easily perceived as heading for Idaho

Life is AMAZING. Right off the bat, I was in a fantastic mood after writing that last entry; I love my own writing about coldness and corruption, and while "a tit-for-tat superstition as like to religion as orcs to elves" isn't quite as phonologically satisfying as "a fractured love retaining all its fervor," the Latro line was brilliant.

You know those little electrical pads that purport to give you a workout with no conscious effort? I'm pretty sure my body's figured out how to do that on its own; I do nothing but sit around in bed most of the time, but my muscles are sore, and I look incredible. Like, whoa, picture of virility. Um, such that virility means skinniness. Apparently there are amazing benefits to the six-nights-a-week schedule.

So Saturday afternoon, I went over to see Ambrosia in this radiant euphoria. Beside wearing freshly-washed clothes, being freshly-washed myself, and having a shockingly well-proportioned frame, my bishop's counsel to move on had finally sunk in. Man, such a great feeling being able to plot any course I like. I'm totally going to 0wn r00t on life. And sheesh, I was talking to Ambrosia. About computer stuff. Doesn't get any better. And on top of that, she's invited me to Ottavio's this week, which is the most wonderful restaurant EVER, and I'm SO excited. (Thanks, 'Brozy.)

I woke up at three Sunday morning, and opened the Sabbath with a few hours of emulated Super Metroid. I may make this a tradition; I get a lot more out of church when I go in a good mood. Why, I even shaved cheerfully. Oh, so Darin and Stephanie are engaged. Yeah...the last Sunday I'd been at church was the first time people were aware they were dating. He proposed in an hot air balloon, which is pretty hardcore. Good luck to them.

Sacrament meeting's theme was "kindness," which I found rather hilarious. I imagine a planning meeting along these lines: "So the pioneers did all sorts of awesome red things. What can we do for Pioneer Day that completely bashes redness?" I really like lessons on stuff at which I rock. Actually, though, the speakers were great; Master Payne coined the phrase "casual kindness" to describe the ideal of unpretentious blue benevolence, which I found brilliant.

Oh, and there were toddlers! The new second counselor in our bishopric has a three-year-old and a one-year-old, and both of them are appallingly cute, wandering up and down the aisles cooing. Bless you, Brother and Sister Green, for making us a real ward. Silence is for the dead.

In Sunday School, we discussed--you guessed it--turning to Christ in trials. Not even joking. However, it was spectacular. First off, Meagan sat with me, and we made the two best comments of the lesson. It wasn't just us, though; that class was just short of singing in tongues. It was quite therapeutic for my antipathy toward oranges; I glimpsed a little Otter in every jock. (In my high school, among the Honors courses, cliques broke down roughly as follows: green Bubble Boys, purple Abyssians, and orange Otters. In each were many dear to me.)

But yes, the lesson. The teacher did a brilliant job of keeping us philosophically focused; we spent the bulk of the time considering the purpose of trials. Oh, and we read primarily from the adored D&C 121. The teacher wasn't writing down answers on the chalkboard, so I started taking notes myself, trying to list every possible reason for a trial. "In consequence of our agency; in consequence of others' agency," I began. Obvious. "To learn empathy; to demonstrate faith," noted the class. The list still didn't seem comprehensive; I brainstormed a moment more, pondering especially the case of seemingly gratuitous disaster, like a burned-down house. "To improve focus," I finally scrawled, and went off on a lengthy comment about how trials teach us that the things we value most don't bring us the most happiness. (In the case of the only trial in my own life, I've learned I can survive without a girlfriend, though I'd never admit it.) Someone even cited me several comments later.

In Elders' Quorum, we went around the room discussing pioneer ancestors. I got to exult in my Danish heritage, and Scotty (EQP) tied it into journal-keeping. Mostly harmless.

Then I walked out of church and ate one of the miniature plums in the guest parking lot. I'm pretty sure they're my favorite fruit of all time, and they're free! And then I got in my car and listened to KBYU, 'cause classical music owns.

Saturday night, I was supposed to go visit my little bro, who came to stay with relatives in Holladay, but I fell asleep instead. Went up after church Sunday instead. Aunt Kim made a steak dinner, but one of the kids took three or four pieces, so there was none left for me. Yeah, I know, heartbreaking. I had three bowls of salad with this exquisite basil cream dressing based on a Cheesecake Factory recipe. (Oh, I have two Aunts Kim. They are both small and tired and very good cooks. The paternal one has a wry wit.)

We played Halo 2 for a bit, then passed around a controller for Animal Crossing, which is stupid but enjoyable. I fell asleep in the doorway of the bedroom for about twelve hours. This morning, we went to Snowbird for a wretchedly disorganized family reunion with my mother and my aunt Peg. We're talking such awful group dynamics that I was the leader; I'd wander over away from the group and suddenly find myself surrounded. The adults argued for a while about buying tickets, after which we went on the Alpine Slide once. When we got back, we found out that they hadn't wanted to spend so much money, so we let them return the rest of the tickets (cheerfully; they're obscenely priced).

We wandered back to the hotel, found out that the pool table and internet cafe both cost money, and decided to have lunch, so I led us to the Forklift, a costy restaurant actually worth the price, with generous portions and artful cuisine. They all got the Forklift Burger; I just had a veggie burger, which was cheaper and arguably even tastier (even in their opinions, upon sampling). Homemade salsa and guacamole, yum. Good fries, too. I gave Aunt Kim $30 to cover Eric and my $25 meal; she later gave me $4 in change. Yeah...please never do that again. I know what I'm tipping.

Now, having dropped my brother off at the airport, I am home. Oh, I forgot the very sad things that have happened. First, my boss revamped our firm website with the first page entirely done in Flash. I was devastated; when he stood to say the closing prayer in Elder's Quorum, I caught myself thinking, "I can't believe they're having someone pray on Sunday who did an all-Flash site just this week." Yes, I am that into accessibility standards. Much more legitimately horrible, I took a turnoff into construction on the way to Snowbird, ran over an huge rock, and knocked the stuffing out of my undercarriage. Still makes me sick to my stomach thinking about it. Still runs well, but it's leaking a little oil, and the radio and cigarette lighter appear to be dead.

Also, on the way back, I didn't notice a red light, slammed on my brakes, and got to practice turning in the direction of a skid. It was kind of awesome. Ward Heather says I am orange in driving, but man, who isn't, with a stick? She talks about this one night I drove her around as though it had been horrifying, but I mostly just kept having to turn around, which I did in an entirely safe manner. Okay, there was that one time that I took a turn from the northbound freeway exit to the southbound freeway entrance and kind of missed the turnoff and ended up driving down the left side of the road, but I executed a rapid three-point turn and everyone was just fine, all right?