Lousy Geography on My Part

I chose a heart-themed love triangle picture in honor of the month of February.

In reference to my last blog, Person B isn't actually going toattend med school across any body of water from me. He'll be a mere thirty-five or so miles up the 101.  This certainly complicates the somewhere-between-like-and-love triangle even further.

Still, I'm not doing anything remotely close to the wild thing with either of them, I'm not promising exclusivity to either of them (nor they to me), and they know all about each other and actually get along.

Perhaps we could arrange  a male counterpart version of  Big Love. We could call  it Brother Husbands and perhaps have our own reality TV show.  I'm being entirely facetious, of course. The percentage of people with the level of education I hope to attain who marry someone they dated when they were barely twenty is quite low, I would assume. And when I eventually do marry, I wish for a monogamous relationship. Still, it's an interesting concept which someone more adventurous than I may wish to develop.

Neither video exactly depicts my situation, nut I'm in a 70's/80;s music mood, so I'm including both.

     This one overstates my case greatly, but what the hell?

This one's a bit melodramatic for my actual situation as well, but  what's life without melodrama?

I know I said there were two videos, but sometimes I lie. I came across a third I wanted to share even though it has little to nothing to do with my present situation. Enjoy.

P.S. I didn't have a strong opinion regarding the outcome of today's Super Bowl -- how does one decide which cheating coach's team for whom to cheer ? --  but didn't the near-the-end mug shot of the rather despicable Seahawk Richard Sherman's terribly sad face make sitting through the entire Super bowl worthwhile?

Insomnia runs rampant, but there are always the plygs, among other people and things, about which to think

I don't think I'll be awake until the sun comes up tonight, but I am still up into the wee hours, and not by choice.

The Colorado City polyg churches look a great deal like mainstream LDS churhces.

Looking at the picture of the polygamous sister wives caused me to think of the time a few summers ago when my pseudouncle, pseudoaunt, and I visited southern Utah for the purpose of catching a little polygamous activity. (It had been a miserable spring and summer for me, with serious injuries that were not healing fast, and this was supposed to be the equivalent to my trip to Disneyland to make up for the not-so-fun times of the summer.

We even attended  one of the Church services in Colorado City. (Looking back. it's hard to believe we had the nerve to even drive onto the compound, much less to barge in on one of their church services.)  The strange specially-ordered cast I had on my leg to allow air to heal my skin infections while holding my bones in place, in addition to the sling on my arm, made me look like a little crippled girl, which made them feel sorry for us.  Pseudouncle has a booming baritone voice, and i had, as I still have, the sweet little-girl soprano thing going on, so after hearing us sing the opening hymn,  the polygs invited us to sing a sing for them. Pseudoaunt bowed out. she can carry a tune but does not perform in public, and probably for good reason. We sang "O My Father" from the Mormon hymnal. The Jeffs' branch of the fundies  use, if I recall correctly, the second-most-recent edition of the mainstream LDS church's hymnal.

We had brought conservative clothing to somewhat dress the part.  None of us own prairie style clothing, but we had on stuff that was sufficiently modest.  We had already planned our "story." I was pseudouncle's daughter. My mother was dead. Pseudoaunt was his new bride, He'd tried out two other brides since my mama passed,  but they both left us to return to the secular and monogamous world.  According to our story, Daddy went to Juarez, Mexico to find a bride because the women there were reportedly more compliant. Pseudoaunt said as little as possible because she isn't good at faking a Mexican accent, but fundies like their women silent anyway, so it worked out well. she pretended not to speak English at all, and the two of us "communicated" through both of our very limited Spanish. peudouncle spoke to her in Spanish a lot, apparently issuing orders. he's fluent. She just nodded. i tried t talk pseudoaunt into pretending to be one of his daughters, too, but she said she didn''t look enough like him, and besides, it would be creepy.

