Ohio, like many places, has weather that can be pretty up and down during this part of the year. One day it will be warm enough to run outside without a jacket and the next you can't go out without twelve layers. So, the other day, I was in my house and I was freezing. I'm often colder than most people. (My mom says I am another Sam McGee and I will only be warm when I'm cremated.) So, I turned up the heat. But it was still quite cold. So I turned it up some more. I didn't hear the tell-tale sign of the heater turning on, so I feared the pilot light was out. We've had pilot light problems in the past.
The problem was the furnace is located in the unfinished part of the basement and currently that part of the basement is full of furniture and other stuff that was in the way of checking the pilot light. Being the pansy that I am, I couldn't move the stuff by myself to check. So I waited for Scarlet to come home and together (i.e. her, by herself) the furniture was moved out of the way. I removed the cover, but the pilot light was going strong. Great - now what's the problem?
I headed back upstairs and settled in on the couch with a hat and gloves and cuddled under a comforter to read. Scarlet walked by and laughed good-naturedly at me. "It really is a bit cold," she conceded. "Oh," she went on, after having checked the thermostat, "the temperature is set to 80, but it's actually not on heat - it's off. That's probably why." Probably why indeed.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
wait.... what?
It's been a while since I updated by blog, and who knows when I'll update again, so I've got a few unrelated thoughts.
1. I was at a concert at the Newport recently and while I was waiting for my party to return from the restroom, a girl came up to me with a large beer in her hands and, holding it out to me said, "You've got to help me drink this!" Luckily, I had my standard, "Sorry, I don't drink!" response, so I didn't have to try to explain that drinking from a strange girl's cup, with the possibility that she was trying to drug me so she could steal my organs (I was all alone after all), was not my usual modus operandi.
It reminded me of a time I was at Columbus State walking to class when a guy walking toward me was lighting a cigarette and talking to himself. "What am I doing, this is bad for me, I need to quit this," he said. When we were about to cross paths, he held the cigarette out to me and asked, "Do you want this?" Luckily, I had my standard, "Sorry, I don't smoke!" response.
Even so, it got me wondering, does this happen frequently to other people? I can't imagine there are many things that I would take straight from a stranger's mouth no questions asked, except perhaps dark chocolate or pineapple. Do people usually go around wishing to share overpriced carcinogens with people they don't know at all? And why aren't more people walking around with dark chocolate covered pineapple?
2. An addendum to my previous bicycle post. I went running at Antrum Lake a week or two ago and as I was about to start, a guy on a bike was coming toward me. He was talking on his cell phone and I had just enough time to hear him say, "I will call you back!" before he threw the cell phone down and crashed into the bushes. He was unhurt, which was good because it was pretty much the funniest thing I'd seen all day. Apparently he has the same bicycle skills as me. (Or else I'm just a magnet for bike crashes.) I can only imagine what kind of conversation was so important that he had to take that call right then. And I can only imagine what the person on the other line thought - if the call was ended or if they were just listening to the bystanders asking if he was okay.
In other news, my physical therapist told me that she doesn't want me to ride my bike for a while until things settle down with my shoulder a bit more, which is good because I'm still a little bit afraid of my bike.
In other news, I dislocated my shoulder last month white water rafting. I guess I don't have anything else to say about that, except that if you ever dislocate your shoulder while white water rafting, Lady MacBeth is a good person to have with you. She came to the hospital with me, so I didn't have to be alone.
3. A week from today I start my first class at Johns Hopkins University. I'll be working on a master's degree in bioinformatics. The program is designed for people who are working full time, so it has both on site and online options and I'm going to start with the online option to see how I like it. My first class is biostatistics, so wish me luck.
And if you happen to be walking by me sometime, can you please have some pineapple in your mouth?
