true confessions

Greg and I have been married for 5.5 years and in all those 5.5 years we have pretty much never missed a Saturday night adult session of Stake Conference. When we were first married I failed to realize that it was an expectation that we always attend these events. But under the assurance of Greg telling me that "these are always the best sessions" we went. So there I sat - ticked off and mad that we were "wasting" our Saturday night. Thank goodness my friend Lindy and her husband showed up so that we could make faces at each other as the speakers pulled up a white board and identified houses in our stake boundaries that weren't LDS. It was, to put it mildly, a very "odd" adult session. Since then the adult sessions have been kind of hit or miss but we have always hit them. Once, when we first moved back to Provo, we forgot that it was Stake Conference and we left IKEA and hustled back so that we could make it. So you see - the point of this is that we have been dedicated.

Except for this weekend. We didn't go on Saturday night. Don't judge. After all that work we were starving and we needed some sustenance and we were dying. So instead, we decided to hit up Joe Bandido's and "support" a ward member/friend that works there. So you see, we had good intentions. Kind of. Really, we couldn't even remember if she was working that night but once Greg got a taste for Bandido's delicious chips (thanks to Tara and the Red Rock Relay) he had been talking about going there all week.

And of course, from everyone, we heard that really the adult session of Stake Conference was amazing and awesome and fantastic. The BEST part is that we heard that there was a slide show featuring our missionaries AND that one of the speakers said that sometimes, if they are lucky, the missionaries will come over and share a special ukulele song with her and her family. I just want to clear something up - yes, having the missionaries in our house is much better since the recent transfer but it is not all roses. For example, this morning our house was apparently a missionary party house for p-day breakfast. It was fine - but I felt a little awkward in the kitchen - hence I ate my cereal in the garage while waiting for Greg to finish getting  ready. No problem. But also just because they are missionaries - sometimes they still lose their temper - case in point - we found this busted ukulele in our garbage a couple of months ago. Apparently, one of the Elders had just had it with another one of the Elders and took it out on this poor instrument.

When the Elders move out we are going to hang this on our wall in memoriam of the experience. Kind of like a rock star's smashed guitar - but better.

Whoa. This post is verbose.