Off To Hong Kong to research Gluten Free

I am leaving to go to Hong Kong for a couple of years. I'm looking forward to learning about the country and to discovering whether or not Hong Kong's steamed deep fried chicken feet can be made gluten free. Wish me luck!

If you wish to follow my travails (travels) check out my newest blog:

www.sistermissionary.blogspot.com

The Irony

OH, I shouldn't be on here, I'm writing an essay due in at 1:35 pm today... but I couldn't help sharing the hilarity.

The essay is on adolescent experiences which changed domains (social, cognitive, moral, etc) of our lives. Of course, one of the experiences I mentioned was being diagnosed with celiac disease.

I had just begun the "health" domain of celiac disease when I took a break for lunch: plain yogurt straight from the container and a cup of chocolate chip cookie dough (GF!) that I found in the bottom of the fridge while looking for the yogurt.

As I returned with my spoils to continue the essay, I found the cursor blinking at the end of this beautifully ironic sentence:

The diagnosis of celiac disease greatly influenced my eating habits

Oh, how true it is... I think I meant, "for the better," but can't bring myself to type it.
That is, at least until I finish off this cookie dough.

.

Henry B. Eyring, "Fellowship of the Unashamed"

I am part of the fellowship of the unashamed. The dye has been cast!
I have stepped over the line.
The decision has been made; I am a disciple of Jesus Christ.
I won't look back, let up, slow down, or be still.
My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is secure.
I'm finished and done with low living, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tainted visions, worldly talking, cheap giving, and dwarfed goals.
I no longer need pre-eminence, positions, promotions, plaudits or popularity.
I now live by faith, lean on His presence, walk with patience, am uplifted by prayer, and labor with power. My face is set, my gait is fast, and my goal is Heaven. My road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions are few, my guide is reliable, my mission is clear! I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, divided or delayed.
I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the adversary, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity. I won't give up, shut up, or let up, until I have stayed up stored up, and paid up of the cause of Christ.
I must go till He comes, give till I drop, preach till I know, and work till He stops me.
And when He returns for His own, He will have no problem recognizing me.
My banner will be clear.

Henry B. Eyring

.

Be Still My Soul-- 5 beautiful verses

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

Be still, my soul: begin the song of praise
On earth, be leaving, to Thy Lord on high;
Acknowledge Him in all thy words and ways,
So shall He view thee with a well pleased eye.
Be still, my soul: the Sun of life divine
Through passing clouds shall but more brightly shine.

Anorexia, Anxiety, Celiac Disease

I've been doing a little research, about anorexia (and depression and anxiety, actually) being connected with celiac disease and/or gluten intolerance. I wanted to see if there was any merit in the idea. I assumed that the research stemmed from the theory that an aversion to food in general was created by negative physical responses to consuming gluten--because kids had repeated bad experiences with food (gluten) they responded by avoiding it entirely, sometimes subconsciously. I've been reading some new studies on CD, however, which indicate that biology is as much, if not more connected, as psychology when testing for connections between CD and anorexia.

One of the article titles is Regional Cerebral Hypoperfusion in Patients with Celiac Disease, American Journal of Medicine, March 1, 2004, pp. 312-317.
It stated that brain hypoperfusion ("circumcised areas of decreased tracer uptake" = lack of blood supply to the brain, from what I can tell) occurs in some patients who have an increased sensitivity to gluten. Hypoperfusion affects the frontal lobe, which increases instances of both anxiety and depression. "No blood flow abnormalities were found in the healthy control subjects. Of the 15 untreated celiac patients, 11 had at least one hypoperfused brain region...while only 1 of 15 celiac patients on a gluten-free diet had hypoperfusion...high levels of anxiety were common in the untreated celiac patients (11/15)... depression was more common in untreated celiac patients (10/15)."

I know, it was very dense--at least for me. My mom understands it better than I do because she went to a seminar where medical doctors become certified for celiac disease diagnosis (she just went for fun, I think) and they explained these ideas more fully there.

The second article I found, in the Ailment Pharmacology Therapy, 2004 Issue 20, pp. 821-824 goes on to say that they have discovered similar blood flow alterations in the brain "in untreated patients affected by anorexia nervosa." "Untreated patients" refers to people who are positive for CD but are not on a gluten-free diet.

This article explains a little more on hyperpofusion (which it defines as, "a decreased blood supply caused by inflammation and often causing lesions on the brain surface"): Kieslich, M., Pediatrics Vol. 108 No. 2, August 2001.

The fourth article just came out in 2010 and is just astounding to me--the study found that many patients with neurological symptoms of celiac disease often had NO gastrointestinal symptoms which are generally used to identify and diagnose celiac disease. It also noted that "celiac disease... is only one aspect of a range of possible manifestations of gluten sensitivity," and goes on to say that "although neurological manifestations in patients with established celiac disease have been reported since 1966, it was not until 30 years later that, in some individuals, gluten sensitivity was shown to manifest SOLELY with neurological dysfunction." According to the article, "MOST patients with neurological manifestations of gluten sensitivity have few gastrointestinal symptoms." Oh, that article was Lancet Neurol 2010; 9: pp. 318-30

I didn't surprise me to read that the recommended treatment, along with the GF diet change, is increased omega 3 and megadoses of vitamin D, along with colostrum to improve the intestinal health.

If you want to pull these articles up in their entirety, all medical journal articles are available on pubmed.org. The site only offers an abstract of medical articles--you can read and get the articles printed for free from any public library. Otherwise it's a $30 fee for each article (spendy!).


The best news is that if you do think this could be an issue (or a help for a solution! best way to think about it), a "spit test" is coming out soon for gluten-sensitivity. I could explain it forever, but basically it's the most accurate AND inexpensive, simple test which has ever been available to test for celiac disease or gluten-sensitivity. It will be out by the end of the summer (the end of August, I guess?), which is wonderful news--the old methods (blood test, stool test, biopsies) were expensive and extremely inaccurate.

Toaster Tales

"We seriously need to invest in a toaster," my roommate yawned dispiritedly as she stooped over, clutching her bathrobe around her, watching her bread toast through the oven window.

"HA!" I shouted as I jabbed a spatula into her side, rendering her considerably more awake. "We should invest in some rat poison! And we could sprinkle it over the counters at night just for fun!"