1. I was at a concert at the Newport recently and while I was waiting for my party to return from the restroom, a girl came up to me with a large beer in her hands and, holding it out to me said, "You've got to help me drink this!" Luckily, I had my standard, "Sorry, I don't drink!" response, so I didn't have to try to explain that drinking from a strange girl's cup, with the possibility that she was trying to drug me so she could steal my organs (I was all alone after all), was not my usual modus operandi.
It reminded me of a time I was at Columbus State walking to class when a guy walking toward me was lighting a cigarette and talking to himself. "What am I doing, this is bad for me, I need to quit this," he said. When we were about to cross paths, he held the cigarette out to me and asked, "Do you want this?" Luckily, I had my standard, "Sorry, I don't smoke!" response.
Even so, it got me wondering, does this happen frequently to other people? I can't imagine there are many things that I would take straight from a stranger's mouth no questions asked, except perhaps dark chocolate or pineapple. Do people usually go around wishing to share overpriced carcinogens with people they don't know at all? And why aren't more people walking around with dark chocolate covered pineapple?
2. An addendum to my previous bicycle post. I went running at Antrum Lake a week or two ago and as I was about to start, a guy on a bike was coming toward me. He was talking on his cell phone and I had just enough time to hear him say, "I will call you back!" before he threw the cell phone down and crashed into the bushes. He was unhurt, which was good because it was pretty much the funniest thing I'd seen all day. Apparently he has the same bicycle skills as me. (Or else I'm just a magnet for bike crashes.) I can only imagine what kind of conversation was so important that he had to take that call right then. And I can only imagine what the person on the other line thought - if the call was ended or if they were just listening to the bystanders asking if he was okay.
In other news, my physical therapist told me that she doesn't want me to ride my bike for a while until things settle down with my shoulder a bit more, which is good because I'm still a little bit afraid of my bike.
In other news, I dislocated my shoulder last month white water rafting. I guess I don't have anything else to say about that, except that if you ever dislocate your shoulder while white water rafting, Lady MacBeth is a good person to have with you. She came to the hospital with me, so I didn't have to be alone.
3. A week from today I start my first class at Johns Hopkins University. I'll be working on a master's degree in bioinformatics. The program is designed for people who are working full time, so it has both on site and online options and I'm going to start with the online option to see how I like it. My first class is biostatistics, so wish me luck.
And if you happen to be walking by me sometime, can you please have some pineapple in your mouth?
Monday, July 18, 2011
i can ride my bike with no handle bars, no handle bars, no handle bars....
My whole life I've had an interesting relationship with bicycles. My earliest memory of a bike is when my bike literally tried to kill me. I was probably about 6 or 7, riding my bike with training wheels (the one two previous sisters had learned to ride on) and somehow I managed to fall off. (Apparently I was so uncoordinated back then I was able to fall off a bike with training wheels.) Being the same melodramatic girl back then that I am now, I laid on the ground in despair, thinking I would never learn to ride a bike, when the bike itself, having had enough momentum to keep going, and having training wheels so it didn't tip over, headed up the slight incline that was our driveway, turned, came down the drive way and ran over me.
Somehow, I still managed to learn to ride a bike and had a fairly normal childhood riding around the neighborhood, graduating up to the purple banana seat bike and then to a bright, new, shiny, my very own pink ten speed later. (Nothing is better as the third girl in the family to get something of your very own.)
But my brushes with bicycles were not over. My freshman year in college, I was hit from behind by a biker. I was just walking to class when I felt something hit my calf causing me to stumble. I can't remember if the girl fell off her bike or not. She was probably going slow enough that she was fine. She apologized and said she hadn't seen me. "Really?" I thought. "I am the only person on the sidewalk. Were your eyes closed?" As neither of us were hurt, we went our separate ways.
When Lydia was on her mission, I borrowed her bike. I would ride it to work, which was only a five mile ride. I only fell off once when I was trying to avoid a pedestrian and my handlebars hit a fence, causing me to go down. I still have a tiny scar on my wrist from that incident.
This is just a funny bike related story:
Jane was visiting me and she saw my newest bike and she said, "Hey, that's cool - I used to have a bike just like that." To which I replied, "Huh. Did you leave it in mom and dad's garage?"
