Random Updates

What's new with me? Not a ton. But there's a lot new with almost everyone else. So...

The Seamstress is getting married. Obviously this is a good thing, but because of this everything is slowly being moved out of the apartment. Like the piano. And the TV. And the things we sit on. Also, it's been a while (think over three years) since we've had any turnover in this home, so that's a little jarring. But it's grand for the Seamstress to get to move on to the other parts of life.

Flower Child is also getting married.

So is Valiant.

Little Sister and Mr. Little Sister went to New York to visit Older Sister a few weeks ago. Not long before that, Rosebud and her husband were in New York. When they returned, Rosebud said to Little Sister, "Oh hey, there's this Jim Henson exhibit at the Museum of the Moving Image you might like..." And Little Sister was all, "YEAH I KNOW." Because the exhibit finally opened in summer 2017. And Little Sister got to go this month, and she geeked out a ton on Instagram, videoing the Cantus and Gobo puppets and the like. She brought us back nice Fraggle souvenirs, too.

Baby Sister is still loving the mish. Here's a recent email snippet that I found particularly amusing: 

Little Brother is starting to scare me on account of his Disney collection (which was augmented with the Robin Hood display piece over Christmas).

EARTHQUAKE HAZARD. BEAUTIFUL EARTHQUAKE HAZARD.

Dude, We're Getting the Band Back Together! I Mean Presidency.

You might have noticed that I've been feeling down lately.

This past summer was a real slugger, and there wasn't much of a chance for me to hit back. So it was kind of like I got punched in the face over...and over...and over again. After everything, I just felt restless, overwhelmed, and discouraged. There was a lot of "Woe is me!" going on inside my head.

In the midst of this grand pity party, I felt I needed to serve others more. I tried to look for opportunities to do so, and that seemed to help. Then the bishop of my ward asked if he could meet with me. He inquired if I would take on a new calling, and even though my entire life felt like a giant mess, I agreed.

It just so happens that four years ago exactly, I wrote about being a counselor in my ward's Relief Society presidency. Well, today, I'd like to share that as of about a month ago, I am the ward's Relief Society president.

For those of you who don't know, the Relief Society is the largest women's organization in the world. Among other things, the organization tends to the sick and the poor, first inside its local congregations and then without. A Relief Society president and her counselors and secretaries are kind of like women's ministers. They help the women in the congregation both spiritually and physically and take care of all the administrative stuff, such as assigning someone to visit each sister in the ward so that no one is left out or overlooked.

The ten months I served in the presidency with Madam President and La Petite were some of best but most challenging months of my life. So while I was excited for the opportunity to serve again, I was nervous about a lot of things—for example, time management, or the fact that the Relief Society president who preceded me is just about a literal angel. She's sweet, compassionate, and thoughtful. I feel that I tend to be abrasive. Maybe even obnoxious and disliked à la John Adams. I could go on, but you get the idea. However, in our church we believe callings are from God. I could only conclude that a) I'd have divine help to manage my time and b) my God either was okay with my abrasiveness or giving me an excellent chance to learn how to refine my personality.

The angel Relief Society president gave me some counsel. She said that she felt like her flaws were visible every day in her calling and that she had to learn to be patient with herself. Both of those things have been true for me x10. Every day, I realize that I fall short one way or another. Happily, I've been blessed with great counselors and secretaries: Flower Child, Vix, Valiant, and Rebecca. They have a lot of qualities that are sorely needed but that I don't have.

All in all, I'm doing very well. I don't say "Woe is me!" anywhere near as often because I don't have as much time to think about myself. I've been able to let go of a lot of things and entrust them to Heavenly Father. I feel really blessed, and I want to help others feel the same way.

In Which I Am Deformed

The day following Little Sister's wedding, I got out of bed and almost fell over. It hurt to stand. It hurt to walk. My ankles throbbed no matter what I did. The Achilles tendons seemed to be swollen and sore.

I figured, "Hey, I spent most of yesterday walking around in high heels. It's only natural that my feet would hurt." Never mind that that was hardly the longest period of time I'd spent on my feet and in heels. It seemed like a good explanation.

Only the pain didn't go away. It would recede for a while, but then it came back, no matter how many times I iced my feet or how much I stayed off them.

And then after that, summer began. Baby Sister left on her mission. Her presence in our family became a series of weekly emails, typed in her trademark frenetic style. Occasionally, something physical would come in the mailbox. Such as:

Seeing Baby Sister off was a good (but sad) part of the summer. It was one of just a handful of tolerable memories.

Things I want to remember about summer 2017: Starting Zombies, Run! with Baby Brother. Watching fireworks in Dr. Godfather's backyard. Conversing with the ward activities co-chair, Flower Child, on our way to and from activities. Dancing with Best Friend Boy to "Can't Stop the Feeling" at stake dances. The smell of the mountains. Marvel movies with my brothers. The multicultural fair at the end of the summer.

Things I want to forget about summer 2017: everything else.

There was the panic of almost having to move, the loss of Steve Whitmire as a Muppeteer, and a host of personal problems. Although I received a priesthood blessing on Mother's Day that helped eliminate most of my migraines, my right eye continued to swell up on and off. And through it all, my ankles were hurting madly.

Shortly before summer's end, I finally went to see a sports med doctor. The doc asked me to stand. He asked me to walk. He asked me to squat.

I did all of those things. I overthought them because under observation, but I did them. Except I couldn't really squat. When asked to squat, I became distressed to realize that I didn't really know how.

The doc then took an ultrasound of my ankles. He then informed me that it was quite concerning for a casual runner in her mid-twenties to have this kind of pain. He then informed me that I was deformed.

He didn't say it like that, but that was the gist. Apparently, my hips and legs are misaligned, which causes me to walk on my feet funny. It also causes the muscles in my hips and upper parts of my legs to be weaker than they should be. When I run, most of the pressure goes to my Achilles tendons. So my Achilles tendons are super swole, but they shouldn't be. They shouldn't be working that hard.

The doc told me to go to physical therapy to strengthen my legs and hips and to stop running for a while.

That did not sit well with me. Do I have time for physical therapy? No. And, with all the other issues I'd gone through in the preceding weeks, I didn't feel like my emotional health could handle not having the release of running.

It was one more trouble in a long line of troubles. I tried to trust in God that everyone would work out, but honestly, I was feeling pretty low.

When I told Baby Sister, here's what she said:

Cutie. I couldn't decide if that made me feel better or worse.