OK, not really. But when you're worried about the slightest, microscopic contamination from your makeup and last year's rolling pin, the introduction of a hulking, seething mass of malice oozing poisonous crumbs all over your counter and into the cupboards is somehow not met with shouts of joy.

How can we contain the beast when our roommates, significant others, family, assassins-in-disguise have brought it into the household?

Step One: Put it on its own counter.
Step Two: Nightly, build a wall of canned goods around it.
Step Three: Construct a scare-toaster (an upside down broom will do; toasters aren't too smart) to keep it from oozing contaminants when you're not in the kitchen watching it.
Step Four: Turn the knobs all the time (use gloves!). If you're lucky, your roommates/significant others/would-be-assassins will become so disgusted with its inconsistent performance that they will allow you to throw it out... the window.


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Elder Ballard, Mothers and Daughters

A few short excerpts:

Sisters, we, your brethren, cannot do what you were divinely designated to do from before the foundation of the world. We may try, but we cannot ever hope to replicate your unique gifts. There is nothing in this world as personal, as nurturing, or as life changing as the influence of a righteous woman.
...
Immodest, immoral, intemperate women jam the airwaves, monopolize magazines, and slink across movie screens—all while being celebrated by the world.
...
Popular culture today often makes women look silly, inconsequential, mindless, and powerless. It objectifies them and disrespects them and then suggests that they are able to leave their mark on mankind only by seduction—easily the most pervasively dangerous message the adversary sends to women about themselves.
...
In recent years there has been a rash of articles, books, and films written about women and girls who gossip and who are “mean.” Satan is always attempting to undermine the most precious element of a woman’s divine nature—the nature to nurture.
...
For example, they need to understand that when they wear clothing that is too tight, too short, or too low cut, they not only can send the wrong message to young men with whom they associate, but they also perpetuate in their own minds the fallacy that a woman’s value is dependent solely upon her sensual appeal. This never has been nor will it ever be within the righteous definition of a faithful daughter of God. They need to hear this—clearly and repeatedly—from your lips, and they need to see it modeled correctly and consistently in your own personal standards of dress, grooming, and modest living.
...
I conclude my counsel with this prophetic summary from President Joseph F. Smith: “Our [family] associations are not exclusively intended for this life, for time, as we distinguish it from eternity. We live for time and for eternity. We form associations and relations for time and all eternity. … Who are there besides the Latter-day Saints who contemplate the thought that beyond the grave we will continue in the family organization? the father, the mother, the children recognizing each other … ? this family organization being a unit in the great and perfect organization of God’s work, and all destined to continue throughout time and eternity?” (Teachings: Joseph F. Smith, 385, 386).

Humbled...

...let me tell you a little story about pride. I just sat down in the JSB reading room, feeling pretty comfortable and pleased with my time-management duties. I'd already had an hour-long scripture study in the Old Testament, exercised for another hour, made chicken pesto, watched devotional and taught econ that morning, and it was only 1:30! I had just enough time to finish reading that Isaiah assignment before my two o'clock class--but was suddenly jolted from my happy musings as I opened my laptop. See, I had forgotten that I had exercised to the melodies on my LAPTOP this morning--cranked as loud as the computer gets-- and "KEEEEEEP HOLDING OOOOOOOON" blared on for all the instantly-miffed studious students who HAD been enjoying the quiet. Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out how to get it to turn off, either, as the "mute" button doesn't work until the computer boots up. Closing it was having NO EFFECT for some reason ("WE'RE GONNA MAKE IT THROUGH, MAKE IT THROUGH!!!!") and people were looking up, (of course, it was like a train full of Avril Lavigne fans had just driven through the wall), but all I could do was stare at my closed computer at a loss, with a bemused and slightly crazed smile itching up my face. (Should I sit on it?!!) What could I do but giggle as I grabbed the offending device (which was still singing: "JUUUUUUUST HOOOOLD OOOOOON") and sprinted outside?? I did tell the angry mob of students (who were now gathering their pencils while Avril blared, "THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN SAAAAAAAAY!") on my way out the door, "Hey! At least it's a good song!"

Nothing like feeling thankful every time you open your laptop and it doesn't sing to you. Woo-hoo!


.

Glenn Pace's Beautiful Speech on Womanhood

The Divine Nature 
and Destiny of Women

GLENN L. PACE

---

Glenn L. Pace was a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy
of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
when this devotional address was given on 9 March 2010.

© Intellectual Reserve, Inc. All rights reserved.

Complete volumes of Speeches are available wherever LDS books are sold.

For further information contact:
Speeches, 218 University Press Building, Provo, Utah 84602.
/ E-mail: speeches@byu.edu / Speeches Home Page

---

The Family: A Proclamation to the World” states:

All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny. Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose.¹

My focus this morning will be on the divine nature and destiny of women and the sacred role they play in the sanctification and purification of men.

I’m going to start by giving you two exclusive scoops. First, males and females are different. Second, those differences are more than physical.

I developed a love and appreciation for womanhood in my childhood. My mother, sisters, grandmas, aunts, and female cousins and friends brought immeasurable love into my young life. This set the stage for the adult relationships with my wife, daughters, and granddaughters.

All of the above have contributed to my feelings of reverence, adoration, and even veneration of righteous women.

In pondering the effect women have had on my life, I have concluded that there has been a metamorphosis of my spirit that could not have taken place without these relationships.

Of course, the first woman in my life was my mother. How can I describe the impact of my mother’s love? A lullaby, being tucked in bed, are you warm enough, a kiss goodnight, Glenn, you’d better get up, you don’t want to be late for school, a kiss good morning, you are such a special boy, oh honey, how I love you, I made some chocolate chip cookies, I want to take your picture, I’m so proud of you, I know you can do it, are you going to go on a mission, you are going to go on a mission, I miss you so much, frequent love notes, let’s go look at the roses, did you see the full moon, aren’t the mountains beautiful today, the love in her eyes, her touch, her smell, her elegance, her tender heart, her sensitivity, her femininity.

That was just a blink in a lifetime of nurturing.

In addition to the loving care I received from my mother, I received similar nurturing from my big sister, who was my mentor and protector.