(In my defense, mom and dad were on their mission at the time and they said I could take any bike out of the garage that I wanted and by this time in my life I wasn't as interested in the pink one.)
Recently, I decided I want to start doing triathlons. I did one with Sleakbean back in the day and we had a lot of fun. Plus, it's always nice to have something to train for. So, naturally, I bought a road bike. (My stolen from Jane bike is a mountain bike.) Being the want-to-be-savvy biker that I am, I got a fancier model, i.e. one that has pedals that you have to clip your shoes into. It is what those who are serious about biking do, so that's what I did, because I want to be serious about biking.
I was a little nervous to take it out the first time because, to be honest, I never was really good at turning. But I figured I could only learn by doing, so I got geared up and headed out. I headed to Antrum Park and started north on the Olentangy River trail. To my surprise, turning wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Road bikes are much lighter than mountain bikes, so I felt like I had much more control than with my old bike.
The first trial came not long into a ride. There is a point on the trail where you must go over a bridge, make a nearly 180 degree turn and then go under the bridge. I know myself and I knew I couldn't make this turn, so I came up with a plan. Where the turn occurs, the trail actually goes straight for a bit into a parking lot. I decided I would go straight, turn around on my feet and then go on. I thought I could unclip one foot, stop, unclip the other foot and then go from there. As I was approaching my stopping place, I unclipped my right foot and prepared to stop. It was here that I learned something very interesting about myself. It turns out that without even realizing it, I always get off my bike on the left. So, I stopped the bike, and my reflexes told my brain to move my left leg down, but unfortunately my left leg was still clipped into the pedal, so before I knew it, I was on the ground. It really takes talent to fall off a bike when you are prepared to stop, but that is me. I fell in front of a group of forty something soccer dads on roller blades, who asked if I was okay, which of course I was. One of them told me that I was going to wrong way to the bike trail and told me the way to go. Of course I knew the way to go, and I had to pretend like that was my intention all along and that I hadn't just been thinking that the smart thing to do would be to go right back the way I came and completely give up my designs on biking that day.
I clipped back in and headed back down the trail, now with a bruised knee and a bleeding shin. And now with the added stress of realizing I was probably going to die. I tried to calm myself down by thinking, what's the worst that could happen? But then I thought that the worst that could happen was that I could break my leg in a horrible manner and that I would never be able to use it again. I just concentrated on pedaling. I was about half way to the Worthington library (the end of the trail going north) when I realized: I have no idea how I am going to be able to turn around and get back on the trail. I probably got a better aerobic workout than I maybe would have because my brain was telling my hear to panic. Luckily, I did not remember what the Worthington area was like and when I got there, there was a big loop for bikers to just ride around and get back on the trail. Whew! Crisis averted!
But no! New crisis! I still didn't know how to stop. Sweet Lady Jane! - I am literally strapped into this death machine! I might just have to ride this until I die from exhaustion! And then I realized that I still had the hairpin turn to deal with. I practiced unclipping and clipping a few times to where I felt like I could at least get both feet unclipped at the same time. I approached the turn and slowed down, with both feet carefully unclipped. I managed to stop and get both legs on the ground. I didn't dare actually swinging one leg over the bike, so I just kind of walked my way forward up the bridge. There were a few people around me, so I "rested" a bit to let them by so I wouldn't embarrass myself getting back on my bike and going down the road. To my chagrin, two young men walked by and, perhaps noticing the distress that was emanating from my body, asked if I needed help. I told them that I was fine, but thanks. One eyed me uncertainly, taking in my bloody knee and asked if I was sure. Now I had no choice but to continue on. I assured them that all was well and slowly got my bike going again.
Somehow, I still managed to learn to ride a bike and had a fairly normal childhood riding around the neighborhood, graduating up to the purple banana seat bike and then to a bright, new, shiny, my very own pink ten speed later. (Nothing is better as the third girl in the family to get something of your very own.)