My fondest memory of the entire trip was the homemade fudge that we bought at some mercantile or general store there. only God knows if the kitchen in which is was made was clean enough in which to prepare food for a pet rat, but god, the fudge tasted good. there were several flavors. We bought a bit of divinity, but mostly we bought  chocolate fudge and a brown sugar-flavored kind. I ate so much of it that first night that Pseudouncle made me stop because he was afraid I would get Montezuma's revenge despite not having crossed any national borders. He did swing back by there on our way home to pick up some more of the stuff, which we carefully rationed to make it last two weeks.

Driving through the streets of Colorado City and its twin city, Hilldale, was quite an experience.  The twin cities straddled the border of Utah and Arizona. The reason the cities were originally so located was that in earlier anti-polygamy days, if Utah authorities showed up to raid the place, all the polygs could run across the border to Arizona. If the Arizona authorities showed up for the same purpose, all the polygs would run across the border into Utah. It took the two states and the feds considerable time to coordinate their efforts so that the "run for the the border" plan didn't work.  thus we had the infamous Short Creek Raid." (The place was originally was called Short Creek.)

My feelings about polygamy are that it's difficult to justify making the practice itself illegal when others are allowed to have sex with whomever they choose, and to have children with whomever they choose, with no legal repercussions. On the other hand, I have problems with several aspects of it.  One of my issues is with their reported method of thinning the herd by kicking teen-aged boys off their compound before they really have the job skills to fend for themselves. Another of my issues is with  the rampant underage marriage and even with  those who wait until they are of age to marry but have  no experience with the outside world and, this, think plural marriage is normal and is the only way to live.  Another issue I have is with the inbreeding that occurs -- with the arranged marriages of cousins and even closer relatives, which promote all sorts of health conditions and birth defects, the most notable of which is fumarase deficiency. One of my most major issues with the fundies'  system is with them having, through multiple wives, more children, than one man and however many wives he has can possibly support. Thus, government welfare then becomes the primary means of support. I have the same conflict with the polygs using welfare in this way as I do with single mothers who have multiple babies  who they cannot support and whose fathers cannot contribute to their support. I wish something could be done to stop this abuse, as we're soon going to reach a point where too few of the working people re supporting too many of those who multiply like rabbits.

I wish there were a way to allow the adults who chose the lifestyle and were able to finance it to live their religion, while forbidding those who attempt to access government funding to support their way of life from doing so. Likewise, I wish there were a way to insure that young people were neither either kicked out of their homes and off the compound without adequate means of support , nor were girls ever allowed to marry before legal adulthood, Furthermore, i wish there were a way of forcing public schooling upon these people so that girls would know if only by association that the polygamous way of life was not their only choice.

Perhaps if the government could force, as a condition for allowing polygamous communities to continue to exist in our nation, , a period of Rumspringa (also spelled Rumschpringe) as the Amish practice, whereby the youth experience a period of life in the outside world before deciding whether or not to continue with the Amish way of life.  Jeffs' church, or the other polygamous sects around, should be forced to provide a decent stipend so that the young people could at least survive while experiencing the outside world. If the young adults wished to experience life more fully nd more luxuriously, part-time jobs could be obtained, but that's not always easy to do in the present economy, especially with no job history. Part-time jobs at Wendy's or McDonald's are not that difficult by which to come, but some subsidy from the church and community would be appropriate as well for a year or eighteen month, as it's doubtless that the church and community have obtained more than their share of free labor from the youth.

I would be more comfortable with a young woman choosing a polygamous lifestyle if I knew that she was aware she had a choice in the matter. Likewise, I'd feel better about the Lost Boys being tossed out were they to receive a year's worth of subsidy while they looked for work or honed job skills.

The current system, at least as practiced by Jeffs' followers and similar cults, is inadequate for all except for the relatively few men (and a few of their favored wives) who hold power in the local communities and in the churches, which are essentially one and the same.

