I, too want to "count the ways" that I love my Chup, but you--a voyuerish third party person-- don't have to read it. You many not want to read it either. And besides, it might get racy at the end . . .
Chup read my script for the ward Christmas concert like a voice from heaven. "This evening we will first sing before we eat" he announced over the pulpit. After that he introduced each musical number (my favorite being "I Saw Three Ships" a tuba solo) with his booming God-like projection. I purposely wrote in a line from Luke 2 because I wanted to hear him say "And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid." He annunciated it so romantically (in a sacred-text sort of way) that I could've written "And, loopy, doopy, loppy lop . . ." and he would've made it sound just as wonderful.
During the program, I thought about The Chief and how he is a product of ours. How he is the personification of our connection. The representation of our eternal hope. And I thought about how nice it will be for The Chief to have bedtime stories told in Daddy's deep wide voice.
That night is started to snow.
Chup baptized our friend eleven-year-old Katie Larsen (formerly of the Larsen compound) in her Orem Stake Center. Of course it was an honor for us to be a part of Katie's big day. Before the service began, Chup practiced baptizing Katie so that she'd know what to expect. "I will hold your wrist so that you can plug your nose before you go under." Katie appreciated the tip. "Okay!" she replied.
After Katie was fully immersed, and we had sung the last verse of "I am a Child of God," we said our good byes to Katie's friends and family with peaceful spirits. Leaving the church we noticed a stronger storm had settled over the valley and visibility was close to zero. Dutifully my husband shoveled the church walks so that everyone could safely get to their car. At that point, snow flakes the size of potato chips were dripping from the sky.
It is Chup's passion in life to drive on snowy, slick roads. We took the freeway home and passed other cars creeping in the right lane. After Chup drove our yellow car safely to our front driveway, I sat in the warm car while he--still in his white shirt and tie--shoveled all the walks leading to the front door. When all was cleared I was ushered gingerly inside.
That evening we ate chocolates and drank Inca Cola. Straight up from the bottle.
Chup made potato latkes with beer. This was per my request as I find celebrating a bit of Hanukkah with every Christmas is the best of both worlds. He peeled, shredded and drained the potatoes. He added the beer, potato yeast and diced onion. He smashed, grilled and fried each latke until it was golden brown. It took a table of MD, Kentucky, Phun and me to devour a warm tray. Chup thought they were too salty. I thought they were juuuuust right.
After dinner we took a stroll downtown with Phun to scout out the candy windows. Though it had stopped snowing, we dodged sizable icy snowblocks while crossing the streets. At one candy window the display light was off making it hard to see. Just as Phun started to express disappointment Chup produced a flashlight from his puffy coat. We were able to view the first-place candy window a licorice-Mike n' Ike portrayal of the Y mountain and two kids on a hot air balloon. It was pretty impressive, but not as impressive as Chup having a flashlight in his pocket for the conceivable "just in case."
That night we . . . well, never you mind what we did.
Chup, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
1. Booming voice
2. The Chief
5. Driving Abilities
6. Shoveling Abilities
7. Inca Cola
8. Potato Latkes
10. Mad Hot Skillzzz
Oh yes, and . . .
I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!---and, if God choose,