I’m not going to lie about it: Sundays are the hardest day of the week. Here’s a little tip for anyone attempting to fargle up their co-religionists’ sabbath: cause that their church meetings should begin at one o’clock in the afternoon, and last in duration until four o’clock, at which point any chance of a decent family meal has been snuffed out like a fatuous candle in the wind. Yes, ensure that their ecclesiastical obligations start late enough in the day so that there is not quite enough time to do anything as a family either before hand or afterward. Make sure there are enough hours between sunrise and Sacrament Meeting so that the edict “No Wii Before Church” turns into an untenable, bottomless nightmare.
On top of that, the lesson for my Sunbeams was entitled I Am Thankful For My Hands. This reminds me of an absolutely nonpareil story involving my mother, but one that shall remain for another day. In any case, I decided to show my motley crew of three year old boys a ten-minute clip from Doctor Dolittle, because who more than he did “good things” with his hands? I dare you to think of a single person. I paid Callie a quarter to find the DVD, which I crammed into the side of the laptop on loan to me from my brother Daniel. It was only then that I realized my fatal error: the laptop has a tray-loading mechanism which I (witlessly) bypassed. Yeah. I just shoved the DVD into a crack in the side of my brother’s computer. Packed it right in there. To make it really clear, there was a crack in the side of the computer, into which I forced a DVD. And strangely enough, the computer didn’t work after this. It CERTAINLY didn’t play the DVD.
Anyway, I could go on, but what’s the point? I have marginally redeemed the day by putting together the title page for Dad’s 70th birthday album. To wit: