Pool Shark

Enter the CAPTION CONTEST now!

The Sciolist Cell Phone Pic of the Weeknot-™ is published each week with the intent to entice readers to comment. This is accomplished with a CONTEST! The winner will receive a blog nod in the following week’s post-what a TREMENDOUS prize. Entering is easy. Just click on Comment below, fill in the identification information requested and enter your caption for the above picture as your comment. You have until Larrie posts the following Wednesday’s pic to enter.

Ready… GO!*

Last Week’s Winner: Give it up for KAAKUN! I chuckled when I thought of my mom knowing how to twitter. Right now, I’m just proud of her for texting, using Facebook and visiting my blog. And to fill in your blank, Kaakun, Hobbes is her 10th grandkid, but it’s the FIRST that shares a name with an imaginary, stuffed tiger.

*And by GO!, I mean COMMENT!

An Unknown Toy on the Island

Okay, fine. Go ahead, internet. Blame me because you’re right: it probably IS all my fault that I STILL don’t know people in my new ward nor do they really talk to me.

But one of the things that I liked the MOST about my old ward is that the regulars would go out of their way to meet and greet the not-so-regulars or the new folks. My new ward, however, basically stinks when it comes to fellowshipping. Either that or I keep on coming to church with a scowl on my face that says: LEAVE ME ALONE; I’M TOO GOOD FOR YOUR ISLAND. I don’t THINK I have a scowl.

Yesterday was the third time attending my new ward and I didn’t exactly make it to all of the meetings. Please forgive me for watching the Eurocup Final, which is only on once every four years. I went straight to church after the hottest goal keeper in Eurocup history, Casillas, lifted the trophy over his head. Hooray Spain.

Back to church: I slipped in and sat on the back row for sacrament and was quite impressed when the organist busted out some impressive pedal work and stop pulling accompanying the congregation on The Star Spangled Banner. After the meeting ended, I sat around on the back bench watching as the ward gathered in little groups and some people stared at me a little bit. At this point, you’re probably thinking, get over it already, get some guts and go up to one of those groups to introduce yourself.

Instead, I got up and went to find the Bishop to give him my tithing. After handing him the envelope, he gave me this look that I’m quite sure translated into “you look ALMOST familiar, but I really can’t put my finger on who you are, even though there are only 60 people in my ward, so I’m just going to ask a vague question while I back into my office.”

Bishop: “How’s life?”

At this point, I suddenly realized how much I had taken for granted the outreach that occurred in my previous ward. If I was the new girl in my old ward, after a month the following would have happened:

  • I would have been introduced in Sunday School followed by a group “Hello Larrie!”
  • The bishopric would have visited,
  • The Bishop would have met with me and asked about previous callings, whether I play the piano and how my dating life is going,
  • I would have been recruited to either the Lindsey or the Larrie fan club by one of the RS sisters,
  • One of the girls without a car would have called me for a ride to an activity,
  • I would have given a talk in sacrament meeting,
  • I would have given a prayer in sacrament meeting,
  • I would have a calling and not one of those made-up callings like the BYU wards (one of 20 FHE co-chairs, RS 2 newsletter coordinator, ward greeter),
  • And Alaska, Smooth Operator and Joel-in-the-box would have asked me out because that’s how they fellowshipped.

And that’s just a start…

I lied to the internet about my departure from the Island

It’s true; I’m a terrible, no good person because I lied to the internet when I told you that I had slipped away from the Island of the Misfit Toys without even whispering good bye. I lied because of two things: one, I just relocated to a different location on that same island and, two, the Toys secretly set up a little soirée to properly say goodbye.

I’ll have you know, however, that Saturday night, Maren lied to me. I can’t believe my little sister lied and I didn’t even catch it. I must have been too tired because I had stayed up until the early morning hours the night before watching movies (yes, that word was purposefully plural) on my NEW TV at my place.

Back to Maren lying: Saturday afternoon, we went to a shower for my cousin and I was reminded that he and his fiancé probably have several toasters now from well-wishers and I don’t have one… yet. (P.S. If you’d like to send me house warming gifts, I’ll take an iron, ironing board, cleaning supplies, toaster, blender, mixer, or a Mac, thank you.) During the shower, my cousin, Ster sent me a text inquiry about the possibility of getting together to play Rock Band. Side note: I have finally realized that I spend A LOT OF TIME with my family and while I don’t think of that as a bad thing, there are some who think it’s a bit too much like reality TV version of [insert your favorite 1970s sitcom here, e.g.: Partridge Family or Brady Bunch]. I told Ster that I couldn’t make it to band practice because of the massive amounts of homework I needed to take care of. I also informed Maren that this was the case and my reason for turning down an evening of rocking out with the Campbells.

