Ohio! {Visits to Kirtland and Sandusky}

Last Monday and Tuesday the dental school had Fall Break, so we decided to take a little jaunt up to Ohio. Road trip! Our trip had two different facets:

First on our trip was a stop at Punderson State Park, where we camped for the night. We could not have asked for better weather that afternoon, and the place was beautiful. That is, until it began to rain mercilessly from sundown to sunup. Our friends, who were traveling with their three little girls, had brought a comfortable-sized tent for their family. We had also brought a tent--a two-man, that would have been okay, except one of the poles was broken and we just weren't so sure how it was going to hold up in the rain. It was standing okay, but it looked kind of like a Charlie-Brown's-Christmas-tree tent, and it seemed like it could've given way under the slightest pressure. So the 7 of us piled into the Laus' tent and posted up for the night. My favorite quote of the evening was when I asked Eliza how many people she thought could fit in their tent. We were all already sitting in the tent. She looked around thoughtfully (no doubt practicing her math skills) and said, "Well, probably all of us minus the two of you." Nothing like the honesty of a 4 year-old.

 

Waking up untouched by rain felt like such a miracle. We packed up camp, hopped in our cars, and drove to Kirtland, OH. Kirtland is home to some pivotal and very interesting LDS Church history sites, including the Kirtland temple, the Newel K. Whitney Store, the School of the Prophets (housed in the store), and some of the living quarters of early saints. It was all very cool.

After spending a few hours in Kirtland, we hopped back in our cars. . .

. . .and landed at Kalahari Resort in Sandusky, OH! We spent the rest of Monday and all day Tuesday cruising around the indoor water park like a pack of 10 year-olds. It was soooo fun. 

I just love vacations. I really feel so blessed to be able to pack up and go relatively easily. Here's to another string of hard-workin' weeks!

Wanna link-up to talk weekends? Check out Sami's weekend linkup.

Could a Mormon Host a Talk Show? (or, what would happen if I sat down with Mindy Kaling?)

So, I've been reading Mindy Kaling's book, which consists of mostly fluffy, funny chit-chat about her upbringing and launch into her career. The book mostly called my attention because I am a huge fan of The Office, not because I knew anything about Mindy. Other than, of course, the fact that she had written and produced some shows for The Office, in addition to playing Kelly on The Office. Which seemed like reason enough to read the book. And, I guess, because you always wonder how much the people in a show are actually just a different flavor of the actors portraying them--like, how much is Kelly Kapoor actually just a particular rendering of Mindy Kaling? And how much is Michael Scott actually just a slightly altered Steve Carrell? (Except that one is easier, because I've seen SC act very distinct roles, whereas I've only seen Mindy Kaling on The Office.)

Reading Mindy's book, I feel like she is my pal. I think it's something about how she writes--all conversational and goofy. I like it. I picture us hanging out sometime, and chatting about. . .what, exactly?! I don't know. The Office, I guess. She'd probably have lots of funny stories and appreciate mine, too. She just seems like that kind of girl, ya know? She actually reminds me of a friend from high school who I will call Tara. Fun, highly intelligent, edgy, dramatic, and rather into herself, but in an endearing sort of way. I don't know how people pull it off, but some do.

But then, underneath my overall comfort with Mindy as a funny, intellectual, relatable human being is this realization: maybe I wouldn't be so comfortable sitting down and chatting. A familiar anxiety is the undercurrent to all these thoughts about sitting down and chatting with a fun and edgy celebrity. I think the thought running through my mind is, "Could I pull it off? Could I pass for a normal, fun person, or would she find me strange, out of touch, too reserved, uninteresting?"

I think this absolutely comes from my own confusion about who I am supposed to be as a Mormon. Or not who, maybe, but how. President Hinckley said once, quoting Paul from the Bible, that we are to be a "peculiar" people. Okay, got it. Be different. Embrace the different-ness. Be proud of yourself for not drinking alcohol, not swearing, not taking part in low or crass or mean humor. Stick to your resolve not to shop or eat out on the Sabbath. Stand tall, and others will respect you for living your standards. Cool.

It's so easy when we're all at church, like in a giant pep rally, cheering each other on and patting each other on the back. And I think, yes, I can proudly be ME. I can live authentically and others will respect me for it. It is who I want to be, and I believe the world needs more goodness. I really do!