Don't Think Twice . . . It's All Right

I know I said I was going to sleep a couple of hours ago, but some things are easier said than done. My dad says if I'm not asleep in an hour, he will intervene with pharmaceauticals  because he doesn't want me to get sick. Whatever, I'm getting a little tired of being awake  myself

Meanwhile, I may as well clarify things in my own mind by detailing the events that led to my latest break-up. Jared doesn't read this blog. His mother knows about it and possibly reads it on occasion, but she has six kids and manages the office for her husband's medical practice. She has better things to do than to obsess over the details of my love life, even if it does involve her son. Furthermore, she's not a blabbermouth. If push came to shove, she'd take her son's side, because there is that mother-son bond thing, but by the same token, she knows he's fallible. She wouldn't  further the rift by letting him know how the whole thing is playing out on the Internet. Furthermore, what I'm writing is true if biased. The conversations between Jared and my brother, by the way, are from the best of my brother's recollection. I trust his memory for details.

My brother Matthew called me to ask me the status of my relationship with Jared. I said as far as I knew, it was the same as yesterday, the day before, or a month ago. He asked if the relationship was supposed to be exclusive. I told him we'd never actually discussed it.  He told me that it was not exclusive -- that Jared had dated two girls twice each in the past two weeks. He said there could be more, although he doesn't know where Jared would find the time for any additional dating if he's    still attempting to keep his grades up, which one would assume he is. I asked Matthew first of all if he was sure, which he said he was, and secondly,  if I needed to deny having heard the information from Matthew. Matthew though about it and said no. Jared should know that Matthew would tell me if Jared dated someone else while he and I were supposedly in some sort of relationship

I didn't call or text Jared because I'm not a Jodi Arias-style stalker, even without the blood, gore, and homicidal tendencies. Two days later, which was a little less frequent that we had been speaking or texting, he called.  After the initial exchage of social pleasantries, I asked him if  he considered our relationship to be exclusive. I said I didn't want to put him on the spot, because we hadn't discussed it, and I had no right to assume that we had an exclusive relationship without hearing it from him.

He immediately jumped on the offensive, blaming my brother. "Matt called you and ratted me out, didn't he?" he demanded.

"Yes, he did," I answered truthfully.

"That asswipe!" he blurted in a manner unfitting for a young man who had submitted mission papers and was expecting a response shortly.

"He's my brother. I would do the same for him. In fact, I have done the same for him," I told him.

"That's different,' he muttered. "Girls blab. Guys are loyal."

"Loyal to whom? " I asked him.

He hung up on me.

The next day he ended up at an event Matthew was also attending. The two allegedly had words that were hostile initially but quickly grew more civil. Jared wanted to know why Matthew had told me,as he considered Matthew a close friend. Matthew told him that he wasn't totally sure where regular sibling relationships fit into the hierarchy of loyalty but twin trumps friend every time -- even best friend.

Matthew asked Jared about dating both of the girls at once - one a girl from school and one from his family's Mormon ward at home.  He asked if it didn't feel just a bit slimy to be leaading the two of them on, never mind me.  Jared answered that neither had any reason to believe that anything was exclusive at that point. Matthew said he disagreed - that if you take a girl out, then ask her on another date for three days later, she has a reason to believe you're not dating someone else in the meantime.

Jared asked if it was Matthew's Mormon heritage coming out in him. Maybe he planned to marry both of the girls he was dating.  Matthew told Jared he could probably forget about including me in the polygamous set-up, as he couldn't see me going along with it.

Jared was understandably miffed at Matthew's dragging of religion into the discussion, but Matthew said that LDS boys who two- or three-time girls are asking for  polygamy jokes at their expense.

"Well, I'm not exactly dating either of them anymore," he confessed.

"Why?" Matthew asked, mildly surprised.