“Oh, well do you want to just go to dinner with me after my soccer game tonight? Like at eight?”

I briefly thought about turning this down as well, but one hour wouldn’t be so bad to take a break from writing a proposal for my class.


I went home after the shower and started unboxing books. Turns out, I have a lot of those and before I knew it, I was exhausted from the memories (ah, the SWEET memories of reading McTeague and The Golden Bowl; nothing better than depressive, American literature) of sorting through all of my books and it was now 7:00 p.m. I took a nap.

I woke up with enough time to brush my teeth and then drive up to Maren’s. I briefly thought about calling her to suggest meeting at a restaurant halfway, since gas is SO AFFORDABLE these days, but then I realized that deciding where to eat over the phone can be a difficult task for the two of us. It would be easier to spend ten minutes standing in her kitchen trying to decide.

When I got there, Maren grabbed her keys and said, “I’ll drive.” We usually have to arm wrestle to see who has to use their precious gas. Nobody just volunteers THAT. And then we left.

I got in the car wondering why we hadn’t decided where to eat yet.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

The conversation was starting out as usual, except for the fact that we’re already driving so I’m not sure how she decided that she would turn right off of her street. WHAT ABOUT ALL THOSE RESTAURANTS TO THE LEFT?

“How about the Soup Kitchen?”

I wanted to go somewhere cheap—obviously. And then I started talking about how I was going to order the egg salad sandwich.

“And what soup, she asked? Do you think they’re still open?”

I hadn’t decided on the soup, but I sent Google a text to get a phone number and make sure they were still open. I was starving.

At this point in the game, Maren pulled into the parking lot of the church.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to pick up something from the church.”

I started to realize that she had been lying to me the entire time. Well, I almost started to realize. First, I asked if there was a ward activity because there were so many cars in the lot that I knew belonged to misfit toys. And then I realized. WE WEREN’T GOING ANYWHERE TO ORDER ANY EGG SALAD SANDWICHES.

I walked inside of the church and there, standing around in the gym with snacks and Guitar Hero, were many misfit toys, excited to yell surprise at me. I turned around and went for pizza.

Okay, so I came back and brought enough pizza to share. Maren paid for it—to make up for all the lies.

We played Guitar Hero (with limited songs because apparently, nobody has WON any yet). People played some sort of games in a circle on the other side of the gym (I have no idea what they were playing because it was too far to walk). They busted out karaoke. They started to clean up the snacks around 10:00 p.m. so I asked Joel-in-the-box to go and collect the Doritos. Maren called Ster and had him come over and get his guitar fix for the night. Thankfully, it was a party not just for myself, but also for Alaska, and Aaron (since we’re all leaving/or have left this month). And I left the party at 10:30. It’s sad, I know, but I really did have homework.

When I got home, I turned on my TV and selected a QUALITY movie with Hillary Swank and Mark-Paul Gosselaar, Dying to Belong, from On-Demand and turned on the laptop to attempt homework. Eventually, I went to bed, only to wake up the next day and go to a new singles ward and find out that I had relocated to a different neighborhood, but hadn’t left the island. Perhaps I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.

P.S. Thanks to Canadia for putting this together, and I heard that Heather was involved, too, though she was MIA from the dorito-eating part-ay.

Farewell to the Misfit Toys

I imagined that when I left the island, there would be a large gathering of toys to send me off. But, it turns out, if you leave quietly near the end of Gospel Doctrine, nobody realizes that you’re gone for good. I could have stood up, demanded a little attention from the teacher and said, “Goodbye all you toys. Good luck with your new leader and come see me if I’ve decided I like you enough.”

Then I make a big, dramatic bow or curtsy, depending on how well the audience responds to my farewell address.

Don’t you think it would have been a standing ovation—at least from the misfit toys that feel they’ve made the Larrie-likes-you-enough list?

I think so.

But I didn’t say a word. I just stood up and walked out. It was sadly anticlimactic and I should have chosen a better farewell just for the sake of something dramatic to share on this blog. So let’s say this is how it really went down:

Near the end of Relief Society, when we left some time for testimonies, I stood up and told everybody that this would be my last week. I hear gasps, some wipe away tears, and Maren shrugs her shoulders. With the smell of pot roast wafting into the room from the kitchen next to us, all eight of the women there on Sunday get up to cry about how much they’ll miss me and that the sing-alongs in FHE will never be the same again. Then they wonder if anybody will REALLY pull another all-nighter and freeze around the campfire because the wood is locked up in the truck. Another sister stands up to share with us how for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel so white, since there was somebody else in the ward who COULDN’T TAN just like her.

