STELLMON. That would be Tanner Stellmon I'm talking to--my nephew (though I guess he's not technically my nephew anymore), NOT Tanner Warnick, whom I am not talking to right now, since I had to find out about his wedding from his little brother (Whoops. Sorry, Chan. His "taller" brother) even though I planned on dancing--on the table tops--at his wedding, since I personally had to suffer so much from his troubles with Melissa, who was probably just sent to get him ready for his real wife.
Soooooo, Tanner STELLMON, I was wondering if you have an office, and if you do, is it F.S.? I tipped over rock salt today, which I had in all four corners of my house to suck out bad energy. Wow, I bought that rock salt with Serena--that's how long ago it was--it seems like I dreamed it.
Remember when I had you and Jared move my desk around so it faced exactly SE, which meant it sat triangular to the door? Whew. Did my F.S. work? I don't know. I think I'll try it again and pay attention this time. I think it did though; I'm normal more than half the time now; but I was wondering if yours did.
I wonder if the Lord ever gets irritated with our silliness.
16 comments:
For those confused, I think Sharon means Feng Shui by F.S.
I may or may not have spelled that right. Feel free to correct, but please don't mock.
Ha. So, I thought it was obvious I was talking about Feng Shui! (Thanks. You always watch my back, but you must get tired of interpreting me for the world?)
I liked the idea: "I wonder if the Lord ever gets irritated with our silliness."
I wonder how much of what we do is just silliness? I bore my testimony in church today (because I'm so righteous, Sharon, and I just want you to know) and it was a weird testimony about learning patience and not saying dumb things to my brother and not being mad at my dad and I don't know if it was really a testimony or what.
But I wonder how silly the whole thing really is? How much is not deep or long lasting and not really anything more than just silliness? I wonder how God, with his Bigger Picture prescription glasses, sees these little squabbles?
(What I wrote in parentheses before was sarcasm. Just in case I was unclear.)
My head is too big for a single office. I have two - one in the main courthouse and one out at the juvenile justice building (juvie).
Neither is Shui'd or Feng'd, as I'v never understood the subtleties of the Yen or then Yang. I suppose I could fill my pockets with parking lot gravel - after picking out the re-fries - and throw it in a styrofoam bowl from the pantry. I'd then be faced with choosing the orientation of the F.S. Gravel Bowl, and I can't remember if it is supposed to have a northwestern or northeastern exposure.
The margin for error is too slim. I'd better not risk a hex.
Jared made me laugh that day. He couldn't decide if he was annoyed or interested in the Shui, though he couldn't help himself from talking strategy.
I like it when people use Shui and Feng as verbs. "Well, that dress would look nice if we shui'd it a little bit......Did you notice how he hadn't feng'd his crystal chalice to the source of water? How trite."
I hear gravel is fine so long as it's hanging in front of an eastern window and you paste a Gandalf cottonball beard to the side of the bowl. That's just what I hear.
Is nothing sacred to you two? You can NOT use cotton balls for the beard. Only dried sea-weed off the Oregon coast works--unless, of course, you want to risk calling out all the Chinese dragons from hell to peck at your eyes.
And "Styrofoam bowl from the pantry"--good line, Tanner; Sure. We all know lawyers eat fresh lobster for breakfast from hand-painted, gold dishes. Next, you'll try telling us Santa Claus is REAL. (And, don't start with me, Em. I'm not wasting any more of my eternal existence proving to you he does NOT exist, Girl. Get over it.)
hahaha!!
You're right about the seaweed, that is much better.
Will algae out of the municiple settling pond work? Gas is a little steep these days for a seaweed run to Garibaldi.
As for Santa - I can neither confirm nor deny a position that he is, in fact, real as the Olympic "Mist." Though, I find it difficult to discredit the validity of a figure reverenced on a global scale. Something happens each December; be it a general naustalgia for the dying year, or a mass re-prioritization in anticipation of the waking year. Santa's as good an explanation as any.
When I bought the rock salt, I took Sarina (game for anything) with me to K-Mart. We couldn't find "rock salt," so Sarina asked a K-Mart guy while I hid behind the towel section. "Don't ask those guys, Sarina; they know nothing. Then I get embarrassed because they get embarrassed as they try to cover up that they know nothing." But, she grabs this guy and, guess what? Yep. He looks around for awhile, then, bless his heart, he asks two other people. Finally, they get the manager, who whisks by us,
"It's down here with the cones. You're making ice cream, huh? Wow, I wish my wife would learn how to make ice cream."
I try to trip Sarena as she opens her mouth to tell him I'm Feng Shuing my house, but, oh no, every WC assistant I've ever hired has such a big fat mouth.