It seems that he had explained his upcoming mission dilemma to both girls -- that he had filled out papers but was waiting to see the location and timing before he made a decision for certain as to whether or not he would go. The Mormon girl flipped her lid and told Jared not to bother calling her until he was committed to serving a mission. The other girl was equally upset, and told him not to waste her time if he was considering taking off for God knows where for two whole years, and that she did not want to hear another word from him until if and when he had made a permanent decision not to go off on one of those "Mormon missionary things." Jared apparently is attracted to cerebral women. I hope that doesn't say anything about me.

"It sort of makes Alexis look better all the time, huh?" Matthew commented to Jared.

"Yes,but I'm not sure that's the dorection I should be going, either," Jared responded.

"Maybe not, but before you call her again, if you call her again, make up your mind what it is you want. If it's a casual relationship, be up front about it. If you expect a relationship to be exclusive, be up front about that, too. But hold up your end of the deal. Don't tell her the two of you are in a steady relationship, then feel free to date someone else."

"That's fair," Jared replied.

"I'm not sure  she wants you back, anyway, " Matthew added.

He's right. I'm not sure I want Jared back, either. Too many things are up in the air right now, with his mission being the most cumbersome of them all. Then there's the issue of whether or not either of us wants to date the other, what sort of relationship we'd want even if we did decide to see one another in some capacity, and whether or not I can trust him enough to have any sort of relationship with him. Maybe neither of us is mature enough to be involved in anything more than a fun-and-games occasional trip to the beach or some campus function when he happens to be around. Or maybe he really wants to go on his mission.

I'm certainly glad I never gave up my viriginity to the guy, not that he was pushing me hard in that direction, anyway. Regardless, however rotten I'm feeling  now, it would be worse if I had let the physical aspect of the relationship go any further. I don't feel as though I have to hang onto my virginity forever. Depending upon my schooling situation and how long I wait before marrying, I may not hold out until marriage . . . Or then again, I might. Nevertheless, it's not something to be given away lightly, and not to be a prude, but I'm certainly glad to have held onto it for at least this far.  I'm feeling lousy and generally used, but had I allowed him to take that from me, I would be devastated.

Physical Therapy Is Getting In the Way of My Keeping Up With the Warren Jeffs Trial

If anyone out there is looking for a career change and doesn't mind putting in a few more years in college, I have a field to recommend: physical therapy. My reason is that basically everyone recovering from any illness or injury is now being referred for physical therapy. I had pneumonia and a ruptured appendix. People have been recovering from such ailments for the better part of a century, and those who have succesfully navigated their way back from death's door (it was a little trickier a few years ago when surgical techniques were not so refined and antibiotics were not so plentiful) generally have done so without the benefit of a physical therapist's assistance.

After I had surgery, I stayed in the hospital for more than a week. Then I came home (to a hotel in this area) to be babysat by my parents for a week while I gradually regained strength. That's the way it's always been done. In this enlightened age, however, the medical profession now knows that a post-pneumonia and post-surgery patient can recovery his or her strength oh so much more efficiently with the involvement of physical therapy. This s a win/win proposition for the physical therapists who work with me. I say this not because I am such a delightful patient, which I am, but that is beside the point, but because I am going to get well and regain my strength no matter what methods the physical therapists do or do not use. They could have me draw pictures with my toes in peanut butter on the floor, or spit chocolate milk through a straw, or just stare at the freckled assistant and try to count his freckles, as their sole methods of physical therapy and I would still regain my strength. It takes a little longer, but it's much like curing a mosquito bite or an uncomplicated case of hiccups: it's going to get better as long as you do nothing counterproductive. I'm their dream patient.

Anyway, Pseudoaunt was kind enough to record the coverage of Warren's trial. The coverage actually consists of the talking heads talking about what they saw and heard in the courtroom, as no live audio or video feed is allowed. As much as I'd love to see and hear it, the judge was probably wise not to allow Warren any more of a forum than he already has. I can't imagine how he'd be acting if he knew he had a live nationwide audience. I loved the way the judge sent the jury out while he rambled on and on about his right to religious freedom. Then, after an hour, she basically said, "OK. Now that we've heard this argument, anytime you wish to object on these grounds, just say, 'Objective Number One.' We've already heard all about it, so we'll know exactly what you're talking about. You don't need to go through the entire schpiel again." Brilliant!