But my brushes with bicycles were not over. My freshman year in college, I was hit from behind by a biker. I was just walking to class when I felt something hit my calf causing me to stumble. I can't remember if the girl fell off her bike or not. She was probably going slow enough that she was fine. She apologized and said she hadn't seen me. "Really?" I thought. "I am the only person on the sidewalk. Were your eyes closed?" As neither of us were hurt, we went our separate ways.
When Lydia was on her mission, I borrowed her bike. I would ride it to work, which was only a five mile ride. I only fell off once when I was trying to avoid a pedestrian and my handlebars hit a fence, causing me to go down. I still have a tiny scar on my wrist from that incident.
This is just a funny bike related story:
Jane was visiting me and she saw my newest bike and she said, "Hey, that's cool - I used to have a bike just like that." To which I replied, "Huh. Did you leave it in mom and dad's garage?"
(In my defense, mom and dad were on their mission at the time and they said I could take any bike out of the garage that I wanted and by this time in my life I wasn't as interested in the pink one.)
Recently, I decided I want to start doing triathlons. I did one with Sleakbean back in the day and we had a lot of fun. Plus, it's always nice to have something to train for. So, naturally, I bought a road bike. (My stolen from Jane bike is a mountain bike.) Being the want-to-be-savvy biker that I am, I got a fancier model, i.e. one that has pedals that you have to clip your shoes into. It is what those who are serious about biking do, so that's what I did, because I want to be serious about biking.
I was a little nervous to take it out the first time because, to be honest, I never was really good at turning. But I figured I could only learn by doing, so I got geared up and headed out. I headed to Antrum Park and started north on the Olentangy River trail. To my surprise, turning wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Road bikes are much lighter than mountain bikes, so I felt like I had much more control than with my old bike.
The first trial came not long into a ride. There is a point on the trail where you must go over a bridge, make a nearly 180 degree turn and then go under the bridge. I know myself and I knew I couldn't make this turn, so I came up with a plan. Where the turn occurs, the trail actually goes straight for a bit into a parking lot. I decided I would go straight, turn around on my feet and then go on. I thought I could unclip one foot, stop, unclip the other foot and then go from there. As I was approaching my stopping place, I unclipped my right foot and prepared to stop. It was here that I learned something very interesting about myself. It turns out that without even realizing it, I always get off my bike on the left. So, I stopped the bike, and my reflexes told my brain to move my left leg down, but unfortunately my left leg was still clipped into the pedal, so before I knew it, I was on the ground. It really takes talent to fall off a bike when you are prepared to stop, but that is me. I fell in front of a group of forty something soccer dads on roller blades, who asked if I was okay, which of course I was. One of them told me that I was going to wrong way to the bike trail and told me the way to go. Of course I knew the way to go, and I had to pretend like that was my intention all along and that I hadn't just been thinking that the smart thing to do would be to go right back the way I came and completely give up my designs on biking that day.
I clipped back in and headed back down the trail, now with a bruised knee and a bleeding shin. And now with the added stress of realizing I was probably going to die. I tried to calm myself down by thinking, what's the worst that could happen? But then I thought that the worst that could happen was that I could break my leg in a horrible manner and that I would never be able to use it again. I just concentrated on pedaling. I was about half way to the Worthington library (the end of the trail going north) when I realized: I have no idea how I am going to be able to turn around and get back on the trail. I probably got a better aerobic workout than I maybe would have because my brain was telling my hear to panic. Luckily, I did not remember what the Worthington area was like and when I got there, there was a big loop for bikers to just ride around and get back on the trail. Whew! Crisis averted!
