The Perfect Prayer Prank

DH has only a mild history of being a jester. But the few gags he has done have been well executed (putting aside the obvious Bob's Big Boy incident, of course). Evil scheming authored the Greeny Companion Gag he pulled on some poor lad in England.

In the late 80's DH went to England for two years to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Donning the title of "Elder", this was to be two years of spiritual growth for an otherwise immature 19-year-old. It is common to be paired with another young male "companion" and together they were to spread a message of Christ and the Gospel. For the most part, that was the lofty work DH was involved in during those two years. But that is not to suggest he was a perfect saint

After DH had been in England for more than a year, he received a new companion fresh from the United States (aka "A Greeny"). Fighting a terrible case of jet lag, this new missionary was not very successful at avoiding the urge to doze off during what should have been wakeful hours.

Soon it was Sunday morning which for two missionaries, obviously meant time to attend church. Sure enough, once the opening hymn was sung and opening prayer was given, this new messenger to England was sound asleep in an awkward upright position. DH, let the poor boy snooze for some time. Amazed at the young man's ability to be so soundly slumbering during the middle of the morning, DH quickly developed a not-so-righteous plan.

During a lull not more than half way through the Sabbath Day meeting, DH gave the inexperienced missionary a huge elbow and whispered, "Elder, the Bishop just asked you to give the closing prayer." Abruptly brought back from dreamland the obedient missionary promptly walked to the front of the chapel, stood at the pulpit, looked over the unsuspecting crowd, then bowed his head and eloquently prayed a blessing on the congregation to close the meeting.

A bit bewildered, the Bishop stood up. As the newly hazed missionary walked back to sit next to DH, who was doubled over in pain trying to silence his body from exploding in hilarity, the Bishop quickly suggested, "While our new Elder has given us a closing prayer, I think we will keep going for at least a few more minutes."

Gahanna Police are Punk'd

There has been a bit of a ruckus at the house because of the latest news story to hit the headlines. Originally brought to my attention by David, the news flash has since been confirmed by USA Today and even my own local paper. Apparently someone has succeeded, despite DH's botched attempt in 1985, to place a fiberglass Big Boy statue atop their local high school.

The antic was executed by pranksters in Gahanna, Ohio. I'd say the Gahanna Lincoln High troublemakers are obviously more sly than DH and his buddies to have successfully carried out the caper. DH contends that there is simply less policing done in Someplace, Ohio compared to San Clemente: The Heart of Southern California.

Besides the obvious similarities in the stories, I am perhaps most amused by the statement from Gahanna Police Lt. Jeffrey Spence, in which he suspects this "may" be a prank by seniors. On second thought, DH may have a point about the policing differences between the two towns.

As they clearly need a little jump start, allow me to help out the Gahanna Police Department. While I have no intimate knowledge as to the corny event in their town, this was definitely a prank by seniors.

That narrows the town of 32,636 down to about 275 people. Delete the girls and you are at about 140 students. Cross off the valedictorian and choir president and now you have 138 possible suspects. Nix all the names of students in the computer and physics labs during the next pep rally and there is your list of about 100 likely offenders.

Begin your investigation with the basketball, football and wrestling team captains and anyone with access to a Ford F250 with bolt cutters as well as pulleys and ropes hidden under the backseat.

There. That little tidbit should get the Gahanna Police Department on track. And perhaps they'll even be successful at making sure some poor seniors get criminal records for life.

Me No Comprenda

Have you heard of the French dialect called Shiak? It is a mix of English and French and is supposedly a hot thing with the youth in various parts of Canada. Thanks to Eve's help I even have an example for you:

English: Pass me the ketchup please.
French: Me passer le ketchup s'il vous plaît.
Shiak: Pass moi le Ketchup, s'il vous plaît.

It seems a bit like the Spanish-English combo that I hear in the Western United States. And that is pretty hip right now too. But just for the record, my mom and my grandma were speaking Spanglish first. Back in the 70's. Long before J-Lo or anyone else hopped on the bandwagon.

My mom took Spanish in High School, and since my grandma taught school in heavily populated Spanish-speaking areas of California, she naturally pick up the language. So with that in common, when my grandparents came to Iowa on their yearly visit, Grandma and Mom could discuss all sorts of secret surprises, right in front of us. And try as I might - I could never figure out what was going on. Their discussions would go something like this:

Mom: Las niñas are aburrido.
Grandma: Ah. It is time for trabajo.
Mom: But qué will keep them ocupado?
Grandma: How about: limpie the bedrooms.