A tape was played today in which Warren was instructing at least one underage female in specific instructions for meeting his needs. He supposedly went so far as to say what body parts were to be shaved, and exactly how. Jeffs' megalomania seems to be manifested in part in a bizarre need to immortalize everything he says and does with recordings, which is something that ultimately will contribute greatly to his undoing. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but an audio recording has to be worth at least nine hundred. The reporters said the directions Warren gave were too graphic and explicit for them to repeat on air.

My PseudoAunt is trying to monitor what I'm watching because she doesn't want me to start having Warren Jeffs dreams. She's particularly worried about the audiotape of the women restraining the twelve-year-old on the temple bed while Warren has his way with her. While the tape probably won't be aired on TV, even the discussion of it may be graphic. I'll go along with her wishes because I don't particularly want to have Warren Jeffs nightmares.

I may have a polygamy party, where everyone dresses up as a polyg or as a character in the trial if one cannot stomach being a polygamist. Pseudoaunt was experimenting with her hair, and she eventually achieved the signature FLDS forehead flip. That is the fricking ugliest hairstyle I've ever seen, and that includes the way Nick Nolte's hair looked in his mugshot, or the way Charles Manson's hair always looks. I'll have her do my hair that way as well.

If you're feeling under the weather, perhaps you are in need of physical therapy. If you need a new career, consider physical therapy. Physical therapy is the way of the future!

Sayonara!

Keeping Tabs on Warren Jeffs While Convalescing

I've beeen resting a great deal lately, partly because that's mostly what I felt like doing. My parents really don't want me to do much more than lie around in bed and watch TV, anyway. My surgeon released me with the assumption that I would spend about twenty-two of every twenty-four hours in bed. There's been so little to do that I've basically complied with all requests.

My mother thinks the reason that I've been so compliant is that I am going to ask for something really big, such as the right to make a large withdrawal from my saving account to buy a car. Right now that's the furthest thing from my mind. Driving where we lived before was a more-or-less routine procedure. Driving where I now live, with two-way-streets that suddenly curve and become one-way streets, constant road construction, very old stoplights that are placed randomly so that one would not notice them unless one already knew they were there, in addition to bona fide crazy people stepping into traffic without looking one way, much less both ways, is nerve-wracking to say the least. While I am licensed to drive, I'm not to eager to demand the right here in my present location.

For once, I'm not being cooperative because I want something. I just don't have anything better to do than to cooperate. It takes less energy just to do what my parents and doctors say than to be oppositional at this point. Someday I may return to my rather contrary personality, but right now I lack the energy. Why even think for myself when I can get someone else to do my thinking for me? (This is temporary. I will want my brain back eventually.)

We've been following some coverage of the Warren Jeffs trial. The polyg lifestyle has fascinated me since I first heard of it when I was a little kid. I couldn't believe I was hearing correctly when I first heard mention of it. "Now?" I remember asking my older cousin. "There are men married to more than one lady at a time right now?"

She told me yes and showed me some pictures of modern polygamists in a magazine. The pictures wouldn't have convinced me, even looking like modern color photographs with people wearing clothes straight out of "Little House on the Prairie" though their hairstyles looked vaguely extraterrestrial, were it not for the modern automobiles in the background.

