I have a problem with too many buttons. I mean so many options and a girl likes options. Except when it is necessary they be in order so that they can make things "go."
I don't like to be bothered with making things "go," so 16 years ago tomorrow I had a son so he could do it for me. You know, turn on the TV. The DVD. Movies. Nothing you know anything about, but trust me, worth it.
It really has worked out well for me.
All I have to say is "Make it go" and the men in my life hop up, thrilled that they can serve me at anytime and my every whim. :) Not.
"Mom, can't you learn to do this yourself?"
But I know I have succeeded in my mothering when he says "I know, make it go" BEFORE I ask. Who says all that brainwashing I did when he was young didn't paid off?
How does one retrace someone else's steps 106 years after the fact? How does someone make a journey like this "go?"
Well, the obvious answer is there has to be some sort of footsteps recorded to retrace.
I know..brilliant deduction, eh? Which is hard to believe that I basically failed Deductive Logic my freshman year of college. I remember the professor running after me one day and telling me if I just tried harder, he was sure it was in there. Ha UAA professor! You were right, but only 26 years too early! He would be so proud. Wait, is this even deductive logic?
So, fortunately for me, because you were a great record keeper and meticulous about washing your feet, I am able to do just that.
Retrace. Weird word. When I hear the word "trace" I think of a documentary of ballerinas who are anorexic and had to trace their bodies one day on giant butcher paper so they could see a true representation of what they looked like. It is called "body dis morphia" which I think I have because I always have thought I look like I weigh 400 pounds (which I don't, although I may or may not think I do today, so maybe I need to get some butcher paper out...) But like your compulsive feet washing, I am sure there is some sort of medicine for me.
Here, on this stormy day (who says that 200+ people coming to my best friends house in 5 hours to eat BBQ can't be fun in a tornado?) I am thinking of some great resources.
Resources about you.
Just reading through this amazing book of your mission. It is known as "Church History in Black and White" edited by Richard N. Holzapfel, T. Jeffery Cottle, and Ted D. Stoddard. Richard seems to actually be one busy fella....BYU professor, editing books, writing articles, and serving as a mission president--coincidentally in the Alabama, Birmingham mission, where I served mine on visa delay (shout out to ya'll!).
I tracked him down about a year and half ago to see what he thought about my idea of the "mini mission" and he was like, "Youin' should do it." Well, he didn't really say "youin'" like Billy Geer I taught from my time there but it makes it sound more fun. I doubt professors say "youin" in their daily conversation....perhaps if my logic professor had, maybe I would have been motivated.
Get a copy today!
Actually, let me add my disclaimer here:
I know these pictures stink. But some cameras need to have some distance to perform but when your arm is not connected to Stretch Armstrong's body (speaking of Stretch Armstrong, let me insert a photo here that I did not take---thanks Google--and I didn't even need my personal Google Assistant Greg L. to find it for me!) a girl does the best she can. My brother had one. The coolest thing about Stretch is when his magic stretch body finally tore, it "bled" some sort of toxic red gel. Stretch, like Iron Man, was vincible! Looking at this picture below, Stretch seemed to spend a lot of time hugging himself. They have medication for that, too, Stretch.
Here is another example of crappy photography...oh, I mean of Church history maps and guide books. This is by LaMar Berrett, who I don't know says "youin" or not.
As always, it is not my fault that these pictures stink. See, the Boy and Girl are having some sleep over somewhere in the famous meth lab capital of Missouri (see Independence) and Mr. Fun is still checking his eyelids for holes. That leaves me and the five catties, who really are pretty useless to me since they don't have opposable thumbs to hold the books up at a decent distance. You know, as I type this, what purpose do those five cats really serve? Hold on for minute, I gotta run an errand to the local shelter and drop five somethings off. :)
One more picture to tease you. Richard Hozelzophfal...as I have called him accidentally for the last 15 years, did another book called "Old Mormon Kirtland and Missouri." It has been very useful, not only to me but for the others who have used it to get around when they come to visit us here in Zion. As you can see for yourself, someone spilled something weird on it (definitely not beer because I did not take it to the party at Eddy's house.) I bet you just said to yourself, "Who the heck is Eddy?"
One time grade school Eddy hosted a huge kegger at his house (yeah, I was there....don't judge) (in case you are, I wasn't LDS back then) that got busted by the cops, WAY out on the end of Funny River Road (before it was paved.) My boyfriend went to it without me, and I remember the look of shock he had when my friends and I showed up. There was a very good reason I learned years later but since this is supposed to be a spiritual sort of blog, it will remain a secret. But let's say it involved a fella named Jon. The most impressive things I remember about Eddy H. was that he had great penmanship in the 4th grade and that he got his driver license at 12 or some crazy age because the "hardship" law applied to him.
That said, I will stick with your name of George. It is funner to say. And it doesn't remind me of hiding in a closet from the cops. :)