Not Your Daddy’s Mary Poppins

So I’ll get to the reasoning of the title in a minute. But first I must say "howdy-do" and "hola", and explain my absence.

The short explanation is "I’m getting married." The long explanation is "I’m getting married, wrangling my kids through their last quarter of school, making arrangements for the wedding, changing jobs, looking for a house, and generally not having much free time." It continues to be a good busy, and should calm down in about a month. One of the happier times of my life really.

So about the title for this post. Last night was daughter #2’s last band concert of the year. Or ever. She’s wanted to quit band for while because she much prefers choir, but I told her she had to stick it out for the year since I paid actual money for that clarinet. But I digress. It was the last concert of the year, and the closing number was "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious". I think I spelled that right. The song started up, and as my brain is wont to do, a thought immediately came. I leaned over to my other kids and said:

"Super cows and fragile pigs explode and are delicious"

And then I had a couple kids sitting on the floor, falling over in hysterical laughter. Fortunately we were sitting just behind the timpani, so nobody could hear us.

After the concert, in the parking lot, I shared the rest of what had come to mind.

Super cows and fragile pigs explode and are delicious.
If you cook them well enough they’re even good with fishes.
Don’t help in the kitchen and you’ll wind up doing dishes.
Super cows and fragile pigs explode and are delicious.

 

I talked with my bride-to-be later on in the evening and shared it with her. How great is it to find someone who not only thinks it’s funny, but that it’s cool my brain throws these things out?

If I Were a Child Actor, I’d be Billy Mumy

Fortunately my long absence hasn’t been due to a deep-space screw-up by Dr. Smith. Of course I don’t have a robot sidekick to hang out with either, and goodness knows there isn’t a tech geek that wouldn’t love to have one of those.

So it probably goes without saying that I’ve been busy. Busy busy busy. But it’s been a good busy, and I’ve been having very positive things happen in my life. Let me recap what has been the best thing to happen to me in a while…

In Columbus we have this great thing called Skybus. If you’ve never heard of it, it’s a discount airline that sells seats for as little as $10 each way. My mom and I had scored some of those really cheap seats to go visit my brother while he was doing an internship at Microsoft last year, and so when a new block of seats went on sale last September I determined that I would grab a cheap seat for a trip to Los Angeles. In January. Yep, I booked five months in advance for a trip out west just because it was exceedingly cheap.

So fast-forward to January and I nearly cancelled my trip because I didn’t have any real plans for anything to do out there, and since the ticket had been so cheap it didn’t really matter. But something just wouldn’t let me do it. A little something in me kept saying I should take the trip, and a family that used to live in our area found out I was headed their direction and invited me to stay with them. Free room and board, so I was set.

Meanwhile, around Christmas I had joined eHarmony. It was like a switch flipped in me and I was ready to journey into the world of experimental non-singleness again. Sure, I’d dipped my toe in the water a couple times over the past few years, but with only mixed success. I liked eHarmony though, and how it handled matches and so forth. Very much more a service, rather than feeling like I was hanging out in an online bar trying to attract people with pithy comments.

So yeah, I met someone on there. Several someones actually, but one of them in particular I was being a bit more chatty with. She lived in Las Vegas, but I really wasn’t minding because retty much everyone I was matching with was in and around the Utah area. Limiting yourself to “only Latter-Day Saints” seems to do that. Then a couple days before heading out to L.A. on my little excursion I got a lesson in west coast geography and learned that L.A. and Vegas really aren’t all that far apart. So I dropped a quick note about how I was flying out there in two days and if she was interested it might be fun to get together somewhere.

Get together we did, and had a nice time, if not slightly overwhelming. The other Mormon’s in the room will be the one’s to appreciate this, but because of a previously scheduled ward outing, I wound up being invited to join in a trip up to the Vegas temple. To do sealings. For a first date. Everyone assumed we were married, which was only slightly awkward (a lot) but we both had a good sense of humor about it. Then we had dinner with her one sister and brother-in-law that also live in Vegas, whose house I then crashed at for the night. In the morning her brother-in-law invited me to help with an Elder’s quorum move, so I went. Why not? It was just all kind of surreal, so I was just going with it.

And the weird thing was that, though it all caught me a bit off guard, I like it. Most guys in that situation would have found a door as quick as they could, never looked back, and never called again. And while I did eventually excuse myself back to L.A. later that day and got my head around what an over-the-top first date it all was, I was by no means wanting to pretend it never happened and close that chapter.

We’ve talked since then. A lot. Every day or two, for hours at a time. She’s visited out here since then. My kids love her, and so does my family. I’m headed out there in a couple weeks to meet more of hers. Probably in shifts since she’s one of sixteen kids, which is nearly impossible for me to fathom. The thought of one person having that many kids makes my uterus scream in anguish, and I’m a guy. Guys don’t have a uterus after all, and yet somehow I have one in phantom form that’s just screaming at the top of its lungs. Go figure. But from what I’ve gotten to know of her family so far it obvioulsy has worked very well for them.

So I seem to be on a good path here. Someone I really get that really gets me, shares the same values, probably has more experience raising kids than me given that she’s number five of the Family von Trapp, and isn’t a closeted lesbian. Like I said, we’ve been talking a lot, which accounts for me not being around here much. Hard to type up an entry when you’re on the phone until midnight since the other person is three hours behind.