Then, when the Church launched the "I am a Mormon" campaign a few years ago, it felt like an effort to establish ourselves as "normal." Hey, look! We are are just your normal, everyday neighbors living on your street. We pass by each other at the grocery store, we work together, I am that nice kid you went to high school with. I am the successful businessman or artist-turned-stay-at-home-mom. And, just as I embraced the idea of being different, I have also embraced the idea of being the same. Focusing on common ground, building relationships with people of different backgrounds, letting people ask you questions but not forcing your beliefs on anyone.

The challenge, for me, comes in finding the balance. And, quite frankly, this sometimes leaves me paralyzed in social situations. Here are some examples:

Once, carpooling with some fellow grad students to the Atlanta airport, the driver of the car (who I had only just met, but was friends with my friend Alex and had graciously offered to drop us off at the airport and park our car at his house while we were away), commented ironically on one of the "I am a Mormon" billboards lining the freeway. "I wish I was Mormon," he said. "Seriously! They all look so happy." I shifted, knowing that maybe if I wasn't in the car everyone would chuckle or make other ironic comments. Instead, Alex said simply, "Cammie's a Mormon!" I smiled, tensely, and said tentatively, "Yep, it's true!", again fading out into reserved silence. Such a far cry from all those billboard and commercial folks who so proudly proclaim their identity.

Some days, I go to work meetings, and I'm a quiet and more reserved me. I am polite. I am likeable. I stick to my standards (the non-drinking, non-swearing, non-gallivanting-on-Sundays standards), but I am ostensibly generic, overly agreeable, laughing at the right jokes, squelching my own quirky and weird humor. Cringing inwardly when someone drops the f-bomb, and politely declining to go out for drinks. I am happy to keep these standards, but in these situations, I feel like I am hiding something. I find myself hoping that no one will notice my different, that no one will ask. I want to blend in.

The moments of truth, if we can call them that, come and go so quickly. Someone asks, "How do you know Spanish?" and everyone in the room is listening, intrigued.

I respond, vaguely, "I went on a mission for my church." Here in Kentucky, most people don't ask for more details. No, they nod knowingly, presumably because missions are so common among lots of Christian faiths. But we're talking 2-week missions, usually called mission trips. Not the kind of thing you'd become fluent in Spanish for. I recognize these people have no clue what I'm actually talking about, or that they've come *this close* to knowing something that feels hugely important about me. The conversation is cut short by my vagueness, and nobody finds out I was a Mormon missionary for 18 months in Puerto Rico, Aruba, and Curacao. That I actually speak Spanish and Papiamento, a Dutch-Spanish pigeon language that only a handful of non-natives--Mormon missionaries, usually--ever learn.

What does this have to do with Mindy Kaling, exactly? Ummm, nothing, really. But I think she's cool, and I want to be comfortable enough in my own skin that we could sit down and have a nice chat. And why on earth not? We both love The Office, and everyone knows that's sufficient basis for a great friendship.

Right?

I think ultimately it will have something to do with letting go of my own self-censoring mechanism.

And yes, I think I could be a talk show host. It's not all that different from being a therapist, really, in that you get to have completely one-sided conversations with people and they almost never have to know anything about you. I've never articulated that before, but I think there's some security in it for me. I think it's time for me to work on taking my filter down.

If you've stuck with me throughout this post, you are a trooper. I would love to hear your thoughts. How have you learned to be true to yourself across different contexts and situations? Please teach me. :)

Never Suppress a Generous Thought. {Free Printable!}

This is one of my favorite quotes, by my namesake (Camilla Kimball). 

"Never suppress a generous thought."

I want to embody that ideal. Ever since I heard the quote several years ago, it unexpectedly pulses through my mind at times when I contemplate giving way to selfish motives. At times, it is accompanied by a pang of guilt or justification. The thought comes:

                                 to call an old mission companion,

                                      a friend neglected,

                                          someone who is lonely,

                                               a family member,

                                                    someone I used to keep closer tabs on.

I know I should just do it. Swallow the hesitation and pick up the phone. But my brain works double-time to come up with reasons not to. I am tired. Maybe I should call when I know there won't be any interruptions, when I'll be able to focus better on the person and less on my own crud. Or sometimes, what if it just ends up being weird? What will I say? Do I have anything to offer this person?