When I was old enough to enter kindergarten, I was worried sick. I had watched my sister do her homework and was concerned by the fact that I didn’t know how to read or do arithmetic. The night before school started, my apprehension must have shown, because she came into the bedroom and started talking to me about school. I explained my concerns, and she immediately began to allay my fears. She told me about recess. I could handle that. Then she explained that I would be taught to read one word at a time, and she assured me that I was smart and wouldn’t have any trouble.

Now, how would a brother handle a situation like that?

“Wow, you’re in big trouble! You may never graduate from kindergarten. But I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. If you will give me your allowance, I’ll help you.”

As I mentioned earlier, men and women are different.

My appreciation for women rose to a whole new dimension when our two daughters came into our lives. There is something angelic about daughters—at least in the eyes of their father.

I have sometimes lamented that I wasn’t born with the perspective daughters brought into my life. If a man could be born with that insight, his respect for and treatment of a young woman during his dating years would improve significantly.

I remember a time when my oldest daughter was just six or seven years old. I was struggling with saying my personal prayers on a consistent basis. I remember walking into her bedroom one night to listen to her say her prayers. Her room felt so peaceful, innocent, and pure that I felt like praying. I explained as best I could that I’d like to get into the habit of saying my prayers and asked if I could pray at her bedside. She looked a little puzzled but agreed. On the second or third night, as I began my silent prayer, I felt her little hand on my head. She then turned on her side and with both hands began running her fingers through my hair. I felt touched by an angel. I must admit, it felt so good that my prayers became longer.

To this day, whenever there is a family gathering, I will eventually work my way over to the couch or chair where she is located, sit on the floor, and wait for her to run her fingers through my hair.

From the time my second daughter was a baby through her early grade-school years, I would rock her to sleep at night and carry her to bed. I always knew when she was asleep because tiny beads of perspiration would appear on her little nose. I would look at her angelic face and wonder if heaven could feel any better than this.

I concluded it must be a great comfort to her to fall asleep in her father’s arms. Now I realize the peace and comfort she transmitted to me was possibly even greater.

I have always been impressed with the love and respect our Savior bestowed upon the women in His life. As we read about these associations, our focus is generally on what He taught them and the love and understanding He gave them. Have you ever considered the possibility that these women provided immense comfort to His burdened soul? It is my belief that He needed them as He journeyed toward living a perfect life so He could provide the ultimate sacrifice.

I repeat that my associations and interplay with the righteous women in my life have created a metamorphosis of my spirit and have been purifying and sanctifying.

I’d now like to turn to the more intimate relationship of husband and wife and the impact that relationship has on our exaltation.

You are all familiar with the story of the Creation. I’m going to pick up the account where Adam was placed on the earth. Please pay particular attention to the sequence of events leading up to the introduction of Eve.

And the Gods formed man from the dust of the ground, and took his spirit (that is, the man’s spirit), and put it into him; and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul.

And the Gods planted a garden, eastward in Eden, and there they put the man, whose spirit they had put into the body which they had formed.

And out of the ground made the Gods to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food; the tree of life, also, in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil. [Abraham 5:7–9]

Thus far there is no mention of Eve.

And out of the ground I, the Lord God, formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and commanded that they should come unto Adam, to see what he would call them; and they were also living souls; for I, God, breathed into them the breath of life, and commanded that whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that should be the name thereof.

And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field; but as for Adam, there was not found an help meet for him. [Moses 3:19–20]

In summary, before Eve appeared, the world had been created, Adam had been placed in the Garden of Eden, and he had named and associated with all of the animals. He was enjoying a utopia in physical surroundings as well as open communication with God. What more could he ask for? What more could he need?

As President J. Reuben Clark put it:

Adam wandered alone in the glorious Garden in Eden, which he had dressed and adorned—the Garden of Eden with its stately trees, its lovely flowers heavy with sweet odors, its grassy swards, its magnificent vistas with the far reaches of its placid rivers, with its gaily plumed birds, its lordly and graceful beasts, all at peace, for sin was not yet in the world. Through all this magnificence Adam wandered, lonely, unsolaced, uncompanioned, the only being of his kind in the whole world, his life unshared in a solitude of exquisite elegance, and, what was of far greater moment, his mission, as he knew it to be, impossible of fulfillment, except the Father gave him an helpmeet.²

I’d like to share a perspective from John Milton’s Paradise Lost that fully resonates with my soul.

Much like President Clark, Milton describes the beauty of the Garden and the variety of animals. However, he goes into more detail on his perception of Adam’s frustration and loneliness. In his account, Adam watches the interplay between the animals and communicates with them as best he can. However, Adam concludes something is drastically amiss. Milton wrote:

They rejoice
Each with their kind, lion with lioness;
So fitly them in pairs thou hast combin’d;
Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl
So well converse, nor with the ox the ape;
Worse then can man with beast, and least of all.³

In other words, Adam is saying, “What’s wrong with this picture?”

Milton goes on to suggest that God delayed the introduction of Eve until Adam could fully appreciate her. Seeing that Adam is now ready for the introduction of Eve, God describes what is going to happen next. I love Milton’s description of what Eve would mean to Adam:

What next I bring shall please thee, be assur’d,
Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self,
Thy wish exactly to thy heart’s desire.⁴

“Thy fit help”? No, this doesn’t mean she would be in good shape. It means she would be a match, a complement, a counterpart, even his “other self.”

Finally, Eve stood before him, and she exceeded his highest expectations. He had never seen anything like her in the garden. Milton continues:

Under his forming hands a creature grew,
Manlike, but different sex, so lovely fair,
That what seem’d fair in all the world, seem’d now
Mean, or in her summ’d up, in her contain’d,
And in her looks, which from that time infus’d
Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before.⁵

I hope Milton will forgive me for adding my opinion that the “sweetness” Adam felt, which was “unfelt before,” was much more than that which was generated by Eve’s physical appearance. Those feelings flowing into him had as their source her wellspring. His feelings were the direct result of standing in front of one of the daughters of heavenly parents who had a divine nature different from, but complementary to, his own divine nature.

