Yeah - I had 4 cookies after dinner last night.

I was talking to my mom on Friday about aspects of this churchy job that, frankly, I'm pretty sure no one would believe to be true.  Mom and I mused that I should write a book about all of the insanity, but I'm reasonably sure an editor would tell me it is too far-fetched and s/he/it would ask me to add in a few winged beings, a wand or two, and try to classify my great autobiography as Fantasy.

I thought housing 5 kids while a gun-wielding father was hunting them down was out there. I thought consoling an active LDS, upstanding, trained athlete - along with her kids - hours after her husband was hauled off to the federal pen (and learning they'd been on the lam for nearly a year) was wild. There have been trips to unwed, teen girls who were going to give birth and dealing with the ward-wide-baby-shower insanity afterward, and a veeeeeery terse bishop.  At one time, we've had 3 folks dealing with cancer treatments in our ward all while dealing with another half dozen or so who are un-or-underemployed.  

There's been the drama of not one, but TWO different mothers who at 20-or-so weeks preggers - and with a houseful of other kids - have been on bedrest and want some Relief Society help. OH! Speaking of houses full of kids, there's the clearly insane mother of five who just went out and married a man 15 years her junior. They met in a gym and had only known one another for a WEEK.  The nuptials initiated her throwing her 70-year-old mother (who was our last RS President) out on the literal street.  Yup - she packed her mother's things in storage and for a time, would not tell her where the unit was.  (Mind you - the mother had moved in at the daughter's request year's ago and has given all of her money to the raising of the 5 children while the mother has never had regular employment.)

We've had late night moves and cries for casseroles.  We've had not one, not two, but 3 illegal alien families all looking for assistance from the church....while our Elder's Quorum President works as an immigration attorney deporting the bad guys.  (He's not technically a reporting agent, but he cannot have any contact with illegals.  Needless to say, we cannot tell HIM what is going on, and frankly, none of us wants to know, either.)

There's the mother telling me her husband won't LET her use church welfare - or any welfare - but they are starving. There's the mother telling me her son tried to kill them all recently, but he's getting married soon and she doesn't want to wreck the nuptials by having him Bakker acted.  Of course, the mother is not invited to the nuptials because she lost her ever-loving mind and went nutters  on him.  Let's see....oh...same son pretends he passes the bar to members of the ward, but meanwhile, he still hasn't and went ballistic on his boss to keep his job after flunk numbers 5 and 6...and since the boss is a member of the church, he wants some sort of "action" taken on the man should he finally be let go.

You get the picture. This calling is INSANE!  And, methinks, so are many members of my ward.

I remember being unimpressed by a President in the past who would leave me snarky messages after 1.0 was born.  She would say, "If you do not call me back soon and tell me how you are, I canNOT help you!"

Mind you - I wasn't asking for help. And during this time, we had no cell phone and I pretty much lived at the hospital for 7 weeks.  

I remember being unimpressed by a RS Presidency who, when making a quilt of all the sisters in the ward, had not included me...and when they asked us to mention if we didn't see our names on the quilt (and I got up the nerve to say something)...I was asked, "Ok - who are you?"

I'd only been in the ward about 9 months.  Serving faithfully in Primary.

I remember having lackluster thoughts about a Presidency that put on the most awful Enrichment meetings I have ever been to in my life. Seriously - these were baaaad folks. I wondered why only 5 or so of us went my first venture out...then I got it.

You know what. I would like to formally repent. Those women were ROCK STARS! Kudos to them for what they managed to do!  Blessings on their heads!

Last week, I had 2 sisters in the hospital and I never made it. My kid got a fever and I couldn't get there. I explained it to them both - but one had that, "Oh yeah - really - don't bother" kind of look in her eyes about my apologies. And I thought to myself, "Giiiiiiiiirl - I get that!  I get that you think I'm a loser. But last week, I spent an hour on the phone trying to convince an illegal that Venezuela isn't all bad and really, the church can't aid and abet illegals...you know...without ME going to jail."  But I couldn't very well say that, eh? So I smiled and apologized and nodded and listened and let her pass some judgement.