The point is, I am human. I don't always make the right choice, but I hope to move closer to the ideal. I believe God inspires our thoughts for a reason, and if we stifle them, then we're probably gonna miss out on some pretty great moments. 

{right click and save as to print; select 4x6 size for best resolution}

Primary

Today was my first day as Primary Chorister in our new ward. I loved it!

We spent the majority of our time learning a new song for fall: "Oh, what do you do in the autumn time?" It's just like the summer-time version, if you know your Primary songs.

Oh, what do you do in the autumn time,
When all the world has changed?
Do you jump in some leaves?
Or swing in the breeze?
And watch all the birds go by?
Is that what you do?
So do I.

Oh what do you do in the autumn time,
When all the world has changed?
Do you sip hot cocoa,
Or wait for some snow,
As you watch all the clouds go by?
Is that what you do?
So do I.

I made picture cards for most of the lyrics (ie. a kid jumping into some leaves, a snowman, birds, etc.) and got some of the kids to come stand in a row and hold up their card when we got to it. We had them scramble up after everyone had the words down, and then I let some other kids have a chance. One of the best things about primary is how excited everyone is to be a "volunteer." They reach their little hands up as high as they can, and they yell, "Me, me, me!!" until you say, "I'm going to choose someone who's reverent. . ." and they all glue their lips shut but can hardly contain themselves and can't quite stay on their seats. At what age, exactly, do we lose that enthusiasm?

Another highlight of singing time was when we sang The Wise Man and The Foolish Man, and one of the little kids explained that the "rock" we are to build on is Jesus, and the winds are Satan. I was so amazed that he actually knew what the song was about.

I also visited the Nursery and we sang. There were six kids there but really only one of them was a singer. So really, he and I sang some duets, with the others looking on. He knew ALL of the words to his favorite song, "NEPHI!" (Nephi's Courage; extra fun because I know and love the people who wrote it).

I even got to go to Relief Society after it all--I have the best calling, ever!

Birthday weekend.

It was my birthday on Friday. The branch went kayaking at Coosa River in Wetumpka, AL. Here's right before I jumped off a cliff into the river...



My roommates and friends from school and church came over and we made pizzas. Becca Z (from church) made the dough and Esperanza (roommie) got the toppings. Oh, and we also had awesome cake that Esperanza made. Sweet, sweet friends.



Yummm.



I tried to make a cat pizza, because back in 3rd grade when we made individual pizzas for my birthday party, I remember I tried to make a cat. Mine's the one in the middle. Looks like I still got it...



Here's me sporting the birthday bow Emma sent me. :)



Would've been fun to spend time with my momma, since we share our birthday. But I had a good one, just the same.

How to Have a Crawfish Boil

1. Put the crawfish in a big pot of boiling water. The water must be boiling first, and the crawfish must be live until they hit the water. (This is important, I am told). Throw some cajun seasoning, potatoes, onion, sausage, and corn in there, too.

2. Throw down all the food onto a spread of newspaper. Assemble your friends and family. This is a social event--a conversation set to the soundtrack of slurping and shell-cracking. Choose your first delicacy. Hold up the crawdad with your fingers. Twist off the tail, as shown.

3. You can suck the juice out of the front half (the head--yummmm) if you've got the stomach for that sort of thing. Otherwise, peel back some of the shell surrounding the tail.

4. Pull the tail meat out of the rest of the shell.

You will have some guests who pretend not to enjoy the crawfish. Don't worry--this is normal. When they've got a mound of discarded shells the size of their head, it is safe to say they like the crawfish.

Delight.

Appetizing, no?

The second batch was a lot redder than the first. I guess that happens when your propane burner is working better and your water gets hotter and the crawfish get cooked better.

So, I'm not one of those craft bloggers, but...

My roommate and I made this awesome thing for Relief Society to help remind us all to do our visiting teaching.

First we made the cute little magnet sheepies:



We made lots of them. One for each girl that needs to get visited each month.



Then we decorated the magnetic dry erase board so one half looks like the desert, and the other half is the grassy pasture where we want all the sheep to end up each month. Observe:



Cute, huh? I adapted this idea from something Maggie did one time when she was in charge of visiting teaching in our old ward. I won't tell you how long Esperanza and I worked on this today, because then it doesn't seem quite as cool. It was a fun project though, and hopefully it will be useful.