My mom showed me on a U. S. map where the twin cities of Colorado City, Arozona, and Hilldale, Utah are. She told me that the cities were formerly called "Short Creek." Since that time when I was quite young, Warren Jeffs built a more deluxe settlement near San Angelo, Texas. This settlement featured a temple. Jeffs' temple on his ranch in Texas differed from conventional Mormon temples in that right next to the altar was a bed so that temple marriages could be consummated right then and there in the presence of witnesses. (While I'm often the first to criticize conventional Mormonism, I know many people who have been throughout multiple Mormon temples, including my Dad and my Uncle Steve, who are no longer practicing Mormons, and they all say that there isn't a single bed to be found in any one of the conventional Mormon temples. Jeffs also supposedly built up communities in South Dakota, Montana, and Colorado, though none so elaborately as the community in Texas. My cousin lived with an off-shoot group in Canada for several months recently.

Last summer, my Pseudo-Aunt and Pseudo-Uncle took me on an overnight trip to see the twin cities of Colorado City and Hilldale. There wasn't a lot to see, as most of the pwoplw actually lived in gated areas, but my uncle finagled an invitation to a church service for us. My pseudo-aunt was scared to death that one of the polygs was going to claim her as his fourteenth wife or something like that, but the visitation went without a hitch. We dressed like them. I was still in a really heavy orthopedic device between casts, so they thought I was a little crippled girl and they prayed for me. We pretended to be living The principle, except we told them I was ten and my mama died a few years ago and my new mama, who was sixteen (she was actually 22, but sixteen sounded better) was raising me until my father could find another wife to help her. While we were there, we bought some really good fudge from a shop there that makes and sells it. Warren was no where to be found at the time. I think he was already locked up in a jail somewhere.

I really wish his trial would be televised. it would be straight out of "Big Love." as it is, there will probably be reporters standing outside the courtroom, as in the Scott Peterson case, ready to share anything of interest that happens, and I suspect many things of interest will happen.

Even though her face is blurred out, the picture of the twelve-year-old girl kissing Warren Jeffs after supposedly just marrying him (I've seen the photo in a version where the young bride's face was not blurred) is positively sickening. If that photo is admitted into evidence, it would seem that it alone would be sufficient to convict Warren Jeffs. One never knows what juries will do, though. Still, the trial is being held in Texas. The people of Texas don't necessarily look kindly upon one's freedon to practice a deviant religion. warren Jeffs probably should have foud a more "live and let live" state than Texas for the site of his Yearning for Zion Ranch.

I'm very close to my Pseudo-Uncle, Scott. He's eleven years older than I, which is far closer in age than Warren Jeffs is to the twelve-year-old he allegedly married and was seen kissing in the infamous photo. I'm sixteen-and-a-half, which is considerably older than twelve, although I probably look younger than the girl does. Still, the idea of PseudoUncle Scott, who's not a blood relative (as likely as not, the twelve-year-old is probably at least a second cousin in more ways than one to Warren Jeffs)kissing me anywhere other than on the forehead or cheek would be positively repulsive to me or to him. And he's very good-looking. Warren Jeffs looks like a corpse that was dressed up and made up with mortician's putty and then came back to life.

Many people with Mormon roots have distant relatives in either Jeffs' groups or in one of the spin-off groups. My family didn't become Mormon until long after polygamy was made against official practice in the Mormon church, so, other than the one lunatic relative who hooked up with the Canadian polygamous group, I have no particular familial connection to polygamy. Still I'll be watching the trial somewhat anxiously.

Polygamy/one of my cousins hooked up with a group that is a off-shoot of Warren Jeffs' group, and now wants out

I blogged much earlier about one of my cousins, who was declared an old maid at the age of twenty-six. Her way of dealing with it was to join up with the some segment of the Blackmore cult up in British Columbia. If you're well-versed in the history of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, you'll know that the Blackmore group broke away from the Johnson/Jeffs group in the not-too-distant past and still retains some ties.