It used to be the judgement bothered me. But someday - when they see my (names-changed-to-protect-the guilty) accounting of all of this on the Barnes and Noble bestseller's rack, they'll get over it.

Right?

I hear people say, "Just quit! Tell them you can't do this anymore."  

Uh, those people are never Mormon.

Saying that is like telling a conservative Jew to not circumcise his son. Or like telling Siegfried and Roy to not wear glittery costumes.

So, my little Presidency marches on. We've got an (unapproved by the Stake President and our Bishopric) book club coming up and we just gave out cupcakes on Fast Sunday. I don't know what else it will take for us to get the axe. While these things seem like they should be alarming to our Bishop, perhaps they aren't..seeing as it is being compared in alarming status to the man and woman who are in the ward, unemployed, with cancer, and who are pretending to be married and active members...and who, apparently, aren't.

Oh - no more time for venting. Even as I type, I'm now receiving, what appears to be, an email campaign-flooding-of-my-inbox with complaints that I'm asking them to sign up on lds.org so our Presidency emails are generated in the proper site and done correctly.  

I know this church is true.

0_0

Microwave, microwave...

…wherefore art thou microwave?

These are troubled times, my friends.  There’s a recession, we’re all grumpy from the Daylight Savings Time switch, and the fashions this season continue to be blah, gray, and paper-sack-esque.  Dark times have befallen all of us.

But my times are darkest of all.  However bad off you are, I’m WORSE.  You might not have known how hard things are here…I’ve tried to keep a stiff upper lip.  I’ve done my dang darnedest to rise above my own challenges and dramas and continue to be a good listener and friend to all.  But know this now…I’m in a bad, ugly place.

Woe is me.  Woe is all the heck over me.

“Why?” you might ask, filled with shock and awe.

I’ll tell you why.

Since January, I, Mama T. Mormon - wife to one, mother to three, friend to many - have been utterly and completely MICROWAVE-FREE.  No nuking is going on here.  No quickie baked potatoes as a snack.  I cannot look in the small, opaque, double-paned-for-my-safety window and ask, “What do I see?” There is no microwave-popcorn popping for me.

I’ve tried to man up on this one. I’ve been all, “Ohhh - let’s see how much we can save not using microwaveable veggies for dinner!” I’ve learned how to use all my stove’s burners at once.

People - I’ve popped the Hungry Man meal in the TOASTER OVEN. And have I whined? Complained? Cursed the microwave gods?

Oh no - I haven’t.

Until now.

I spent weeks and weeks waiting while my (dear, sweet, mildly detail-obsessive) husband went to his Hunter Man place - aiming to bring me home the very best microwave at the very cheapest price.  Of course, the best ones weren’t in stock at ANY store in East Mormonville.

Nor were they readily available on-line.

But we persevered. And finally, one was delivered.  For a fee, of course.

Then, our installer’s father had a heart attack, so we had to wait a full-on week until he could make it to us. The nice part of that was that we were able to use the box the appliance was in as a sort of console table in the front hall to collect things. Polly Pockets enjoyed playing there a great deal. I believe I dusted it only once.

Finally, our installer friend was able to steal away from the ICU unit long enough to help us.  I only had to rearrange 3 or 4 things for that to be do-able. And it all was going swimmingly - except that the microwave was way too small for the hole over the stove. At least we only had to pay the delivery charge.  And the shipping and stuff. Maybe a fee to dump the old micro. But that’s all. Not too much.

We were back to the proverbial 50% power button - only to find out - basically, we needed to upgrade our expectations. No cheapie micro was going to fit in that behemoth space.

So we special ordered. And waited, and waited. And paid the bill in advance. And waited.

Today - allegedly, there is a microwave in for us. But no one can seem to find it at the store.

So hear I sit. No microwave. A lot of money gone, and no microwave.  

It’s March folks.  The last time I nuked something was back in JAN-U-ARY! If I don’t get to radiate some product soon, I’m going to lose it. And not in a cute George-W-when-he-got-tongue-tied-giving-a-speech kind of “lose it” fashion. We’re talking I’m going to go full on insane if I cannot heat up a Hot Pocket stat.

You think you’ve got problems? You don’t know from problems. You want to see a hard life? Come live here. Know hardness.