It's the week of the Bishop's birthday and Valentine's Day and so I've decided to create a short list of things I like about the bishop:
1. His blue eyes (a flight attendant once asked him if they were REALLY THAT BLUE and if he was getting off the plane at her stop!)
2. He gets up at 5:30 a.m. to honor his covenants and go to meetings on Sunday.
3. He doesn't expect breakfast at that hour. Or any hour for that matter.
4. Did I mention his blue eyes?
5. He likes my parents, well, except for my dad's European-influenced driving.
6. When I am channel surfing, and he spots a football game, he only asks to see the score.
7. He always knows where his cell phone is (in contrast to the bishop's wife) and is therefore available to help his girls: Me, daughters #1,2, and 3, and his mom, including the time I ran out of gas on the freeway and had (the day before!) filled up the gas can and showed up to help me in less than 10 min.
8. He is a problem-solver---he was matching thread, determined to do some stitching needed on Daughter #3's prom dress since I was busy. (Ahem, I will be finishing that.)
9. If he's conducting Sacrament Meeting, he ignores the time until I am in my seat to start the meeting. Not that the bishop's wife is ever late.
10. He reads my blog and asks about my classes.
Happy Birthday and Happy Valentine's Day, Bishop!
Monday, February 8, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Life can be funny with the Bishop
In case anyone is under the impression that life with a Bishop is all spiritual and pious, consider the following:
On Tuesday we went to the temple to do family names in preparation for sealings on Saturday. Prior to that, I fixed cajun pork chops (really opened a box of Winder Farm chops and threw them in the oven). We had eaten them before without complications. Due to some unforseen events, (the Bishop was late coming out of the dressing room and he is NEVER late) we missed the 6:40 session and ended up on the 7:00 p.m. which is an American Sign Language session for deaf patrons. If you want to go to a really reverent session, this is the one for you. Unfortunately, the cajun spiciness caused some "rumbly, tumbly" noises for both of us. In fact, the bishop noticed two deaf men turning around to look at him, look back at each other, and raise their eyebrows in concern. Unfortunately, we both giggled a bit when he told me in the celestial room.
Earlier in the day, I opened up my purse, pawing through crumpled Christmas receipts, and to my horror found a small package of ornament hangers. I had been in a store with the Bishop a few days before Christmas and picked up a box, remarking to him that we needed some for next year. At that point I planned to purchase them after Christmas when they would be marked down, even though I think they were all of $1.69.
I was aghast! Had I inadvertently put them in my purse instead of back on the shelf? What if I had been arrested for shoplifting? Was I now going to have to remember which store I had been in and go and confess my total lack of attention?And worst still, pay full price?
When we got home from the temple, I asked the Bishop: "Do you know how this box got in my purse?" He replied: "I knew you wanted some so I bought them at Smith's on our way home from snowmobiling. They were .19 cents. Did I forget to tell you?"
What a guy!
On Tuesday we went to the temple to do family names in preparation for sealings on Saturday. Prior to that, I fixed cajun pork chops (really opened a box of Winder Farm chops and threw them in the oven). We had eaten them before without complications. Due to some unforseen events, (the Bishop was late coming out of the dressing room and he is NEVER late) we missed the 6:40 session and ended up on the 7:00 p.m. which is an American Sign Language session for deaf patrons. If you want to go to a really reverent session, this is the one for you. Unfortunately, the cajun spiciness caused some "rumbly, tumbly" noises for both of us. In fact, the bishop noticed two deaf men turning around to look at him, look back at each other, and raise their eyebrows in concern. Unfortunately, we both giggled a bit when he told me in the celestial room.
Earlier in the day, I opened up my purse, pawing through crumpled Christmas receipts, and to my horror found a small package of ornament hangers. I had been in a store with the Bishop a few days before Christmas and picked up a box, remarking to him that we needed some for next year. At that point I planned to purchase them after Christmas when they would be marked down, even though I think they were all of $1.69.
I was aghast! Had I inadvertently put them in my purse instead of back on the shelf? What if I had been arrested for shoplifting? Was I now going to have to remember which store I had been in and go and confess my total lack of attention?And worst still, pay full price?
When we got home from the temple, I asked the Bishop: "Do you know how this box got in my purse?" He replied: "I knew you wanted some so I bought them at Smith's on our way home from snowmobiling. They were .19 cents. Did I forget to tell you?"
What a guy!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Christmas with the Bishop's Family
The holidays of 2009: The year of putting my life on Fast Forward, Rewind, and Pause all at the same time. In the words of Dickens: "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times."