But no! New crisis! I still didn't know how to stop. Sweet Lady Jane! - I am literally strapped into this death machine! I might just have to ride this until I die from exhaustion! And then I realized that I still had the hairpin turn to deal with. I practiced unclipping and clipping a few times to where I felt like I could at least get both feet unclipped at the same time. I approached the turn and slowed down, with both feet carefully unclipped. I managed to stop and get both legs on the ground. I didn't dare actually swinging one leg over the bike, so I just kind of walked my way forward up the bridge. There were a few people around me, so I "rested" a bit to let them by so I wouldn't embarrass myself getting back on my bike and going down the road. To my chagrin, two young men walked by and, perhaps noticing the distress that was emanating from my body, asked if I needed help. I told them that I was fine, but thanks. One eyed me uncertainly, taking in my bloody knee and asked if I was sure. Now I had no choice but to continue on. I assured them that all was well and slowly got my bike going again.
I approached the end of my ride with some trepidation, realizing that my usual method of stopping when I don't know how was to either fall over or run into something. Realizing that with a padded room not available at the end of the ride I would have to try another method, I practiced unclipping and clipping a few more times. I reached the park, and happily was able to unclip and stop, with only a few minor bruises to my thighs from stopping juuuuuust a bit too quickly.
Hopefully my relationship with my bike with improve. I'd like to think that I just need to work at it more, but that precludes the idea that I actually have a bit of balance in my body. But, as it's the only plan I've got so far, I guess it's the one I'm going to have to take. Plan B being a broken leg, but let's hope it doesn't come to that.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
thanks
It's been a year and a bit since my dad died. It's hard to believe that sometimes. It hasn't been my favorite year, of course. There's been loads of ups and downs. One of the hardest things has been feeling like people have forgotten about it and that I'm just kind of on my own with my family, who are all also going through a rough time. And I know that's okay - everyone has their own life and this is my own trial. But still, it's nice to have people think of you from time to time.
In the month of May (which is my least favorite month, except for days with both a 3 and a 1 in them, for Shannon and Stevie) which I expected to be a hard month, this is what happened:
- I got a card in the mail. I love getting real letters in the mail. I always hope for something personal, but it doesn't happen very often, so it was lovely getting something to open and read and tell me that she hopes I'm doing well this month.
- I came home from school after taking a test that I knew I did awful on to find a lovely bouquet of flowers. At first I was jealous of my roommate, but, oh how delightful to find they were for me! (In honor of my dad's death - as a reminder that people care for me.) (I'm one of "those girls" that just really loves getting flowers.)
- I got a text from a fellow member of the Dead Father's Club saying he didn't want to be too "touchy feely" but if I every wanted to talk, I could.
- I got an email with a humorous condolence poem - again, just to let me know that they were thinking of me at this hard time. (Did you know condolence poems can be humorous? They can.)
- I got many calls from one of my dearest friends, just checking up on me.
- I got a message on my facebook wall, again, with condolences.
- My roommate is just pretty much kind and understanding all the time and always willing to listen to whatever seems to find it's way out of my mouth.
So pretty much all mediums of communication were utilized to help me know people were thinking of me. I feel like I probably got a bunch of prayers too, even if the communication to me personally wasn't there. So, all of you - thanks. And thanks too, for everyone else for trying to understand, when I don't even understand it myself. I know I've stood you up and let you down and just been generally disagreeable and unreliable. In the words of Jackie Faber, "I am very hard on my friends." So, thanks for sticking with me and letting me cry and helping me get through it, when it really is my own cross to bear. Just knowing you're nearby helps more than you know.
Also, you should visit my sister's blog, because she has some pretty cool projects she's worked on.
In the month of May (which is my least favorite month, except for days with both a 3 and a 1 in them, for Shannon and Stevie) which I expected to be a hard month, this is what happened:
- I got a card in the mail. I love getting real letters in the mail. I always hope for something personal, but it doesn't happen very often, so it was lovely getting something to open and read and tell me that she hopes I'm doing well this month.
- I came home from school after taking a test that I knew I did awful on to find a lovely bouquet of flowers. At first I was jealous of my roommate, but, oh how delightful to find they were for me! (In honor of my dad's death - as a reminder that people care for me.) (I'm one of "those girls" that just really loves getting flowers.)