After Relief Society, we try to start Gospel Doctrine, but the word gets around quickly to all nine of the men that this is it for Larrie. They shake their heads and frown. One asks, “How am I ever going to REALLY make it through THREE WHOLE HOURS OF CHURCH EVERY WEEK without a scribble session on the back of the sacrament meeting program?” But to bring the spirits back up, Joel-in-the-box reminds everybody that now they won’t have to look at my only-slightly-deformed toe when I wear sandals to church anymore. Phew.

And with that, I curtsy while they stand and cheer because THE TOE is moving on to a new ward where she might find another polka-dot elephant. Perhaps.

Currently Living Out of Boxes

I’m recovering from this weekend, but I’m quite certain it’s going to be a slow, long recovery judging by the numbers of boxes in my NEW CONDO. I swear, those boxes multiplied and replenished the 2nd bedroom while I was sleeping. One day, I anticipate that I will actually know where to find my toothbrush or the kitty’s medicine (one of the boxes ate the syringe).

Larrie is officially a homeowner

Well, make that a condo-owner.

According to Abe, “This place was small, but now it’s a home.”

Finally, I have my own home, even if there are many boxes raising families inside (I start charging rent in June) and pictures leaning against walls where they will one day hang. However, last night, my dad helped me to hang a fabulous and mightily large painting in the living room. I HEART my new place. Seriously.

Boxing for many hours

After closing with the title company on Friday, then grabbing some food at The Dodo with the parents and Maren, the boxing began. At first, I walked into my bedroom and began dancing around on a small footstool with my magic wand, but nothing would fly into the carpet bag on the floor. Turns out, I would have to MANUALLY LABOR to box all of my books and shoes. Eleven boxes later (sometime on Sunday night), the books were off the shelves and into little white boxes. Good thing I have a large bookshelf. One day, those same books will be OUT of those boxes and onto that large bookshelf. On that day, I shall celebrate.

I took a few breaks between boxing. I slept for a few hours on Friday night. I stopped by Jennie’s and Jarv’s new place Saturday morning to scrub the bathroom floor for a bit. I picked up the keys to my new place from the seller’s agent. Ooo, and I went to Lagoon. That was a fabulous break with Maren, Alaska and Joel-in-the-box. The Catapult, I’ll have you know, shoots you very high in the air. I told this to Joel, while we were shooting through the air. Just in case he hadn’t noticed:

“We are SO HIGH!”

By Monday morning, I had shut my last box, just a short time before Todd and Mary Lynn came with their trailer and Mick came with his Suburban. The rain was absolutely fabulous, too! I really wish that the next time I move, it rains on my mattress. It’s okay though, internet, because it was under the tarp while I “helped” James and Joel put it in the trailer. (I put the tarp on and followed them up the driveway. Good thing I work out and have such HUGE muscles.)

Speaking of muscles

Everything—table, chairs, couch, entertainment center, bookshelf, bed, dresser, shoes, books—was loaded in an hour. Clearly, I didn’t do that on my own. The moving crew showed up which consisted of brothers, my parents, their friends and a few friends from my ward (and Jon—who I didn’t forget, but the sentence was getting too list-y and wasn’t reading very smoothly, shucks). Thankfully, all of the muscles came to help.

Just try to imagine: I’m standing inside the dining area of my new home watching as four men are standing on the grass lifting the 6’x6’ bookshelf up over their heads, to the three men standing on my little balcony/porch to lift that same bookshelf over the railing, flip it, twist it and suddenly, it’s inside against the wall. IMPRESSIVE! Within an hour, my new home was filled with the “everything” mentioned earlier and the bookshelf AND entertainment center came in by being lifted up over the railing and in through the sliding door.

Sleeping in my own place

Minyo, Pogi and I slept in my new home last night. Correction: I slept a little bit; Minyo and Pogi investigated all the corners of this tiny new place. I am still in awe with how quickly everything was moved and quite grateful for the help of family and friends—especially the help of men with muscles. (Thanks Mom, Dad, Mary Lynn, Todd, Mick, Abe, Pete, James, Maren, Joel, Lindsey, Loni, David, and Jon!)