It started out like a typical Sabbath. I got up, went to church, sang some hymns, listen to great wisdom from the pulpit, went to Sunday School, told some jokes in the hallway, and ended up with YW, YM and the Bishopric talking about the Word of Wisdom.
When I got home I made myself a salad. With cashews.
Chup read some Harry Potter. Is that Sabbath Day worthy reading material? I don't know, but I prefer not to judge. Anyway, it kept him quiet for most of the day. Normally he follows me around the house asking for favors like, "Could you please change the toilet paper roll in the bathroom. It is empty and I am male, therefore not equipped for such arduous and unredeeming tasks." And as I change the roll I ask him if "unredeeming" is even a word. Which is when he says something like . . . oh, I'm sorry . . . I forget myself . . . I don't air dirty laundry on my blog.
Later that afternoon in reflective moment, I came to the understanding that I need to say "thank you" more in my life. Just more verbalizing gratitude and less thinking it in my head (unless I need to thank a mind-reader.)
Then of course, as it goes, throughout the rest of the day it was an uphill--more of a mountain really--battle to remember this personal revelation.
My Dad whipped us up a masterpiece dinner with cooked summer vegetables, corn from the roadside stands and perfect potatoes. His culinary compilation is the best part of my whole week, s'what I like to say. And after my peach cobbler was devoured, I made my nieces say one thing nice about me. Just for kicks and googles.
"You are pretty" Chick said.
"You have pretty hair" Lo replied.
But instead of saying thank you, I just nodded like it was their duty to comply to their grumpy constipated aunt who lives across town and refuses to drink milk. Can you believe me?
Later as we left my parents and headed out to try the new road by the Riverwoods, I realized that I had--wait for it--forgotten to say thank you TO MY FATHER FOR THE DELICIOUSNESS MEAL WHICH IS THE SUNSHINE OF MY WHOLE WEEK! I know! I am going to Hades in a dutch oven!
But it gets worse.
When we returned home, I had to call a couple of my YW and gave them assignments for this week. By the third call I realized my constant ingratitude and shoved a rushed "Thank you!" in at the end of the phone call . . . WHEN SHE HAD ALREADY HUNG UP.
So it was apparent that I needed to repent, which I did quietly outside while watching the sprinklers. The constant back-and-forth water spray stimulates stress reduction. Try it, love it, just please don't knock it.
As I was in the depths of humility, my sister-in-law Suze showed up with all of her clever children to bring us homemade raspberry jam. Then we all inevitably started talking about Cougar Football and before you know it, they were driving away and I had missed my opportunity to say . . . well . . . you know.
I feel so sick.
But I'd just like to redeem myself a little and say to you, yes YOU reader, for ignoring the pleas of your children, or risking the notice of your boss, or swallowing the little bit of guilt you feel for spending too much on-line when there is clearly summer out there in the world to enjoy, just to read silly c jane every day, yes to YOU I'd like to say . . . oh dear.
I seemed to have forgotten what I was going to say to you.
But have you tried that new road by the Riverwoods? Fab-ul-lous!