains.)
The freshly cut grass 
they thoroughly enjoyed,
strewn about with bugs
they didn't avoid.
Suddenly I was struck 
with a brilliant idea.
"Get some bread!" I yelled,
"Or maybe a tortilla?"
They didn't enjoy it
much to my chagrin.
Perhaps it's the carbs,
and they're trying to stay thin?
Through all of the ruckus
we failed to regard
the poor dog in the window,
watching over the yard.
His tail said playful,
but his eyes whispered sin.
Experience has taught us
his belly they'd be in.
As darkness settled,
away they did go.
Happily ever after they lived.
Or...we assume so.


We kinda love our dog.... too much.

If you're like me, you wait all year for those Summer blockbusters to come out. This year though, I've been a little disappointed with the slim pickins in the theater.
I can't complain unless I'm willing to help solve the problem, right?
So without further ado, I'm pleased to announce...
This video I made about my dog.

(Poster may be misleading and does not accurately depict what is shown in the video. Rated G. For all audiences.)
It's done, so far, great at the box office.


A View from the Outside

Two weeks ago marked 5 years since my baptism. It's made me reflect a lot on my life before and since my baptism. Because growing up in a small town in Utah as the minority isn't easy. And it isn't the church that makes it that way, it's the members.
I've always been grateful to have been raised the way I was. I was given a unique opportunity to choose exactly what I believed, if anything. I think, even after becoming a member, it's given me a different perspective. Maybe I'm a little too sensitive, still, about some of the things that are said.
For example, a well-meaning Primary teacher asking all the kids to promise they will get married in the temple. Telling them if someone comes along who can't take them to the temple, you should "kick them to the curb!" The kids, of course, got very excited about this. Every one of them promised they would do no such evil. Because everyone in that room was picturing a spiky haired boy with bad tattoos and worse intentions... except for me. I was picturing my brothers.
We all had generally the same experiences growing up. There were the few kind Mormon friends who graciously invited us to activities, but were never pushy. But more often than not, it was the friends who were suddenly not allowed to hang out with us because we weren't LDS.
Sometimes, especially in the case of my brothers, it came from the parents. They weren't allowed to date them because they weren't LDS. When I was sixteen, I dated a boy who, on the way inside to meet his parents told me, "By the way, I had to tell them you were LDS so they wouldn't kick you out of the house."
Despite the fact that people were always very surprised to learn I wasn't LDS, to many I still became a leper once that knowledge came to light. Many of the people I grew up with were nice when we were little, then slowly stopped talking to me when they realized I wasn't attending Mutual with them every week.
I had multiple friends tell me my marriage would never be "real", because I was the only friend they had who would never get married in the temple.
I had people tell me they couldn't hang out with someone who wasn't LDS, because I was a bad example.
Since my conversion, I've noticed even stranger things. There are the people (usually newly returned missionaries) who excitedly ask to hear my entire conversion story. Then there are the people who look at me fearfully and try not to talk about doctrine in front of me, because being a convert means I used to have a serious drug problem, and I was a dancer in Vegas.

The girl who literally slept on a bunk bed and had multiple stuffed animals until, like, three years ago. The only alcohol I've ever had was in a CHURCH, because I didn't realize some churches actually serve wine as their sacrament, and I distinctly remember thinking, "Yay, grape juice! How fun!...EEW WHAT DID I JUST DRINK?"
Even once I started coming to church, I had a hard time with Young Women's. Most of the girls wouldn't even talk to me, and I felt very alone. It's scary doing something you've never done before, and even scarier if you have to do it by yourself.
Is this really the impression we want to give of our church?
I will say that I get it. I will be the first to tell you that my temple marriage is the greatest blessing in my life. But just because I have this doctrine in my life, just because I know the truth and want to live it, doesn't make me better than anyone else. It means I should desire it for my neighbor as well. I'm not saying you should marry someone to convert them, I'm saying don't be like my friends who came over to borrow a board game they knew I had, then didn't invite me to play it with them. Be like my friend who realized how many questions I had, and was always there to answer them. Be like my friend who took notes in seminary and handed them to me after class so I could learn more. Be like my friend who consistently invited me to activities, then didn't blame me when I wasn't allowed to go.
Be like my friends who brought me to the church. You have a great blessing in your life, but that doesn't make you special. It means you have a lot of work to do. It means you should desire it for those few around you who don't have it, and do everything you can to make them want to have it too.