For possibly the first time in my life, I did something early. I always get sick in January---after Christmas, after finals are graded and posted, after the Bishop finishes tithing settlement, after the holiday fun is over. This year, I started when we drug the tree into the house---the first day of December. It is now Dec. 20 and I still wish I could sleep 12 hours a day. Now that I am off my antibiotics for double ear infections, the bishop is coughing non stop and having fun with kidney stones, and Daughter #2 is bleeding from the mouth (story below).
It was the Christmas of puting up one decoration at a time. And five on the Christmas tree in one quick pass. I should have rented some kids to help me.
The master's thesis defense of Daughter #1. In Geology. Now we know why she always wanted to be outside playing with mud and water and rocks when she was little. And why she built the water slide in the kitchen at age 3. In fact, as I watched her present at her defense, the clock kept going backwards and I saw her at age 5, 10, 15, and so on . . . It was like a movie where the character goes back in time to let the audience know the backstory.
Daughter #3 playing Glinda the Good Witch, swooping in at our house occasionally between performances on stage. After the successful run, she went right to Madrigal and Bel canto performances: about 40 this month and counting. Glinda says, "Remember, only bad witches are ugly!" Thankfully, one performance was at our ward's Relief Society party so I could complete two things in one swoop! (Thanks, Wendy)
Daughter #2 successfuly completing her internship at the Bank of Southern Utah, while also working as the Honor's Assistant, carrying 15 credits, and coming home to have her wisdom teeth removed on Dec. 18.
It was the December of 42 Freshmen Research Papers, 42 Final Papers, and 42 Personal Narratives---now all graded and returned. I'm tired just typing that. (About 700 pages of text to read and evaluate)
Every year I plan to be more organized for December. Since every year December gets away from me. There is often a wedding or funeral in for the bishop and tithing settlement, and making sure ward members are okay for Christmas. In other words, the Bishop is not a lot of help in December. Last Sunday he was at the church from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. and then home to answer more calls and collapse in his recliner. It just happens to also be the busiest time of the year for me, as well.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
For possibly the first time in my life, I did something early. I always get sick in January---after Christmas, after finals are graded and posted, after the Bishop finishes tithing settlement, after the holiday fun is over. This year, I started when we drug the tree into the house---the first day of December. It is now Dec. 20 and I still wish I could sleep 12 hours a day. Now that I am off my antibiotics for double ear infections, the bishop is coughing non stop and having fun with kidney stones, and Daughter #2 is bleeding from the mouth (story below).
It was the Christmas of puting up one decoration at a time. And five on the Christmas tree in one quick pass. I should have rented some kids to help me.
The master's thesis defense of Daughter #1. In Geology. Now we know why she always wanted to be outside playing with mud and water and rocks when she was little. And why she built the water slide in the kitchen at age 3. In fact, as I watched her present at her defense, the clock kept going backwards and I saw her at age 5, 10, 15, and so on . . . It was like a movie where the character goes back in time to let the audience know the backstory.
Daughter #3 playing Glinda the Good Witch, swooping in at our house occasionally between performances on stage. After the successful run, she went right to Madrigal and Bel canto performances: about 40 this month and counting. Glinda says, "Remember, only bad witches are ugly!" Thankfully, one performance was at our ward's Relief Society party so I could complete two things in one swoop! (Thanks, Wendy)
Daughter #2 successfuly completing her internship at the Bank of Southern Utah, while also working as the Honor's Assistant, carrying 15 credits, and coming home to have her wisdom teeth removed on Dec. 18.
It was the December of 42 Freshmen Research Papers, 42 Final Papers, and 42 Personal Narratives---now all graded and returned. I'm tired just typing that. (About 700 pages of text to read and evaluate)
Every year I plan to be more organized for December. Since every year December gets away from me. There is often a wedding or funeral in for the bishop and tithing settlement, and making sure ward members are okay for Christmas. In other words, the Bishop is not a lot of help in December. Last Sunday he was at the church from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. and then home to answer more calls and collapse in his recliner. It just happens to also be the busiest time of the year for me, as well.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
Monday, November 2, 2009
The Bishop gets sconed? 500 and counting
For more than 10 years, possibly 14, our Halloween Eve has been full of dough. The bishop, before he had the title, decided he wanted to turn our garage into a mini state fair and deep fry scones and serve hot chocolate for the trick-or-treaters. On his mission, the bishop had worked at a state fair cooking "elephant ears" to help the ward raise money. So, the bishop's wife agreed---soley because she thought it would get the garage cleaned. (Note to self: This plan has not worked for the last ten).
This year we estimate we served 500+ (16 lbs of dough) starting at 4:30 with the cutest nieces in the world, and pulling the last dough out of the fry pan at 10:50 p.m. for the bishop's daughters's friends. The bishop was so tired when he went to bed that he didn't even snore, or the bishop's wife was too tired to notice if he did.
