There's not enough crime in Utah to go around. The cops here are seriously! so! bored!
I first suspected it when I got sent to traffic school for stopping after the stop sign rather than before the stop sign, because you can't see the oncoming traffic if you stop before the stop sign.
"I know the stop sign is in a weird location," said the cop, "but the law is the law, and it's my job to enforce it. Besides," he added, "I'm bored silly."
And then my hub got pulled over for going 7 miles above the 20 mph speed limit.
And then a fight broke out in the park behind my house between a couple of Junior High boys. My thirteen-year-old son saw the whole thing go down and said, and I quote, "it wasn't even a good fight." (This from a boy who grew up in Hawaii.) Apparently there weren't any big Samoans involved or any punches thrown. It was just two scrawny kids rassling around on the grass. Someone alerted the proper authorities and within minutes seven cop cars were swarming around the boys.
Saw it with my own two eyeballs.
I like to imagine the cops all lounging around the station playing solitaire when they got the call and suddenly sprang into action, all seven of them at once, fumbling with their jackets and tazer guns and handcuffs and numchucks shouting, "I GOT THIS ONE!" over each other.
Hee hee hee
What we need is more crime. And less seminary teachers.
Was that rude?
It's just that my daughter's seminary teacher is a little . . . intense.
In Hawaii the 6 a.m. seminary hour was her favorite part of the day, but here in Utah she comes home saying things like "ARG! The church has too many rules," or "UGH! My seminary teacher says the weirdest things. They were never this weird in Hawaii." (This from a girl who is nearly finished reading the Book of Mormon for the 5th time.)
"Well honey," I said, "They go to school and get paid to be weird here in Utah. In Hawaii they just volunteered to be weird."
This conversation took place on Friday afternoon while we were stretched out on our backs across the trampoline soaking up something unfamiliar. The name escapes me, but it's that warm, bright, burning ball of gas that sits high in the sky.
Anyways, point is, it was a particularly lazy conversation in which our eyeballs were closed but our minds were open.
"My seminary teacher says that you have to be worthy to see Christ. Is that true?"
"Hope not," I said.
"He says it's sorta like we're going to need a ticket to see Jesus."
"What like a concert ticket?" I asked.
"Like you have to get an interview with the bishop to make sure you're worthy to get a ticket to see Jesus."
My hub was there too, but he was snoring on the other side of the tramp so he was of little use to me as images of a meadow of wild flowers and me running in slow motion to greet my Savior danced in my head. In my head Mozart was playing in the background, but he stopped suddenly as soon as Jesus asked me for my ticket.
I'm sure I will have a ticket when the occasion arises, although I probably won't be able to locate it, or, with my luck, it will be expired.
Sometimes professionals make me want to poke my eyes out.
I tried my best to navigate the complexities, as my hub was busy sawing logs, but there were other things my daughter was not pleased to learn. The location of the Garden of Eden in particular. "Ewww," she said, "of all places . . . Missouri? Why not New Zealand?"
That's what she wanted to know. Why not New Zealand.
I've since heard her ask a few different people this why-not-New-Zealand question, but my MIL had the best response by far.
"Missouri is really beautiful from what I hear," she told my daughter, and then she paused, but not for dramatic effect, "although frankly I would have been thrilled if the Garden of Eden had been in Provo. Just saying."
Sometimes unprofessionals make me want to poke my eyes out too.
To me it seems like such a straight forward answer. "New Zealand? Really? The Gads would be crazy to have Middle Earth and The Garden of Eden share the same venue!"
You get me?