I believe the Father’s statement “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Genesis 2:18) had a much more profound meaning than the obvious biological implications. It also went further than providing Adam with “company.” Adam’s ability to obtain the purification necessary to get back into the presence of God was dependent upon his continuous association with Eve.

Remember what Adam said when Eve stood beside him for the first time: “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife, and they shall be one flesh” (Abraham 5:18).

Many years after the creation of Adam and Eve, Paul said, “Nevertheless neither is the man without the woman, neither the woman without the man, in the Lord” (1 Corinthians 11:11).

In the Doctrine and Covenants we read:

In the celestial glory there are three heavens or degrees;

And in order to obtain the highest, a man must enter into this order of the priesthood [meaning the new and everlasting covenant of marriage];

And if he does not, he cannot obtain it. [D&C 131:1–3]

Why can’t he obtain it? It’s not just because he didn’t obey a celestial commandment. It’s because he didn’t become a celestial being. There is a limit to our spiritual development as long as we are single. There is a spiritual development that can only be obtained when a man and a woman join their incomplete selves into a complete couple. Just as conception requires the physical union of male and female, perfection requires the union of the very souls of male and female.

Elder Richard G. Scott has said:

In the Lord’s plan, it takes two—a man and a woman—to form a whole. Indeed, a husband and wife are not two identical halves, but a wondrous, divinely determined combination of complementary capacities and characteristics.⁶

Men and women can accomplish marvelous things alone. However, they are incomplete until united intellectually, emotionally, physically, and, most important, spiritually.

The world we live in has gone awry with its focus on the physical part of the male and female relationship. If there is too much focus on the physical, the vital areas of intellectual, emotional, and spiritual union are not being placed in an environment where they can flourish and grow. Our current society is so obsessed with “making love” that they are not developing a complete relationship that would enable them to “express love.”

Since melding our divine natures is a necessary element in bringing about perfection, we must guard against any deterioration of those natures. Sisters, keep in mind anything that detracts from your divine nature should be avoided. You live in a time when you have more opportunities and options available to you than any other women have had throughout the history of mankind. Some of these options will complement your God-given natures. Others will chip away at it. Some things will make you strong. Others will make you hard. Some will increase your spiritual sensitivity. Others will separate you from the Spirit.

If the world keeps chipping away at the divine nature of women, it is probable that our relationships in marriage will not bring about the sanctification necessary for exaltation or, as a minimum, the process will be delayed.

I express my love and appreciation to my wife. She is an example of one who has retained her eternal nature through 47 years of marriage, six children, 29 grandchildren, and putting up with me.

Wearing that eternal nature well, she has supported me as a General Authority for 25 years. I could not have served nor would I have been qualified to serve without her love and support. She has been the crucial key to the metamorphosis I desperately needed to become worthy and able to serve.

Her eternal nature and destiny was never clearer to me than at the temple marriage of our youngest son. I have had the sacred honor of performing the temple marriages of all six of our children, and they along with their spouses were worthy to be in attendance on this occasion.

Prior to the ceremony as I spoke of sacred things, I looked at my wife, who was seated next to our son. My spiritual eyes were opened, and I saw her shining in all of her glory as she basked in the warmth of having joy and rejoicing in her posterity. She was radiant. I saw before me a priestess, queen, and goddess. There is absolutely nothing the world can offer that could come close to the fulfillment she was feeling. There was no accomplishment in the world she could have attained that would have made me love her more or be more proud of her efforts. Her eternal nature was then and is now still intact.

We commonly hear the phrase “Men have the priesthood and women have been given the blessing of procreation.” Without perfection, neither assignment meets the full measure of its creation. After perfection comes the ultimate role of god or goddess. These are eternal roles in which one continues to complement the other throughout all eternity.

It is the marriage ceremony in the temple in which husband and wife receive the power to perfect their relationship and, thereby, obtain their exaltation.

Elder John A. Widtsoe put it this way:

Modern revelation sets forth the high destiny of those who are sealed for everlasting companionship. They will be given opportunity for a greater use of their powers. That means progress. They will attain more readily to their place in the presence of the Lord; they will increase more rapidly in every divine power; they will approach more nearly to the likeness of God; they will more completely realize their divine destiny. And this progress is not delayed until life after death. It begins here, today, for those who yield obedience to the law.⁷

I emphasize that the power coming down from heaven on those married in the temple by the holy priesthood cannot alone bring about the progress mentioned by Elder Widtsoe. It takes the righteous interplay of male and female.

I like the Quaker proverb “Thee lift me and I’ll lift thee and we’ll both ascend together.”⁸

What will happen when we finally “ascend together”? I can put it no better than did one of the great women in our history, Eliza R. Snow, who said:

When I leave this frail existence,
When I lay this mortal by,
Father, Mother, may I meet you
In your royal courts on high?
Then, at length, when I’ve completed
All you sent me forth to do,
With your mutual approbation
Let me come and dwell with you.⁹

Sisters, I testify that when you stand in front of your heavenly parents in those royal courts on high and look into Her eyes and behold Her countenance, any question you ever had about the role of women in the kingdom will evaporate into the rich celestial air, because at that moment you will see standing directly in front of you, your divine nature and destiny. I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Notes

1. “The Family: A Proclamation to the World,” Ensign, November 1995, 102.

2. J. Reuben Clark: Selected Papers: On Religion, Education, and Youth, ed. David H. Yarn, Jr. (Provo: Brigham Young University Press, 1984), 59–60.

3. John Milton, Paradise Lost (1667), ed. David Hawkes (New York: Barnes & Noble Classics, 2004), 249; book VIII, lines 392–97.

4. Milton, Paradise, 251; book VIII, lines 449–51.

5. Milton, Paradise, 253; book VIII, lines 470–75.

6. “The Joy of Living the Great Plan of Happiness,” Ensign, November 1996, 73–74.

7. John A. Widtsoe, Evidences and Reconciliations (Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1960), 300.

8. See John Townsend Trowbridge, A Story of the “Barefoot Boy” (1877):

If thee’ll lift me while I lift thee,

We shall go up together!

9. “O My Father,” Hymns, 1985, no. 292, verse 4; text by Eliza R. Snow.