We realized we were now serving small children of parents that came when they were children.
We serve parents and kids and neighbors who no longer have kids. The bishop has music, (Phantom of the Opera or Wicked), sometimes a movie playing on a large sheet, and padded chairs for seating. He decorates, (disguises the piles of junk in the garage) he plans, he makes at least three trips to the store on the big day, (this year he forgot honey butter), and he stretches dough all night long with his big, capable hands. The bishop's wife pours hot chocolate and juice, runs in and out of the house getting fresh dough, more paper towels, more cups, more cinnamon-sugar, etc. Along the way we see neighbors we haven't seen for awhile, a teenage boy riding his bike dressed like the abominable snowman, Captain Jack Sparrow, the Jonas Brothers, Draco Malfoy, Michael Jackson, and Strawberry Shortcake.
One year we had the police stop by and ask for our food handler's permit---the bishop handed him a scone, and the next thing we knew the entire force was in our driveway, lights flashing, eating scones.
Last year after the Primary Sacrament Meeting Program, the bishop told the children that they had sung so well he wanted them to come to his house for a hot treat the next Saturday. The bishop's wife almost had a coronary episode until she realized that Saturday would be Halloween.
The bishop's wife's two favorite comments came from teenage boys: "I told you we had a cool bishop," and "I look forward to coming every year."
Maybe next year we will get the garage cleaned.
Monday, October 26, 2009
The Bishop's Daughter AKA Undercover Cadet
It's the perfect after school job, she said. Just a few hours a week. I'll be working at the local Police Department. I will get a badge and everything. How could I get into trouble? Even I didn't smell the irony coming.
As an English teacher, I instruct on how to spot the varying forms of this literary device. As the bishop's wife, I'm starting to be annoyed at its presence in my life.
If you want a review, here it goes:
Dramatic irony: when the audience knows something one of the characters on stage doesn't know. Ex: Ask any bishop's wife---everyone in the ward knows more than she does.
Situational irony: When something in the story happens at the wrong time. Ex: See Fanny's Dream by Utah authors. The fairy godmother shows up too late. Or someone shows up in the wrong place. Ex. The story of this blog.
Sarcasm: a subset of irony---talk to any teenager and you will be drenched with it. (There's also parody and satire, but I'm tired of definitions.)
The bishop's daughter neglected to explain her job in detail, especially the part called, "tobacco and alcohol buys." The police department sends the underage cadets into stores where they see if the clerks will sell the cadets these products without checking their ID. If the clerks are not diligent, the police officers enter the store and give the clerks a ticket and some training. Of course the cadets don't keep the alcohol or tobacco and the police officers are not in uniform.
Last Wednesday night, exactly at Mutual time, our daughter was assigned to go on a "tobacco buy" at the store just up from our meetinghouse. After she texted her Young Women's President to say she was working and not coming to Mutual, she walked in, sans cadet uniform, and as instructed, requested Virginia Slims. At this point she noticed the ENTIRE scout troop from our ward along with the Scout leaders in the store. Including the wide-eyed twelve-year-old son of her Young Women's President who noticed the bishop's daughter asking for cigarettes.
She tried to explain outside the store: "This is part of my job. I'm just undercover right now."
She came home and laughed and told the bishop who laughed also, but I didn't see the humor really reach his eyes.
Irony strikes again.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
The Bishop is one Hot Tamale!
We're talking the fire truck came with sirens screaming hot! We're talking all the fire alarms in the Sheraton Hotel in San Diego blaring hot!
And we said we must have a NON-SMOKING room when we checked in. "Oh, yes," said the hotel clerk. "All are rooms are non-smoking," as she handed us a card to remind us not to smoke in the room.
When we left, on the run, the smoke was billowing under the door.
So smelling like smoke, we hurried to our destination: the San Diego Temple.
"Walk fast," said the bishop. "Hurry past the recommend desk and change your clothes. Maybe no one will notice."
No more cooking popcorn in a hotel microwave. It's too hot to handle.
President Hinckley said that all the temples are beautiful but a few are crown jewels---one of those is clearly the San Diego Temple. It is so magnificent that when I walked into the celestial room today, (and I've been there three times before) it took my breath away. The celestial room has four levels and two of the sides of the room are ceiling to floor stained glass windows. The room is everchanging as the light changes on the stained glass. Last anniversary we watched the sunset from the celestial room. Muy bonita! Beautiful white carpets and furnishings with golden staircases leading upwards to private alcoves and finally up to an atrium. Touches of peach florals and four chandeliers. A place of light and beauty and peace---a bridge between earth and heaven.
As I sat today in the temple and felt so grateful to have someone to share such beauty with, I wondered if maybe something was trying to keep us from enjoying such a moment.
