A Prayer of Thanksgiving

And so we give thanks...

Our Jimmer which art in Provo,
Hallowed be thy Game,
Thy Naismith come, thy shot go down
in N'Orleans, as it did in Denver.
Give us this day your double cross-over
And forgive us our doubts, as we forgive your doubters.
And lead us not into elimination,
but deliver us from Florida
For thine is the tourney, and the power, and the glory,

(All rights reserved).


A Few Complaints

I've come to a realization lately-- I don't blog as much because life is not crazy / hectic / karmically kicking me in the groin as it used to.  In short, I'm pretty happy and content--more so than at almost any point of my life.  You can blame erv for that.

While my literary ineptitude might be a little sad (you can't write when you're not feeling snarky, ebv?), I want you readers to rest assured that there are still things to complain about.

Here are a couple.

1.  Cell Phones at Funerals

Really?  Does this need to be addressed?  Sadly, yes.  erv and I went to a funeral of a dear friend a few weeks back and heard not one, not two, but three different cell phones go off during the ceremony.

Look, I understand that sometimes cell phones go off at bad times-- during class, in church, etc. I suppose that's part of the price we have to pay for easy, mobile communication.  But is our interconnectedness really worth the cheapening of sacred events?

The Children of Israel used to take off their shoes when they were in the presence of God or standing in Holy Places. I figure the least we can do is turn our phones off (or to silent) when we're in sacred space.

2.  Babies at Social Functions

A favorite saying of mine, thanks again to erv, is "Crying babies are like good intentions: Both should be carried out immediately!"   Sadly, that's too often not the case.

This one is similar to the cell phones at sacred events problem.  I understand that this might offend some of the baby-mommy-bloggers out there, but it's a slightly secret  straight-up pet peeve of mine.

When your young child starts to get fussy during church, at the play (why are you bringing it to a play?!), a movie (see previous parenthetical), a funeral, or any other social event where focus from the audience is placed on some central figure and quiet is a rule, please take them out quickly and deal with it.

Yes.  Your child is cute, adorable, bubbly, bright-eyed, talented, amazing, gorgeous, ... a literal superlative in baby form.  I get it.  But when your baby starts to scream and throw things, happy adjectives are swiftly replaced with one shared thought in every audience member's brain: "LOUD BABY CRYING!"

I think this is an evolutionary, unconscious response.  When we hear babies cry, we are hardwired to want to make them stop crying.  Make them comfortable and content again. It's a survival of the species thing.

But thankfully, we're not battling with saber-toothed tigers for survival anymore. 

So, when you see numberless heads turning your direction as your child acts up, it's not the adoring eyes of jealous parents wishing they could have the privilege of changing your child's magical diaper (your baby's mess is even adorable!), it's the eyes of some very annoyed people who wish you would hush your kiddo and would be willing to do it if the child were theirs, thank you very much.

So here's my request: don't simply pick up the crying child and rock them in the middle of a meeting in the hopes that your breathtaking little angel calms down immediately.  There's no time threshold here.  You should not wait for five minutes to see if the crying goes away on its own.

Just grab your munchkin and walk swiftly out into the hall.  Even if it means you have to bump a few knees and squash a couple toes on your way out, it's ok.  We understand.  Just tend to your little piece of perfection.

Because when they're content, so are we.