Falling for my English Major

This poem started out in a different way; it was originally meant to be a 6-month dating anniversary and one-year meeting anniversary present for my English-major honey. We had a class together winter 2009, and our first conversation basically consisted of my challenging his choice of major--a major to which I myself was converted by spring of the same year.
Anway--I was pleasantly surprised with these skewed results.




Falling for My English Major


I was minding my own business, really,

“What will you do with an English degree?”

Daddy’s little parrot.

And yet I was falling fast—not for his serious green eyes

and curious half laugh,

or even his memory for Robert Frost’s rhyme,

But for (even) older men:

Arsenic-tongued Edgar Allen and dear William’s dreary drawls,

Joseph’s tortured rhetoric (through his beautifully thick accent).

Spring is the season of lovers, they say,

And I met Robert and Lord Alfred,

Walt and Henry David, Mark (my Sammy) and Charley D.

I was reacquainted with Willy’s wonderful wit and wisdom,

but breathed last at John, dearest, sightless John,

who saw more than I had ever glimpsed:

I had never loved before.

And of course Clive and John Ronny Reuel

Already held my heart, happy imprisonment—

I was dr

opping, plu

mmeting, head-over-he

els and toes-over-nose,



My parents were worried, my peace of mind shattered—

Every thought, every breath, every tingling touch of thick, creamy paper

was a blessing—and a curse—and I found myself, me!

cursing and crying and thanking the stars at 2 am,

reading those last few, blurred words through salty adoration.

It could not be ignored.



“I’m yours,”



I whispered to the green form which promised all my dreams a reality.


“What?” the English major counselor squawked,

“Sorry,” I said, and signed.




key for non english majors: edgar allen poe, william faulkner, joseph conrad, robert browning, alfred lord tennyson, walt whitman, henry david thoreau, mark twain (samuel clemens), charles dickens, william shakespeare, John Milton, C. S. lewis and J. r.r. tolkien.


.

GF Ninja

The group around me ambles into the dimly-lit, richly-furnished room without a second thought—but I am immediately on guard.

I am ever vigilant, utilizing all senses to take in every detail:

busy, uniformed staff (whose smiles I meet with a steely glare),

savory smells (which I resist instinctively, habit honed by fatal experience),

seemingly immaculate tables (I check for crumb residue),

friendly voices and laughter (which will be silenced in a moment)…

I am a gluten-free ninja.

Walking into a restaurant with celiac disease is like traversing a mine field while riding an elephant. Hidden dangers beset the GF diner at every turn, and the menacing scene is made even more dangerous by the ignorant deception perpetuated by inexperienced cooks, chefs, waiters and waitresses, hosts, bus boys and even fellow diners.

“How about this place? It looks good,” my blind date, dinner group, girl’s-night-out-posse, boss or extended family member asks naively.

HA! I squelch a shout of laughter and my instinctive “good if you like pain” reply.

Even the bland exterior screams danger:

Ø no GF logo on the front window (the UK's universal wheat-free signal),

Ø popular, neon-lit logo above the door (indicative of a malicious chain restaurant),

Ø music with an accordion (turn and run!),

Ø a name that has any word that reminds you of your piano classes (forte, piano, bravo, ---isimo)

Ø a waiting line (sure sign of harried waiters).

Unfortunately, even when I go to dinner with supposedly experienced buddies—life-long friends, family members, beloved boyfriend—I sometimes get stuck with a perilous restaurant choice. When dining out, I have to get creative, crafty, observant, diplomatic, and even sneaky. I’m on a mission to eat.

This (terrifying) trip, the oblivious (but adorable) boyfriend wanders off while I’m still marking a perimeter around our table, checking the salt shaker for crumbs and scrutinizing sauce labels.

He returns with 'secret intelligences',

"Dia? Oh, there you are, under the tablecloth. Hey, guess what, I already asked them what foods have flour. They said you can have pretty much the whole menu and the whole buffet! Isn't that great?"

I lose my ninja cool for just a moment, smacking my head with my hand (not his head—I resisted) as I rolled my eyes (these actions not recommended simultaneously if a ninja wishes to retain single vision acuity).

Well, even Jackie Chan gets stuck with the dumb blond sometimes.

"Ssssssshhhhh!" I hiss. "Get low, and be quiet.”

It’s too late—he’s already blown my cover.

Our waitress bustles over, offering menus and appetizers all around. She’s either brave, masochistic or cruel to agree to come to our table, as she’s been pre-warned (and dealing with the cross-examination of a gluten-free ninja is hardly for the faint-hearted). I resist the depression urges which are served alongside the fluffy white dinner rolls (and the sneaking desire to start flinging them, shuriken style, at our fellow diners enjoying seven-layer lasagna or garlic bread), and look for the least dangerous thing on the menu as I try to convert the waitress to my side.

“Gluten. No, not glucose. No, not just in bread—it’s in white bread too, yes.”

The menu is a breeding ground of malevolent meal choices. Obvious traps, of course, include the sandwiches, rolls, wraps and croutons and cake, cookies and brownie options, but more subtle evils lurk quietly between the lines. Breading, seasonings and sauces strike without warning, and cross-contamination while cooking is a constant threat (only truly avoided when the waitress is also your significant other or mother).

After I’ve begged, bullied, bribed and beseeched our waitress for gluten-free options, she goes to “ask the chef” (coffee/smoke/look-up-glucose-on-Wikipedia break). As soon as she leaves, I commence cross-examination with every staff member in the area, take a mental survey of other diners’ plates and their possible gluten-free options, and undertake part four of the “Dessert Storm” plan beta. I check for nutritional information behind the front desk and then on my laptop online. I write a detailed list of menu items in order of increasing risk and potential hidden hazards. I remind myself that a gluten-free ninja is always prepared with travel snacks in her purse, so I will not starve.

Finally I get to order, off the (surprise!!) gluten-free menu! I can’t complain: when my grilled, stuffed chicken breast (“ask for no stuffing, dressing, breading, sauce, rice, beans, vegetables, chips or seasoning”) and loaded baked potato (“ask for no topping”) finally come, I chew through them with all the gusto of a soldier downing his hundredth M.R.E.. A ninja never complains, however, and I am honestly just relieved to be eating something that seems safe—although CONSTANT VIGILANCE is, of course, still necessary (as is evident when she hands me a packet of oyster crackers… Thanks, lady, that puts me at ease).

