Stake Conference Weekend

I have been assisting in the painting of the front living room, hall ways and down the stairs. This has been divided into a day for each section. My girlfriend will cut in around the edges while I am at work and then I muster the snippet of energy sufficient to roll the prepared spaces. It has worked sufficiently well. I am now adorned with beautiful streaks of brown across knuckles and arms.

I had been negligent in my duties from Thursday and Friday and by Saturday a large section of living space was ready and waiting the delicate caress of my paint roller! This included the sections high above the descending stairs where a uncommitted, highly distractable, bare footed bowling ball of a man could easily take one long, life altering step off a borrowed ladder and watch from a broken section of stairs as paint roller, paint can, wave of freshly exonerated brown paint and ladder come crashing down upon his baby smooth, kissable, soon to be freshly coated skull! This did not happen. I am focused, baby! or scared for my swollen and seam stressing life.

I began slopping paint Saturday morning as the second of two assigned Saturday chores. The first turned out to be the affixing of three coated wire rack baskets to the inside of the pantry door. I was able to use a drill and a hammer, create quite a mess, and still feel like a built something. Christmas in February. I began painting and painting and painting, all to eighties pop rock music blaring from a playlist on my Ipod through my son's IHome.

I soon realized that I did not have sufficient paint to complete the days assignment. I am dressed in a old pair of light blue, very worn and faded jeans, which refuse to nestle under my profound gut but repeatedly attempt an escape for my feet, and a equally old, once was double x now is a female small tee shirt and no shoes. I tell the girlfriend how lucky she is to have this....... no that's not right... I told her that I needed to run for more paint. She is obviously concerned because I don't run. ever. I stroll, I meander, I walk purposefully if I am getting help for some sort of accident, I crawl if I am on the floor watching tv and the remote is out of reach and all my efforts of Jedi mind control have failed, I roll it the remote control is to one side or the other, I shuffle if dinner is ready, but I don't run.

So I say that I need more paint. She informs me that the paint store closes in twenty minutes and is in Provo. I grab my shoes, squish my bare feet inside, lumber to the truck with the key ring around one pudgy finger and slid out of the driveway to a ear bending chorus of "Best of Both Worlds!" This is not the Hanna Montana version that I am ashamed to say is on my IPod, but it is the original Vah Halen masterpiece. I make it to the paint store in 18.3 minutes to discover that that don't close at 1:00 pm as otherwise warned but that they close at 3:00 pm. All is still well with my Saturday chores. I buy the stuff.... can of paint, roller brush, two disposable roller trays. I drive back and continue the work.

I borrower my neighbor's fancy ladder for the locations overlooking the crevasse and paint, paint, paint. It is 3:30. My first of four meetings for the stake conference weekend begins at 4:00, bless this church and their desire to get together. I run the roller over the final strip of bare wall and jump in the shower, offering up apologies to a son who does not like to be late and is waiting somewhat patiently in his suit, and to the girlfriend whom I inform will have to perform the enviable duties of washing out everything. This is the silverlining to the endless stream of meetings awaiting me this weekend. I won't bore you with the play by play of soap and washcloth as it scrubbed the endless vista of spongy, hairy flesh. Sufficeth to say that I showered.

Out of the shower, into the suit and back out to the truck to go to priesthood leadership meeting. Recognizing the seriousness and sacredness of where we are going, I change the music playing as we started the truck to "Jump" which I felt brought the proper spirit. This meeting then blended into the adult session at 7:00, which is not nearly as titillating as it sounds, which then blended into the 8:00 am morning side for youth and parents lucky enough to have procreated at least 12 years ago which then flowed effortlessly into the full unabashed family session from 10:00 to 12:00. NO MORE MEETINGS TODAY. Which is funny because I usually have nearly this many meeting every sunday. So nothing really happened this weekend.

Chau