The Bishop and the Police Department

How do you know when it is time to be released as the bishop's family?

A couple of Sundays ago, I was trying to catch up on a bad night's sleep, and the phone rang in the early a.m. "This is the Police Department," I heard on the line, "and we are looking for your husband."
"Well, he's not here," I said.
"Do you own a Mercury Villager blue van with license plates"  . . . . the dispatcher asked.
"That sounds familiar," I said, a little concerned.
"Do you know where said car is at this moment?" she asked.
I had stayed up late to lock the doors after the teenager and pre-missionary were in. Would they had got up and took the car? The van with peeling paint and dents on every side?
"My husband had to have taken it to the church," I said, decisively.
Well, yes, it has been reported as abandoned overnight at the Green Oaks church."
At this point, I was struggling not to laugh, and relieved at the same time so I said, "Actually that van has been abandoned at the church for five and half years."  Finally I had the dispatcher surprised. I went on to say, "My husband is the bishop."
"Well, the people that reported it must not go to church, she replied.
I hung up the phone and laughed and decided it is time to be released when your car is reported abandoned at the church.

And the day came two weeks later. The announcement came at our daughter's opportunity to speak (aka farewell) before leaving on her mission to Poland! What a two weeks that was.

One last bit of irony: While my husband, now the ex-bishop, was giving his final testimony as bishop on the day of his release, the sign on the bishop's office with his name came unglued and slid to the floor. The second counselor saw it and gave it to him after the meeting.

It was time.

The bishop's wife screams occasionally

Now that I am older, I am seeing a few advantages to having younger siblings. While growing up changing diapers, looking for the binky or blanket to stop the screaming of one of those siblings, I was certain there were no pros to being a big sister. However, I no longer have young children, and when I want to do things kids like to do, I just borrow my siblings' children. I'm not their mother so I don't have to make them floss their teeth or eat nutritious food at my house. Chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast are okay. Playing card games until midnight is also allowed. What are their parents going to do? Fire me as a free babysitter/aunt of the year? Disclaimer: I am still a responsible adult and take good care of my siblings' kidlets.

Some of our adventures:

• Screaming as we ran around inside East High after going to U of U Gymnastics (Location of "High School Musical" if you are really out of it. Ask Tris for more info.)
• Flying one morning to Cali, getting on the wrong bus, exploring every inch of the Long Beach Aquarium after getting on the right bus, eating dinner at the airport while watching the planes land and take off, and flying home that night---beat that any of you wannnabe aunts of the year!

• Walking my dog, Lucy. Oh, the love that was showered on our family pooch. The magic of spending time with an eight-year-old is that simple things become magical.
• Going to the Church Museum---it is so much more interesting to share with a child. One loved the children's tea set that crossed the plains; one loved every single thing. "Did we see everything?" Tay-Tay asked as we left. I thought the same thing.
• Walking through Thanksgiving Point flower gardens on a summer night. The picture on my cell phone of a beautiful flower is there because my niece Nia taught me how to use the camera on the phone.
• Reading books together. Usually after a long walk with Lucy. Knowing all the places they will go if they love books as much as I do. Giving them hand-me-down books my girls read and loved.
• Hiking Rock Canyon. Crossing the river is more fun if someone is holding your hand.

• Dancing at the Symphony. Watching Jazzy dance at the Symphony. The outdoor symphony in the summertime. Lying on a blanket with lots of licorice and candy around. Watching the fireworks afterwards. Really, the only way to do the symphony. Even if you are a Humanities major.
• Playing card games. Here I confess some bias. We play "Authors." If you don't know that game, you must not be an English nerd. Of course, it is my fault that Tay -Tay and Nia know the titles of Louisa Alcott and Edgar Allan Poe.
• Attending the Theatre. Well, the high school version of Peter Pan may not be serious theatre but still is a lot of fun when JC laughs at all the jokes.

Valentine's Day/Birthday for the Bishop

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!

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!

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.

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.

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.