He stops in the middle of the isle and says nothing. Just stands there.
Sarina, whose neck I'm going to wring when we get outside, looks at me and waits. "Well, it's sort of, ya know, kind of like...it's an old custom, kind of Chinese, it's to get out bad energy, ya know, from the corners of your house?"
The guy, I swear, stands still for a full minute. In his mind, he's flipping through his K-Mart manual to find the page for "crazies." Sarina finally sees I'm drowning again at having to explain myself to other people and says, "It's like Voodoo." She takes the salt out of the guy's hands and throws a "Thanks" over her shoulder, and for just a minute I feel a tinge of total admiration for her.
Now, Tanner, the reason it has to be sea weed is because of the salt. Get it? Pond scum--even pond scum from Boise--doesn't have salt.
Quit messing around. You're scaring me. I think it's having the two offices. You're split in half, and two halves, my child, don't make a whole. I mean, where do you keep your spare change for homeless people? Your reading material for the bathroom? In which office do you have pictures of you and your wife hugging? Or, do you just buy two of everything for each place? It baffles my mind. I think you should sincerely consider hiring a Feng Shui expert to help you out. (Or start a blog for us to visit. Heavy writing, using your deep repertoire of metaphors, will get you right again in no time. Don't you need to name what you're going through?)
And the word for Santa is not "nostalgia" (It's OK, none of us on this site can spell); it's big fat "Commercialism."
Sharon, obviously you don't have little ones in your house...Santa is far more than commercialism...he is the embodyment of everything that is wonderful about Christmas and its surrounding season. Just try to remember how special he was to your kids when they were little and you will agree with Tanner.
I think that it is funny that you make fun of Tanner's spelling, when you spell Serena at least 3 different ways in your post. (I sure do miss that little bubbly lady.)
Oh one more thing...I agree with Sharon, Tanner you need a blog.
Jen, Jen, Jen, how come I never hear from you except when you're yelling at me. And I said none of us can spell.
By the way, it's because I had to play Santa for over 40 years that I hate him. Even when I had help, I didn't. I married men who believed you should shop the day before Christmas (try that with six kids and in-laws) and spend a lot of money we did not have. Because of that, I always spent months ahead trying to find bargains and spread money as far as it could go, then was always so tired on Christmas day that I hated the thought of cooking the big family dinner also. Yep. I got real tired of a fat, stupid symbol who took over our celebration of the Savior's birthday getting all the credit, when I did all the work.
And, while I'm on a roll, I also remember the first time I got disillusioned with the church. I slammed through our front door and yelled at my parents through lots of tears, "You lied to me. This church is not true. It's like Santa Claus: you just made this whole thing up to make me be good."
When the kids are young, I will agree, it's good--even fun; you leave those cookies out and pretend SC took a bite out of them (Oh, it hurts me now to think I really did that), but just wait, Jen. You will hear my words in your ears someday. Nope, I can't endorse SC. He places the focus on getting instead of giving. I endorse Christmas, but not SC.
I'm sorry...I understand why you hate Santa, but I still love him. As I was going to bed last night, I thought of the most beautiful comment for you, but since it was right before I went to sleep, I have forgotten it. It had something to do with how much I loved the post you did right after this one. How it made me miss you, and in turn miss Em and all the other Writing Center people that I loved (not the ones I didn't) and miss Rexburg in general. Philly is fine and I have even made some good friends, but it was in Rexburg, especially in the WC, that I think that I was one of the best versions of myself. I can attribute much of that to you. So there you go...no yelling in this comment, and I have to say that at least I comment on your blog!
This thing ate my post. I find no satisfaction in attempting to re-create my whit, but it went something like this:
Spelling is, and always will be, subjective. Some people hear a 'creak' running over rocks, but I've only ever heard it 'crick' down to the Snake. It used to be 'Debwaa,' but then it landed in Southeast Idaho and turned 'Dooboyz.' Bear Grylls has taught me how to survive on a 'glassyier,' but I've only ever seen a 'glayshier.' You say 'no-stalgia,' but I'm not offended by the stalgia and say 'naw-stalgia.'
You can't hold commercialism against Santa. He's got plenty - over six billion peeps worth - on his plate. He's no more responsible for the Tickle-Me-Elmo than Joseph Smith is for the CTR ring.
"Naw-stalgia." Tanner, you are funny. Flip into your logically law mind and "naw-stalgically" define some terms for me: Christmas? Santa? I want to see some of that money you spent on a law degree working? (Someone told me once that their sense of humor turned to cynicism in law school--and again when they were called to be a Bishop. Do you agree?)
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