At the end of the meal, I order a delectable dessert (“ask for no brownie, no sauce, no cookie-dough, no happiness, no enjoyment and no hope”) consisting of a single mint leaf on a plate and sit back to watch my date finish his dinner, having escaped successfully from mortal danger (until the after dinner mint at the front desk on our way out).

When he finishes, he sits back too, and looks at me contentedly—offering a truly perfect conclusion to the meal:

“Wasn’t that relaxing? I love a meal away from the kitchen. Check please!”

Reality Check:

To make sure you have a fun (if not calm) experience as a GF ninja at restaurants, eat before, know your allergens, bring a good attitude and your own condiments and have the diplomacy skills of a UN delegate.

Defense of Anniversaries

Though it may seem quite silly

to write a short ditty

on the merits of anniversAries,

there's a serious purpose

to this eye-rolling circus--

yes, I know some think quite the contrary.

Most boys just don't get it

why that one day should merit

such ridiculous hype and elation,

but a gal has her reasons!

and when her guy can't sees-ems,

she'll expound without (much) altercation.

It's that special day's advent

which reminds us we may'nt

treat our sweethearts or lovers like old news,

Yes, we should do without it--

but as all will soon admit,

Daily life only teaches to abuse.

All high-minded ambition

tossed aside as tuition

or rent, food and diapers pile higher,

And before we turn 'round,

we'll find that we've drowned

in quotidian--put out the fire.

In short: the perfect advance

of a practical romance

is a reminder that we really care,

So try to remember

that-some-day in... December?

Just think of it, men, as a dare.

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Couldn't-Be-Easier GF Truffles

Melt together:
Half a jar of peanut butter
A bag of chocolate chips

Stir in a container of whipped cream.
Let it set in the fridge for three hours.

Scoop out of the mixture with a melon ball thing.
Roll the balls in powdered sugar and place on wax paper.

Stick the tray back in the fridge.

That's all, folks!

Restaurant in Denver!

Tokyo Joe's is a fast, healthy restaurant with a neat envirornment and very knowledgable, friendly service. The food is fine; not for those who like Americanized Chinese, as it is very lean and green. Menu includes "make your own bowl" with rice, meat and veggie choices, lettuce wraps and various other usual Chinese fare.

It is also VERY gluten-free friendly; they offer GF soy sauce AND teriaki sauce and even offered to cook my tofu separately to keep it wheat-free.

I can't TELL you how exciting it is to get to eat a sauce on something when going out to eat! YAY!

Identification, Please

Cami and Tasha dropped me off at the airport on Friday morning reaaa--aaaally early. I rather worriedly handed them the keys to Bertha ("Road trip! road trip!" Tasha was singing under her breath as she offered a guileless smile and "Have fun!") and made my way into the deserted airport.

Seriously, I was pretty much THE ONLY PERSON THERE. I weaved my way through the security tape feeling pretty stupid because there was NO ONE in line. I considered the technique Shrek employed when walking up to Prince Farquad's castle (through the tape, instead of around)--but the security guard was already giving me the evil eye.

I offered him my best smile and toss of the blond curls as I handed him my ticket and driver's license. He was not amused.

"Is your name Diondra or Dia?"
"Ohhh, Dia is my nickname!" I giggled back.

"Well, your ticket here says Dia Darcey on it, so you're going to have to produce some ID that HAS that name on it, or I can't let you on the flight."
"Uh....huh?" I tried the hair toss again.
He was stone. "Not gonna cut it, honey."

Dang, I gotta think fast! None of my IDs have DIA on them; it's practically a made up name!! However, Mrs. Sabey, the generous purchaser of my ticket, had unknowingly put my pseudonym down in my flight information, so now I was stuck.

"Well, handsome, let me see what I have here," I said with a slow wink as I opened my purse and stared into it in a blind panic.

My mind was working furiously and, as it tends to do in emergency situations, completely nonsensically: Maybe I could hit him over the head with the purse and make a break for it! No, a better plan would be to loudly require my legal counsel. Or try to convince him I don't speak English--Ooo, wait, that I'm a long lost LOVER who doesn't speak English! OK, um, fake a heart attack! Warn of an impending stampede!

Just when I was on the brink of a breakthrough ("I know! Confuse him with a tap dance routine!") my eye fell upon salvation: my BYU ID!! Goodness knows why I decided to bring it to Colorado or why I put my name on it as DIA in the first place, but praise be! There it was, and I pulled it out with a screech of pure victory, "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!"

The security guard dropped his keys.

"Ooops, sorry," I practically yelled, still exulting, "but I FOUND ONE!" I slapped it on his security stand with all the triumph I could muster.

He looked it over carefully.
And his steely eyes shifted back up to mine.

"I need another one."

My jaw hit the floor; no, no. Surely not. ANOTHER ONE?!

I tried one last act of diplomacy and laughed gently, "Wait, seriously. You need another ID BESIDES this one-- this one, which says my name on it AND has a matching picture?" I formed a contented smile onto my face and attempted to breath normally.

"...Yup, if the names are different, I have to confirm with two IDs, not just one."

That's it. I was DONE with the "pretty, naive, possibly-Scandinavian traveling girl" charade.

This was war.

We faced each other, still the only two souls in the whole airport atrium.
A tumbleweed blew past and I swear I could hear a faint echo of the theme from "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" from some forgotten airport speaker.
I stared into his dark, emotionless eyes and felt for the comforting, cold metal of my wallet (my wallet really is metal, you guys).

His eyebrow twitched.

I drew, faster than the eye can follow, and twitched my wallet open with a thumb. I scanned the names on my cards as they flew by like the jet plane I should've been on: Oklahoma Central Credit Union: Diondra Elizabeth Darcey--Healthcare: Diondra E Darcey--Insurance: Darcey, Diondra--Random Walmart giftcard--Summit County Library: scrawled signature--Red Cross: Diondra E Darcey------wait.
Miss Dia Darcey.

I read it, then read it again, "Miss Dia Darcey... MISS DIA DARCEY?!?!"

VICTORY! I threw the card--the blessed card which had saved me many times before in moments of transportation terror--onto the vanquished security guard's crumpled form and pumped my arms in the air with a howl of animal abandon:

"THANK YOU, TRIPLE A!"