I would listen intently, hoping someone was buying me new curtains for my bedroom. Instead, my sisters and I, as payback for our professed boredom, were soon knee-deep in cleaning behind our dressers and under our beds.

Later the conversations would continue:

Grandma: Linda, it is very caliente.
Mom: Yes, Mom.
Grandma: Perhaps abuelo should compre some helado.
Mom (not as fluent as Grandma): Abuelo?
Grandma: Si, Linda. Have you forgotten so much of your Spanish already?
Mom: Abuelo...Abuelo...
Grandma (a bit perturbed, pointing to Grandpa): Ron, Linda.
Mom: Ohhh abuelo. Si, now I remember. It is caliente. Helado? Las niñas would be so feliz!

And so Grandpa would get the treasured chore of walking us to Penn Drug Store in the 95 degree heat with 80% humidity for twenty-cent ice cream cones. And we would be completely surprised, not knowing if we were going on an errand to pick up some extra broccoli for dinner or what.

Opposites Overcome

When DH and I were first married, we did not have a "song". I joked that our song was Paula Abdul's, Opposites Attract. We have since snagged a song to call our own that is much more fitting, but there is some merit to claiming the Paula Abdul mildly popular hit instead.

Mostly because we are not the picture perfect couple. DH is tall; I am short. DH is blond; I am brunette. DH has blue eyes; I have brown. DH is athletic; I received only one ribbon (4th place Honorable Mention) in 5 years of swim team. However, our incompatibility goes much deeper than these examples. And we have had the Newlywed Game losing streak to prove it.

Our friends Janna and Father Love (as Troy prefers to be called on this special game night) host an annual Newlywed Game. Every year Janna chooses great questions. At least I think they are great, but they often embarrass Father Love.

Tonight's favorite was: As a player on the field of love, what penalty will your wife say you’re most likely to be called on: •motion in the backfield •rushing (or) •illegal use of hands?

A close second was this inquiry: Exactly how long will your husband say he can go without playing leap frog before his personality starts to change: •hours •days •weeks • months?

I should explain that during part of the game, one of the couples had a young daughter in the room, and so we had to use code words. What I'm really trying to say is, in case you did not already know, "leap frog" does not really mean the childhood vaulting yard game.

Typically DH and I do not fare too well on these or any such questions. Over the years I have come to realize that DH has no idea what color my toothbrush is, nor does he have any clue as to where the craziest place is that we have ever played leap frog. And sadly I don't know what animal DH's mother-in-law reminds him of, nor can I correctly recall the oddest place on his body I have ever seen him shave. And so it has been the running joke that DH and I always come in last or close to it when we play the Newlywed Game.

Well tonight we turned everyone's heads. Not because we did not finish last, and not because we did well. But mostly because we won!! Woo hoo!! That would be as in 1st place! I'd say not bad for a couple of polar opposites.

Four Winns Forlorn

Somewhere in the comments of this blog, despite my claims otherwise, David contended that there is no such thing as a "dumb boat."

Before we bought our wasteful watercraft, a friend offered a good measure as to whether or not we were prepared for boat ownership. The test goes as follows: Start by flushing twenty dollar bills down your toilet every night. Continue this game for one week. Spend the second week flushing hundred dollar bills down the toilet. At the end of the two week test, if you found such activities to be enjoyable, then you are an ideal candidate for boat ownership.

DH figured he'd pass that test with flying colors so he bought a big 'ol vessel.

In the past seven years, we have realized boat ownership is more expensive than flushing twenties and hundreds down the toilet, but is also a bit more fun.

However, with four restaurants, we are running thin on money to flush down the toilet as well as time to enjoy the process. So, alas, our boat is for sale.

I thought the day DH decided to sell the boat would be a happy one for me. But as I nostalgically rummage through pictures to post on our listing, I'm feeling twinges of sadness. Wistful for a dumb dinghy. Can you believe it?

Not Even If You Were the Last 11 Year-Old On the Earth

Every Friday, while the rest of the 5th grade had Reading, I went to Problem Solving. I met in the elementary school library with two other students, Bobby Rasmussen and Jeff Dean for this unusual class.

Each week, in a secure manila envelope, we were given a problem to solve as a group. We were to do our absolute best work and place the completed assignment back in the envelope and close it securely. At the time I honestly thought they were looking for kids for secret government work. And even if I was not selected, I figured it got me out of class, so I was game.