My cousin's parents weren't sure which was more humiliating: having a twenty-six-year-old daughter who was still single, or having her join up with the polygs. This in and of itself and without furhter evidence, plenty of which is available, epitomizes just how screwed up my dad's side of the family is. (Being hooked up with the polygs at least proved their daughter probably was not a lesbian, which made her choice of lifestyle perhaps the lesser of two evils, her parents thought. Becoming a heterosexual prostitute might have lent evidence along the same lines, but would that have made selling her body a viable option?) My grandfather, who is a relatively high-ranking mainstream (although calling any portion of the LDS church "mainstream" seems somewhat oxymoronic, akin to being a known as "a gifted tone-deaf singer") LDS official, has chosen to ignore the situation. (I have to admit that, as sorry as I feel for my cousin, it's gratifying in is own unique way to have someone in the family rank lower in the pecking order than I do for once, however temporary the status may be.) I will offer as a disclaimer that we all know Mormons who are good, upstanding, and apparently sane people. My relatives on my dad's side are not among that faction of the LDS church. My grandfather, who holds a relatively high-ranking poition in the LDS church, has convinced the rest of the family to join hom in his state of denial. (The state of denial and the State of the Deseret, when represented in the form of a Venn Diagram, show a large circle depicting the state of denial, while a much smaller circle, representing the State of the Deseret, lies almost entirely within the larger circle representing the state of denial, with only a tiny shard to the right of the larger cirle as you face it representing the State of the Deseret extending very slightly outside the circle representing the state of denial.) My dad's family does not occupy that tiny shard to the right extending outside the state of denial.

My parents and my Uncle steve have been concerned about this situation ever since they initially became aware of it. My Uncle Steve received a letter from my cousin last week. She said she wants out. She's not sure if they'll let her out. They have supposely told her she's free to leave as soon as her baby is born as long as she leaves her baby. (I forgot to mention that she's pregnant. I don't know how far along she is. For that matter, she could be experiencing a hysterical pregnancy. I've never actually known anyone who's had such a condition, but leave it to her to be the first.) Some church and municipal authorities (one and the same thing where she lives) have supposedly also told her she's free to go at any time and does not need to wait for the birth of her baby before leaving. My cousin told my uncle in the letter that it's not safe to attempt to correspond with her at the compound. There's supposedly a bar fifteen or so miles down the road where mesaages can be left for her.

I've seen Blackmore (his first name may be Winston; that somehow rings a bell) on a TV interview, and he presents as a far more reasonable man than do any of those nutcases I've observed on news programs in either Colorado City/ Hilldale or the Yearning for Zion Ranch in Texas. If I had to trust one of them, he's the one I would trust. Furthermore, this cousin of mine has typically by choice started off most games of Uno with more than a few cards in excess usual startubg amount of seven. (Uno's one of ths egames where onw wanta to be rid of one's cards as soon as possible; it's no advantage to steal extras. That would be like adding strokes to your golf score.) Between Blackckmore and my cousin, he could easily the more lucid of the two.

Still, she has claimed at least once that she's not being allowed to leave until the birth of her child, and not with the child once it's born. This seems worth checking out. Beyond that, she may be thousands of miles away from home with no means for getting home. This alone is a cause for concern. Her parents say she got herself up there. Let her get herself back. I'm not sure it's that clear-cut. She's a simple soul, despite a bachelor's degree, and her options are limited.

This young woman was made to feel that everything about her was so sub-par that she was willig to take a rather desperate step in order either to mke herself more socially acceptable or to get out of the situation that made her feek as miserable as she felt about herself. She is clearly in need of assistance. My parents, my Uncle Steve and Aunt Heather, and a sixty-year-old great Uncle on my maternal grandmother's side who still retains Canadian citizenship are planning to travel to British Columbia to bring her home nd help her to get her life back in order. They admit they have no idea how difficult or how dangerous this may be.

I'm a bit nervous about my parents undertaking this operation, but glad they're not doing it alone. I wish my mother and Aunt Heather did not need to go, as it seems that it could be potentially more dangerous for them. What if, for example, the polygs take a liking to either of them. My father says that the women will not accompany the men to the compound, but are instead there in the event that either ompetency is an issue or that my cousin may be in sohat hteolme sory of danger being released to the company of just three men. Still, what if some extreme polygs find out in what hotel my mom and my aunt are staying, I've seen those polygamous wome, and by comparison, my mom and my aunt are Jennifer Lopez and Cameron Diaz.