I did have one parting word for my defeated foe, which I offered as I picked up my duffel bag and tossed my hair back over my shoulders, "In this world, there are two types of people, my friend..." I continued Clint's timeless quote as I stepped forward onto the security platform and tossed my bags into the X-ray machine:

"Those with loaded guns, and those who dig."

Unfortunately, THOSE security people took me seriously ("GUN? WHERE?! CODE RED!!!")...



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O'er the Land of Fat-Free?

Dia Darcey
Dr. Holland
Sociology 112
16 November 2009

Don't take this too seriously, kids; it was a quick opinion essay for a class.


The facts are clear: America is getting wider, and not from sea to shining sea. More Americans are overweight than ever before—a whopping two of three adults and almost one of three children. Overweight people are more likely to suffer from high blood pressure, heart disease, diabetes, high cholesterol and debilitating stress on joints and bones; the condition is definitely no walk in the park.

The obvious, looming question about obesity in America is why. Can we point the finger of blame at the school system for only providing sugary soft drinks and cheesy fried snacks for lunch? Can we malign the government for neglecting to inform us of health risks before it was too late? Or can we only hang our heads in shame, muttering that it must be a late offshoot of McManifest Destiny (now bigger than ever!) and we, like our great-great-great-grandparents, are just trying to increase America’s magnitude? Such a huge problem could never have stemmed from one origin, and it is ignorant to blame a single factor (like fast food) for these shocking statistics. Also, it is impossible to blame only the individual for their obesity because we are so affected by the society around us—and the occurrence of obesity is higher in African-American and Hispanic populations, which would imply that they have less self control than Caucasians or Asians. Several of the most basic causes of the rapid, recent increase in the occurrence of obesity in America are the breakdown of family structure and a general and increasing ignorance of nutrition and biology, exacerbated by a healthy capitalist economy.

The family structure provides innumerable benefits to individuals and society; many of these benefits relate to weight management. Close families spend time together playing—and it’s awfully hard to get an entire family onto a computer. Outside activities and play have decreased exponentially in the lives of children, perhaps because their parents simply don’t have time to encourage creative and active play. Eating together as a family reduces the calories which would be consumed by each member eating individually, especially if the meal is home-made and includes plenty of vegetables and fruits. Family relations also provide needed education to children about healthy eating habits.

The general ignorance of and apathy toward essential nutrition facts has worsened in recent years which has aided the media and food companies in making a couple bucks while everyone gets a little rounder. Even the calorie is not understood by five out of six roommates at Regency #309, and surely the statistics aren’t much better for the rest of America. The “big, bad” media and food companies cannot be blamed for making food cheaper and more attractive—that’s what the competition of capitalism encourages, usually providing us with excellent results—even if they use high fructose corn syrup and celebrity promos to do it. The problem results when these two circumstances combine and ignorant consumers cook Hamburger Helper for a “healthy” family meal or provide “low-cal” (but high everything else) soda for refreshment.

Whether the obesity problem busting America’s Bible Belt and clogging up the Continental Divide lays with society or the individual or, most likely, some combination of the two, it is ballooning to ridiculous proportions. As the occurrence of obesity has increased, the average life expectancy for an American citizen has turned begun to decrease. Only a return to the close relationships of the family and a revolution in nutritional education could even begin to contain this epidemic which is truly affecting everyone in the home of the broad.

Little Girl Dreaming

In morning musings, I’ve agency:
And when my mind runs wild
I can remind it,
Gently, Chiding,
And lead it as I would a child
To things at hand, back
To book or stove or
even prayer,
My hand is patient, waiting kindly,
but firm, as
My little-girl thoughts hang back;
She is rambunctious—as children should be—
But comes when I ask.

In afternoon and ev’n, too
I am mistress of my mind and
Would I were a harder mistress!
Sometimes the child skips outside
Without a hand to stop her—and I must take a run
With her round the yard, falling in a heap at the end in a tangle of limbs, laughing
Before returning
Brushing off smells of the cold and grass
To order, reason, older things.

But nighttime thoughts are hers
And she spends them outside: joyous liberty.
Why?! The now freed child
Can run, rampant, rollicking,
Without reproach
Or reminder
To focus on the task here, now.
And it is beautiful to watch her run.

I’m thankful she stays—well-train’ed dear—
Within the bounds of my picket fence
I’ve built so carefully
At the edges of even unconscious thought.
But I still wake, not shameful,
Exasperated!
For the child is far from satiated from her joyous night of rambling—
No, she wants to explore anew!
And I, woman, must choose to tug her gently
Back into the ordered house.
Though she is pleading and pretty and persuades
So invitingly.

Sew Cute II

These aprons are pretty much the most adorable thing ever--and REVERSIBLE.
Mom and I made them this summer (because... we can't just have a normal vacation??).



We also made:
This . Took. Forever. There's actually still a lot of hand-stitching I have to finish on it...

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Alyssa and Dia's Totally Random, Entirely Exhausting and In All Ways Awesome Saturday

------------------------------------------------------------

Alyssa and Dia's
Totally Random, Entirely Exhausting and In All Ways Awesome
Saturday

The day began with the by-some-dreaded and by-one-(Dia)-adored cleaning checks.
We scraped, mopped, wiped and pine-sol'd from six thirty am right until the fearful check--only to watch the manager open the door, walk to the back of the apartment, turn, open the fridge, and walk right back out the front door as she mumbled, "Looks good, you passed."
"WHAT?!" hollered Alyssa, hands chapped from hours of scrubbing within the unchecked dishwasher, freezer and cupboards.
"THAT'S SO DUMB!" agreed Ashley, who had spent at least thirty minutes sucking fumes in the ill-ventilated shower whilst cleaning.
"At least our apartment's clean!" chirped Dia happily. "I LOVE cleaning checks!"