Working independent of any teacher supervision, so as to not taint our results, one week our problem was somewhat as follows: We were to imagine that the people in our problem solving group were stranded on a deserted island surrounded by massive waves and man eating sharks. The paperwork went into great detail about the natural resources and climate of the island. Our assignment included making a list of ten things that would make it possible to ensure our survival.

Our hour long strategy session started out as you might typically imagine. However, early on we debated just exactly what would secure our survival. I argued we needed to feed, clothe and shelter ourselves until we could alert someone to rescue us. Bobby and Jeff insisted we were destined to remain stranded and we needed to consider what would allow for the survival of the human race on the island.

Below knife, tarp, fishing pole, matches, and other such items we had one line left for our tenth requirement for survival. I wanted to write 'flares'. Bobby and Jeff wanted to write 'sex'.

Since sex with either one of them was not even a remote possibility in my mind, as designated scribe, in my neatest cursive, I wrote 'flares.' Bobby grabbed the paper from me, erased it and in crude, firm pencil wrote 'sex'.

I adamantly disagreed and informed them that if we were truly stranded on such an island, I would never agree to continue the human race with either one of them. They insisted that I would have no choice; it would be my obligation to have children. And so a loud and boisterous argument ensued.

Stubborn and strict in my stance, I would not be swayed. While Bobby passionately pounded his farm-hand fists on the library table and Jeff tried to argue with logic, I folded my arms and refused to budge.

Even though we were explicitly told not to discuss answers with our teacher, before securing the envelope, I took our paper and showed it to Miss Langston. Pointing to Bobby's dark penciled 'sex' on line #10, I explained my dilemma.

I stood with my heart pounding awaiting her verdict. She considered all agruments and then agreed I could change 'sex' to 'flares' since I was not physically capable of creating life at this point in my life.

I stuck my tongue out at Bobby and Jeff, and scored an imaginary point for my personal victory of deserted island celibacy.

It's All About Me

I spend a lot of time talking about, and even embarrassing, a lot of people on this blog. Well, in response to a tag from Eve, I am going to present you with some little known facts about myself. Even if you think you know me well, you may be surprised at the following list:

1. I spent my childhood summer days daydreaming about being a princess. I envisioned gorgeous gowns in every hue bursting from large gilded wardrobes. I would live in a castle with servants and visit with rulers from around the world. I was very certain, there had been some terrible mistake and I was not really designed to weed the strawberries, shuck corn, snap green beans and can tomato sauce all my life.

2. We did numerous garden chores on summer mornings, but always went to the community swimming pool in the afternoon. I was even on the town's swim team for several years. In all that time, I placed only once. I have the fourth place white ribbon to prove it. Of course, only four girls competed in the 100 Meter Breaststroke that day.

3. It was during Summer Driver's Ed when I was 15, that I almost ran Mr. Whithoff and a few other unlucky passengers off a gravel road. I had apparently garnered too much false confidence in my newly acquired driving ability and took a hair pin turn on a gravel road at a very unsafe speed. Now I know why they have the emergency brakes on the other side of the Driver's Ed car.

4. Shortly after moving from Iowa to Pennsylvania, I won the high school Voice of Democracy speech contest. In so doing, I presented my speech at the District Competition: "A few months ago, my family moved to a new home in a new state. Much like our forefathers who came to this great land, I faced a new life full of uncertainty and opportunity..." Yes, I had intentions of being the first female U.S. President. Now I'm afraid Hillary will beat me to it.

5. I took three years of the highly useful language Hebrew in college. I was going to be a diplomat to Israel someday, or something. I was not blessed with a gift for languages, hence my college transcript boasts 26 credits of 'C's'. Shalom.

6. I lived a very safe life until I met my husband. It was not until after I married DH that I got my first cavity, first speeding ticket and first broken bone.

7. I was a caller on Dr. Laura's Radio Show several years ago. I called in with an extended family concern. She yelled at me, used the 'B' word in reference to me, and told me to mind my own business. But I still listen to Dr. Laura almost every day.

8. One of my life goals was to be on the Jumbo Tron at a Utah Jazz game. I finally accomplished that goal about two years ago. Some photographer fed the mammoth-sized screen a very grainy picture of me sitting up in the nose bleed section, holding a poster that read, "Harpring Is The Court King." I was having a great hair day, but due to the greyed out fuzzy picture, it was to no avail.

Now, I am tagging anyone that wants to be tagged. Post eight little known facts about yourself in your own blog. And hurry, cause I can't wait to read 'em!