This operation will take place early next week. I'm still sick, and my mom will not leave until my fever and most of the symptoms are gone. This whole thing makes me terribly apprehensive, and I wish there were a simpler and safer way of getting my cousin out of there. I've seen too many episodes of "Big Love" not to be afraid of the bad things tha could happen. On the other hand, just think of the stories my cousin will have to tell when she gets out of there,

Bobby Flay, the Female Edition

The Pseudorelatives had dinner with some friends at their apartment tonight. I cooked teriyaki chicken and rice for them. Their friends brought some side dishes and dessert. It's nice to be able to help them. PseudoAunt could cook but she gets tired and needs to rest. They have a lady who cooks meals for them and delivers the food to their apartment about four nights a week. This works out fine unless the food is meatloaf and PseudoUnc is in a foul mood. I cannot say anymore un;ess I want to risk a Vitamin B12 overdose.

Last night I went with the Pseudos to a dinner for her that was hosted by her former colleagues at the elementary school where she taught. It was a surprise. I can scarcely believe that she didn't suspect something, because PseudoUnc practically gave it away about thirty times. He never told me, but I knew. I didn't know it was her teacher friends hosting it, but I could tell it was something in her honor.

The entertainment portion of the night last night was a skit where a guy who worked there who had really hairy legs wore a Halloween Pocahontas costume (I had no idea they even made such large Pocahontas costumes) and pretended to be PseudoAunt. She must have been a complete hoot as a teacher. The skit was based on some of her actions in the time she taught at their school. She was always doing something dramatic. One time a real brat went in a lake created by excess rain water. The kid refused to come out, and the vice-principal said his teacher had to go in and get him. His teacher was something like ten months pregnant, so of course PseudoAunt had to come to the rescue. The kid wouldn't emerge willingly, so what it basically amounted to was PseudoAunt and a kindergartner mud-wrestling for several minutes before she overpowered him and dragged him to dry land. (She's tiny.) The reason the guy wore the Pocahontas costume is that the sixth graders had started calling her Pocahontas behind her back because of her long black hair, and the name stuck.

I'm staying in Utah until Thursday night. Why the director is allowing my stay to continue for so long is a complete mystery to me, but I'll take it. I do hope we snowboard at least one more time, although I'm not asking because I would seem ungrateful when they've already taken me snowboarding three times to want to go again.

It's amazing that I've been here over two weeks and still haven't run into any of my relatives who live in the area. (That would be the good kind of amazing, by the way.) I usually run into them at least once every trip. I am going to a Mormon church tomorrow, which certainly increases the chance that i'll run into at least one. In the past they haven't been in PseudoUncle's parents' ward, but I think the ward boundaries were realigned since last summer.

I really wish we could drive down south and go to a polygamous ward. I wouldn't want to spend the whole day in services, as the polygs usually do, but an hour's worth of polyg church would be fun. When we went before, we dressed as polygs. PseudoUnc was my dad and PseudoAunt was my stepmom. PseudoAunt wanted us both to be his wives, but PseudoUnc said that was positively gross and would make him look like a pedophile. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he already looks like a pedophile. he looks his age, which is twenty-seven; his wife looks like she's about fourteen. (She's really twenty-three.)

PseudoUnc's nephew and I are going out for pizza on Tuesday night. I mentioned to PseudoAunt that if we ever went snowboarding again, it would be fun to invite him.He has school, but he could surely ditch for one day.

The Pseudos' company finally left. I'll go downstairs and wash the dessert dishes now. They don't expect me to do it, but I like to be helpful except when I'm at home. I'm helpful there as well, but not by choice.