- I got a text from a fellow member of the Dead Father's Club saying he didn't want to be too "touchy feely" but if I every wanted to talk, I could.
- I got an email with a humorous condolence poem - again, just to let me know that they were thinking of me at this hard time. (Did you know condolence poems can be humorous? They can.)
- I got many calls from one of my dearest friends, just checking up on me.
- I got a message on my facebook wall, again, with condolences.
- My roommate is just pretty much kind and understanding all the time and always willing to listen to whatever seems to find it's way out of my mouth.
So pretty much all mediums of communication were utilized to help me know people were thinking of me. I feel like I probably got a bunch of prayers too, even if the communication to me personally wasn't there. So, all of you - thanks. And thanks too, for everyone else for trying to understand, when I don't even understand it myself. I know I've stood you up and let you down and just been generally disagreeable and unreliable. In the words of Jackie Faber, "I am very hard on my friends." So, thanks for sticking with me and letting me cry and helping me get through it, when it really is my own cross to bear. Just knowing you're nearby helps more than you know.
Also, you should visit my sister's blog, because she has some pretty cool projects she's worked on.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
run fatgirl run
I know I haven't been blogging much. I'd say I'm sorry, but it would probably be a lie. But, for my two faithful followers (you know who you are), here's a post. (Warning: it's not very funny.)
Last Saturday I ran in the Cap City half marathon. It was quite delightful. A while ago, Raskolnikov wrote a post on his blog about how he believes marathons are pointless. I'd go back and read it again, but I'm lazy. I think the basic idea was that marathons are inconvenient for a lot of people who aren't participating in them and that people can just run the miles themselves. I agree with both of these points. Except with an organized race you have the benefits of having water and first aid stations every few miles, getting prizes and food at the end and having people cheer you on.
The people cheering you on is probably one of the best thing that keeps you going. It's a well established fact that I'm not the best at training for races. I always have good intentions, but you know where those lead you. My goal for this race was simply to run the whole way. With spectators every mile along the way, it was much easier to keep my goal. Sure, I didn't have it written on my face that I wasn't going to walk at all, so no one would have called me on it. But just being out there and knowing that people would see me if I walked was enough during the difficult miles. It's nice hearing, "You're doing great!" and "You're almost there!" even if I know that neither of those are true. Plus some random kid, probably right out of the dorms, had slices of oranges that turned out to not be drugged (I ate one) and it was just a very nice thing for him to do for us runners. It's highly doubtful that I would have gotten that if I'd just been on my own 13.1 mile run that day. (And more likely that I would have been drugged.) It's also unlikely that I would have gotten a medal at the end of a run sponsored by just myself. And who doesn't like getting medals? (Answer: no one.) (Even if they end up sitting in a drawer for a while, I still earned a medal.)
This is how bad I am at blogging: that was my second half marathon, the first being in Dayton last fall. And I now have three marathons under my belt as well (Nashville; Dublin, Ireland, and Myrtle Beach). I've thought about blogging about them all, of course, but I just never got around to it. But, at least now you know.
So, when you see a marathon, or any kind of race, really, go ahead and cheer, even if it's just for a few minutes. We really appreciate it.
Last Saturday I ran in the Cap City half marathon. It was quite delightful. A while ago, Raskolnikov wrote a post on his blog about how he believes marathons are pointless. I'd go back and read it again, but I'm lazy. I think the basic idea was that marathons are inconvenient for a lot of people who aren't participating in them and that people can just run the miles themselves. I agree with both of these points. Except with an organized race you have the benefits of having water and first aid stations every few miles, getting prizes and food at the end and having people cheer you on.
