Today I'm going to prove to my peeps, once and for all, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I'm both dumb AND dumber.
Real dumb. And real, real dumber.
So you know I just got back from trek, right?
Well, the theme this year was: Tell your story, tell your story, TELL your FREAKIN' STORY!
In order to make trek more meaningful, we, as fearless leaders, asked/encouraged/pressured/bullied each trek participant to trek in honor of one of their pioneer ancestors. We challenged our youth to become super duper familiar with their ancestor's story so they could share it with other trekkers along the way.
The stake even came up with a brilliant bead system where one could swap colored beads with other wards every time one told one's story. The one who secured the most colors won. (Well, they didn't actually win, per say, because there are no winners or losers, but they WON, if you get my drift.)
Besides pelting each other on the bus, this bead system seemed like a lame idea to the youth, but it made for incredibly competitive leaders who scrambled around interrupting conversations in order to unload their story and secure colored beads.
To go along with the colored bead system, and the tell-your-freakin'-story theme, each trekker wore a laminated necklace bearing the name of the person for which they were trekking.
Lucky for me I just so happen to have a very interesting set of pioneer ancestors who were part of the Martin handcart company. There is a painting of them hanging in my grandma's home in Mt. Carmel.
J/K peeps! J/K. No, I'm not a descendant of a famous painting.
Here are my real pioneer ancestors--my great great great grandparents, Elizabeth Xavier and William Tate:
Somehow, due to extenuating financial circumstances and the fact that Elizabeth was pregnant, they had to take separate boats to America from England after they were converted to Mormonism. Elizabeth ended up traveling across the country with the Martin handcart company and William ended up being part of the rescue company that saved her.
He didn't glisten or suck blood or howl at the moon, but it was a romantic gesture nonetheless--except for the part where his newborn baby had passed away by the time he arrived.
Unfortunately I only have one set of romantic pioneer ancestors that I could think of off the top of my head so, being the unselfish mom that I am, I allowed my daughter and son to trek in their honor.
But then I forgot to find names for me and my hub. You know, because I was busy and stuff. And because I never think about myself, you know. I'm always thinking of others.
Needless to say, my hub and I were still nameless when the laminating lady called me and said I NEED YOUR PIONEER NAMES RIGHT NOW!
Fortunately I had just checked out a DVD at the library called Handcart: One Man's Journey With the Martin Handcart Company.
Not only was the story full of romance and sacrifice, there was faltering faith and redemption and conversion and a dramatic rescue at the river.
It was perfect.
So I innocently gave the laminating lady the names of the two main characters, Abigail Shipe and Samuel Hunter.
According to my hub I might as well have given her the names Isabella Swan and Edwardo Cullenson.
At least that's what he said on the phone when he called me the day before trek shouting:
"I AM NOT GOING ON TREK!"
He'd been doing some research about our names. And we all know what research does. It proves everything that we assumed to be true false.
"WE'RE TREKKING FOR FAKE PEOPLE!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.
oops. sa. daisy.
"I'M NOT TREKKING FOR FAKE PEOPLE!!!!!!"
He has his integrity after all.
Guess I shoulda woulda coulda checked into that before laminating their fake identities across our tags.
My hub demanded that I get new name tags laminated hours before take off, but our fearless leader said, "Too bad, so sad."
But first he said, "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
I assured my hub that no one would notice. How would anyone know? I mean trek is all pretend anyway, right? We're not REALLY pioneers. Why not trek for pretend people who are also pretending to be pioneers. Pretend people represent real people, don't they? huh? huh? huh? Life is just a big friggin' lie anyhow. Our little lie is just a microcosm of the bigger, grander lie.
These are the things that spew forth from a brain that is both dumb AND dumber.
It goes without saying that we didn't win the bead contest. In fact we didn't secure a single bead.
But if they ever swap beads for being the biggest losers . . .
(I still contend that it wouldn't have been that hard to play off had the bus driver not popped in that stinkin' Handcart: One Man's Journey movie for everyone to watch on the way to Wyoming!)
P.S. Good thing I'm YW Prez, eh?