I know, I know. All of you are so excited for Themed Thursday tomorrow (and there's a good reason for it. Michelle and I have something splendid up our conjoined sleeves). But I will attempt to add a little bit of flavor to today's post just to even out your excitement for the week. I don't want you to get too psyched out on hump day.
I want an owl. (I swear this is going somewhere.)
So part of my duties as an assistant to the Summer Academic Programs Director is to check the mail. Makes sense. (PS, SAPD should be read in a "mustache" voice. This basically just sounds really hoyty-toyty. Use your imagination). Naturally, Justin and I check our own personal mail boxes at the same time as retrieving the program mail. But I do say "check" and not "retrieve" because that's all we get to do is check. There's no point to bringing back what isn't there. [insert sad face here]. I have received multiple confirmations that the letters I sent the past few weeks have been accepted into the homes and hands of those to whom they were addressed-and that I should be getting replies. Oh I long for those splendid days of smeared pen over paper. Ah, those are indeed my favorites. Plus it should give me something to do in the evenings. I have yet to stumble on a suitable hat pattern that doesn't make me want to commit genocide. Let's face it, I knit so I don't kill people-those kinds of aggravating patterns are counter-productive.
This is where the owls come in. I want an owl for two reasons. 1) To deliver my mail, that way I don't have to check it and be depressed all the time and I can just be really excited that my owl delivered my mail. 2) There's a sweet owl sweater pattern I found, but I want to knit a hat so it's just distracting. Boo. I mean Whoo....
Whooo brings me to the question Justin and I asked each other at lunch, "Who are these people?" The caf was simply flooded with all kinds of pimple ridden, braced out, and printed backpack wearing middle schoolers. Woof. (Not to be confused with Whoo, they are different animal sounds). And it turns out that Mormons flock where ever I am.
True Story. I live about 40 minutes from the exact location where Jesus is going to make his reappearance on Earth. Independence, MO. Look it up. So naturally, I assumed they just came up to MN to visit me! So far this theory appears to be less true, but I do have my hopes. My bigger concern is not what they believe (a Mormon just believes), but rather that there are so many middle schoolers. Ugh, those were some hard years amiright? There are approximately zero things that are good about middle school. I was lucky enough to have at least one phenomenal teacher, but quite honestly, that's the only thing I've got-and not every other kid can say that. There are hormones everywhere, and zits, and boys trying to be tough, and girls refusing to be civil (much less human), and more generally confused conniving adolescents who thrive on making each other miserable.
And all I have to say is God bless the teachers (and sometimes parents) who opt to put up with them.
I hoped that I had come up with a hoot for a last sentence to tie in the owl theme.