The bishop snuggled close to me. "You don't smell too bad," he said.
And we said we must have a NON-SMOKING room when we checked in. "Oh, yes," said the hotel clerk. "All are rooms are non-smoking," as she handed us a card to remind us not to smoke in the room.
When we left, on the run, the smoke was billowing under the door.
So smelling like smoke, we hurried to our destination: the San Diego Temple.
"Walk fast," said the bishop. "Hurry past the recommend desk and change your clothes. Maybe no one will notice."
Other than the woman seated behind me who coughed a lot during the session, I don't think anyone noticed. Who knows---she could have had a cold.
No more cooking popcorn in a hotel microwave. It's too hot to handle.
President Hinckley said that all the temples are beautiful but a few are crown jewels---one of those is clearly the San Diego Temple. It is so magnificent that when I walked into the celestial room today, (and I've been there three times before) it took my breath away. The celestial room has four levels and two of the sides of the room are ceiling to floor stained glass windows. The room is everchanging as the light changes on the stained glass. Last anniversary we watched the sunset from the celestial room. Muy bonita! Beautiful white carpets and furnishings with golden staircases leading upwards to private alcoves and finally up to an atrium. Touches of peach florals and four chandeliers. A place of light and beauty and peace---a bridge between earth and heaven.
As I sat today in the temple and felt so grateful to have someone to share such beauty with, I wondered if maybe something was trying to keep us from enjoying such a moment.
The bishop snuggled close to me. "You don't smell too bad," he said.
It was a smoking hot 29th anniversary!
Saturday, October 3, 2009
General Conference: The Bishop gets Sunday off
My broken toe has almost healed. I broke it when I jumped up early on Labor Day, turned on the light, realized it was Monday (the day after the Bishop works very hard on Sunday), and quickly turned it off to let the Bishop sleep in, and in the ensuing darkness jammed my foot against the TV stand. Jammed it so hard that I grabbed the towel stand in the bathroom and inadvertently pulled it out of the wall to keep from screaming. And waking up the Bishop. Of course, when the towel stand came out of the wall, it woke up the Bishop.
Irony aside, I was looking forward to General Conference when the Bishop gets Sunday off, sort of. Our weekend started Saturday morning at 2:00 a.m. with a call for the Bishop. Not from a member of the ward, but from his sister asking for help with his extremely ill mother. It was another heart attack. Preceded by pneumonia three weeks ago and a serious heart attack two months before that. She has congestive heart failure, leukemia, aggressive diabetes, high blood pressure, and the vestiges of a stroke from eight years ago. Dying, I have decided, it more difficult than I thought.
As the bishop's wife, I have accompanied him many times to the hospital and to homes to visit ill ward members and now his mother. Does the Lord bless bishops with a special bedside manner? Something almost sacred happens when he walks in and takes his mother's hand. Her eyes soften, and she is calm. Her strong, faithful son is close. The worry lifts from his father's eyes for a moment, and he is able to smile. The Bishop knows how to adjust her bed, attach a cup holder so she can reach her water glass, help her sit up to cough. He schedules her nurse four times a day to check her diabetes, the physical therapist, the aide. The disagreeable smells and rows of pills and boxes of syringes don't deter him. He carefully cut the toenails of her diabetic feet when the medical team was too worried about infection to help.
I've seen it before with ward members. It is, perhaps, one of his special gifts. It is seeing Christ in the face of one of his servants.
Irony aside, I was looking forward to General Conference when the Bishop gets Sunday off, sort of. Our weekend started Saturday morning at 2:00 a.m. with a call for the Bishop. Not from a member of the ward, but from his sister asking for help with his extremely ill mother. It was another heart attack. Preceded by pneumonia three weeks ago and a serious heart attack two months before that. She has congestive heart failure, leukemia, aggressive diabetes, high blood pressure, and the vestiges of a stroke from eight years ago. Dying, I have decided, it more difficult than I thought.
As the bishop's wife, I have accompanied him many times to the hospital and to homes to visit ill ward members and now his mother. Does the Lord bless bishops with a special bedside manner? Something almost sacred happens when he walks in and takes his mother's hand. Her eyes soften, and she is calm. Her strong, faithful son is close. The worry lifts from his father's eyes for a moment, and he is able to smile. The Bishop knows how to adjust her bed, attach a cup holder so she can reach her water glass, help her sit up to cough. He schedules her nurse four times a day to check her diabetes, the physical therapist, the aide. The disagreeable smells and rows of pills and boxes of syringes don't deter him. He carefully cut the toenails of her diabetic feet when the medical team was too worried about infection to help.
I've seen it before with ward members. It is, perhaps, one of his special gifts. It is seeing Christ in the face of one of his servants.
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