After everyone finished beating on Dia, Alyssa and the aforementioned scapegoat got in the car and raced to Wal-mart. Unfortunately, aformentioned scapegoat forgot to bring in her cell phone (big surprise), and Alyssa was unable to reach and or find her when she was done shopping. While Alyssa contemplated asking a cashier to broadcast a message (again ...this HAS happened before), "Dia Darcey, please meet your mommy at the front of the store. Dia Darcey, please meet your mommy at the front," Dia was ogling over the prices of watches.
Although she did eventually find one that would work for timing runs (at least, would work better than Dia's previous method of timing runs: glancing at the oven clock before leaving and then trying to subtract minutes when she got back--which method often resulted in such exciting and ridiculous moments as, "Wow! I just ran a mile and a half in FOUR MINUTES! Wait... carry the two, subtract the three... I mean fourteen minutes.").


After Dia and Alyssa were finally reunited (and it feels so good), Dia dropped Alyssa off at home and drove to Hebrew choir, which is an odd enough experience when there are more than three singers. As the attendance was frighteningly low, Dia somehow was asked and subsequently (in a fit of insanity) agreed to sing a solo for the celebration of Yon Kippur the following day (in less than 30 hours) (in front of all the Hebrew students at BYU) (... in Hebrew).

V'al kulom eloha s'lihos
s'lah lonu m'hal lonu kaper lonu
O Lord of forgiveness, forgive us for all our sins.


At this point, Alyssa was back home, in shock herself--she'd received two MORE letters from missionaries, which made FOUR in TWO DAYS. She was thus newly christened,
"The Distraction."

Meanwhile (back on the farm--I mean, back in the car), Dia was having distractions of her own. In the middle of exulting over the low prices of fruit at Buy Low ("Five BUCKS?! For half my body weight in MELON?! So aweso --" CRUNCH), she backed into another car. She parked and got out of the car already apologizing--for no need!
The cars (well, the OTHER car, at least) looked fine, but even crazier, the lady wasn't angry. Not only "not angry," but she was happy!!

"Oh, HI! Hey, it's no big deal, this happens just by accident all the time!! I didn't see you, and you didn't see me, and you know cars just pull out so quick you can't see, and this car's 12 years old now so as long as it passes inspection I don't even mind a few bumps and bruises! Let me tell you about the time I got THIS scratch on it when I backed up into my son's pickup truck..."

She actually offered the stunned collegiate blond a hug at the end of the conversation and left with a joyful benediction of "Go Cougars!"


Dia returned home, still "well"-shocked, and found Alyssa up to the wrists in a deep blue liquid. She was dying shirts for her soccer team--an honest and harmless enough endeavor, when not paired with two such devious, creative and thrifty young ladies!!
There was so much leftover dye...

we probably could've dyed the kitchen floor blue if we'd thought of it in time. As it was, we dyed (or tried to dye): fifteen shirts, a white bathroom rug, Dia's tennis shoes, Alyssa's hands, an extra towel, Jasmyn's failed tie-dye shirt, a couple locks of blond hair and pretty much anything else that would hold still. If we owned a Pomeranian...

After our dyeing adventures, we headed to the BYU football game (properly attired with stained hands and hair).


The heat was unendurable (but we... endured...?) but we doggedly clapped and cheered, rose and shouted our Cougars on until halftime. At exactly 5:45, we rose righteously from our bleacher bench to make our way to the Marriott Center, as the Relief Society Broadcast was showing at 6. Though we left a bit half-heartedly, we knew we were doing the right thing as Relief Society sisters and, as we left the stadium, refused the temptation of an re-entrance-stamp. "No," we cried, "We're going to go watch the Relief Society Broadcast! Do not try to shift us from the iron rod! We will be unshaken! Stalwart! Brave! We shall not falter! We cannot be moved! True to the truth! We will spend our Saturday night in the company of the Relief Society's appointed servants! We will--(cheering from the stadium)---GO COUGARS, C'MON! RUUUUN!"
Alright, so we were a little attached to Mammon that night. But really, who schedules football during the Relief Society Broadcast? Men. That's who.

Sexism stowed and back to the story.

Imagine our dismay, our horror when we finally reached the Marriott Center to find a notice:
"The Relief Society Broadcast will not be shown at the Marriott Center. It will be showing in the -----blah----blah---some-other-buildings---- and on KBYU at 8 pm this evening."

"IT'S GOING TO BE ON TV TONIGHT? WHY AREN'T WE AT THE FOOTBALL GAME?!"

Alyssa and I dashed back to the field of victory only to find that the foregone reentrance stamps were not just for show or school spirit--you actually needed one to get back into the game.

Our righteous intentions smashed into teeny bits, we held our heads high (ish) and screamed ourselves hoarse outside for a while (we had to make sure the players could still hear us!), then realized we were on the brink of thirst-ation (not one of my favorite realizations. "Oh, it's Saturday!" or "I already finished this homework!" or even "The milk's still good ...somehow!" are all WAY better) (why isn't there a word for "death by thirst"?).

We bought waters at Citgo and concluded that Dasani was probably the best thing on Earth (and when we say, "the best thing on Earth," we mean the best) and walked to a friend's house for dinner. He'd graciously offered to cook, but when we reached his dorm, we realized there was a problem.

What do you do if your gluten-free when the cook's in the middle of making spaghetti??
You exchange alternately horrified, at-a-loss and hilarious looks with your roommate every time the cook turns around, that's what you do. Looks that mean something like,
(silently) "SPAGHETTI? What are we going to do?"
(still silently) "I don't know! Doesn't he know?"
(very silently) "I'm sure he forgot! What do I DO?"
(you get the picture) "...This is HILARIOUS!"

THEN you try to find a way to artfully slip it into the conversation, such as, "Dang, I didn't come prepared for spaghetti. Do you think I have time to dash home and grab some of mine?"
I have to say, though, the embarrassment of the cook when he realized and the awkwardness of having to bring it up were totally worth the volume of hilarity Alyssa and I exchanged without an audible word.

After the spaghetti scare was solved and we enjoyed a five-part rendition of "Brown-Eyed Girl" accompanied by ukulele and African drum by roommates of said friend, Alyssa and I realized we needed to run home-- in the dark-- across campus-- without shoes in order to make it in time for the broadcast. Well, the "without shoes" part we just decided on because it would be more fun.

The results:

After the Relief Society Broadcast, we rested our tired toes in the lovely pool--then fell into bed, finally completing our wonderful, ridiculous, all-good very fun day.


.