The people cheering you on is probably one of the best thing that keeps you going. It's a well established fact that I'm not the best at training for races. I always have good intentions, but you know where those lead you. My goal for this race was simply to run the whole way. With spectators every mile along the way, it was much easier to keep my goal. Sure, I didn't have it written on my face that I wasn't going to walk at all, so no one would have called me on it. But just being out there and knowing that people would see me if I walked was enough during the difficult miles. It's nice hearing, "You're doing great!" and "You're almost there!" even if I know that neither of those are true. Plus some random kid, probably right out of the dorms, had slices of oranges that turned out to not be drugged (I ate one) and it was just a very nice thing for him to do for us runners. It's highly doubtful that I would have gotten that if I'd just been on my own 13.1 mile run that day. (And more likely that I would have been drugged.) It's also unlikely that I would have gotten a medal at the end of a run sponsored by just myself. And who doesn't like getting medals? (Answer: no one.) (Even if they end up sitting in a drawer for a while, I still earned a medal.)
This is how bad I am at blogging: that was my second half marathon, the first being in Dayton last fall. And I now have three marathons under my belt as well (Nashville; Dublin, Ireland, and Myrtle Beach). I've thought about blogging about them all, of course, but I just never got around to it. But, at least now you know.
So, when you see a marathon, or any kind of race, really, go ahead and cheer, even if it's just for a few minutes. We really appreciate it.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
happy easter!
Once upon a time, when I took New Testament back at BYU, my professor gave us a list of readings to be read the week of Easter, to help prepare for that important day. Of course, I lost that list a long time ago, but luckily dear Mrs. Weasely posted a similar (or perhaps exact, I don't know) list on her blog last year, that I am stealing and posting here. Happy Easter!
Easter Readings
Sunday (Palm Sunday)
• Matthew 21:1‐17
• Mark 11:1‐11
• Luke 19:28‐48
• John 12:12‐19
Monday
• Matthew 21:18‐46, 22:1‐14
• Luke 19:47‐48, 21:37
• Mark 11:12‐19; 12:28‐34
Tuesday
• Matthew 22:15‐46, 23
• Mark 12:20‐44, 13
• John 12:20‐50
Wednesday
• Matthew 24, 25
• Luke 20, 21
Thursday (The Last Supper and Gethsemane)
• Matthew 26
• Mark 14
• Luke 22
• John 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18:1‐27
Friday (Good Friday)
• Matthew 27
• Mark 15
• Luke 23
• John 18:28‐40, 19
• 3 Nephi 8
Saturday
• 3 Nephi 9, 10
• Doctrine & Covenants 138
Sunday (Easter)
• Matthew 28
• Mark 16
• Luke 24
• John 20:1‐18
Easter Readings
Sunday (Palm Sunday)
• Matthew 21:1‐17
• Mark 11:1‐11
• Luke 19:28‐48
• John 12:12‐19
Monday
• Matthew 21:18‐46, 22:1‐14
• Luke 19:47‐48, 21:37
• Mark 11:12‐19; 12:28‐34
Tuesday
• Matthew 22:15‐46, 23
• Mark 12:20‐44, 13
• John 12:20‐50
Wednesday
• Matthew 24, 25
• Luke 20, 21
Thursday (The Last Supper and Gethsemane)
• Matthew 26
• Mark 14
• Luke 22
• John 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18:1‐27
Friday (Good Friday)
• Matthew 27
• Mark 15
• Luke 23
• John 18:28‐40, 19
• 3 Nephi 8
Saturday
• 3 Nephi 9, 10
• Doctrine & Covenants 138
Sunday (Easter)
• Matthew 28
• Mark 16
• Luke 24
• John 20:1‐18
Monday, March 28, 2011
gospel truths
My sister Lydia and her husband Mr. Wickham are primary teachers to the five year olds in their ward. (Following the trend in the church to put newly weds in a place that will be the best birth control for them.) They were teaching a lesson on the word of wisdom when this exchange took place:
Brother Wickham: What are some things that we shouldn't drink so we can be healthy?.....which is probably why the Mormons have such problems finding converts among the vampire population.
Little Girl 1: Coffee
Little Girl 2: Beer
Little Boy: Blood
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)