All in all I’m feeling pretty good with things. There are some other things brewing too, but I can cover those later. No midnight calls tonight, but I do need to get some catching-up sleep from the others I’ve had recently.

Job Opening: Must Be Proficient With Hammers and Children

The third trimester of Hallowchristmagiving is almost over, and the tryptophan is wearing off. So what to do next? Dream of the Big Dance, of course. Do the shopping, trim the tree, fire up the oven (yes, I do my own baking…and I’m good at it), and dream of having a "special someone" with which to share a smooch under the mistletoe.

Add all that together, and this morning’s conversation with my youngest makes complete sense. Not that we haven’t had these conversations before, but when I’m wishing there were someone with whom I could share a couch, a blanket, some popcorn, and a movie it’s just a little more poignant.

(Oh, and bear in mind that my youngest, "Z", is all of five years old)

Z: When are you going to get married again?

M: I don’t know. I’m not even dating anyone. (My last date was back in March)

Z: I know.

M: Do you want me to get married again?

Z: Yeah. And when you get married again, then I’ll have a step-mom, right?

M: Yep. Are you wanting a step-mom?

Z: Uh-huh. And when I do, she’ll be happy to play "Break the Ice" with me, won’t she?

The answer, of course, was "absolutely". We then broke into our own round of games for a half-hour or so before church. The great things about playing the game with her are the interesting house rules and hammer techniques. Does the big block with the bear go in the middle of the field, or more toward one side? Do you carefully tap a block out, smash it with one stroke, or use the hammer in more unconventional ways?

Whatever style of play one might prefer, I think it’s a pretty good quality to look for. And not just because it’s my daughter’s favorite game. I like it too, after all.

Hunting Sasquatch Without a Gun

It’s been ten days, and a do have a few stories to tell about. I was going to write a post exclusively about how cute and awesome all my kids were for the last day of the first trimester of Hallochristmagiving. But that is so last week now (literally). So suffice to say that they were all awesome, and it was hysterical to watch a whole crowd of kids streaming across someone’s half-acre front yard in costume. Looked like something out of one of my favorite movies, only less gruesome. So now that I’m out of my candy-induced coma, it’s time to get a little more current.

Time for another quick primer to bring those non-Mormons in the crowd. Our church is divided up similarly to other churches, but with slightly different names. Our congregations are called Wards, or in the case of small congregations Branches. A collection of Branches and Wards is called a Stake. Multiple Stakes comprise a region. All the regions together are the Church at large. Twice a year, each congregation has a special set of meetings called a conference. Same at the Stake and Church levels too. Got it? Good.

So today was Stake Conference in my area. Well, last night too, counting the Saturday evening session. At the Saturday evening session I wasn’t sure where I was going to sit. I walked in looking around for anyone I might know so I wouldn’t feel like a complete dork sitting by myself. This morning, no big deal. Walked in and there was a good friend with his wife and kids and an extra spot. But last night there were plenty of open spaces next to lots of people I just flat-out didn’t know. And then I spotted one with some members from the Single Adult committee. Saved, if not at least a bit uncomfortably so. One of the sisters on the committee might be referred to as “awkward”, “different”, or “at least mildly off-balance”.

Once I was settled in, it was a little easier to relax and just look around to see who else was there. And what I realized was that there were lots of single people. Though most were below the minimum threshhold set for me by my oldest daughter. I’m not allowed to date anyone younger than 30 by her rules, since anyone younger would be too uncomfortably young to think of in a motherly capacity. I don’t have the heart (or the nerve) to point out that even someone at 30 would only have been 15 at the time she was conceived. If I ever did mention it, I probably wouldn’t be allowed to date anyone under 50. Not that it really matters as I haven’t been on a date since March. But I digress.

So I notice that there are lots of single people around at least in their twenties. And I’m pretty sure that there were others there in the “acceptable dating age” range. But with all the icky married people there, sitting with the single people they’ve taken under their wings, it was impossible to tell them apart. They were utterly, socially camouflaged. Conference in itself was enjoyable enough, sure. But knowing that Sasquatch were out there, hiding and likely not even knowing they were so completely invisible, was a frustrating experience.

In an effort to bring the Sasquatch out of hiding, I’ve stepped up my efforts to fill my calling in the Single Adult committee. I’ve volunteered to take on the responsibility of compiling the list of activities for all the surrounding stakes and circulate them so that everyone will know what’s going on. We’re really, really terrible in two areas when it comes to Single Adult activities: (a) having them and (b) letting people know when we’re having them. I’ve just grown tired of there not being any good way to socially meet people in general, and seeing that there are single people sitting in the same chapel and not getting together to have a good time just tears it.

I just don’t want to get fooled like the guy that took this picture though. He thought he might have found a Sasquatch, but the experts have said it’s just a bear with mange. I don’t need another one of those though. Brokeback was enough of that. She even tried to take my picnic basket when she left to be with another mangy bear.

Guess Ho’s Coming to Dinner?

All hail Windows Media Center, which does me the great favor of keeping track of what crappy television I’m wanting to waste hard drive space recording. Important tonight because it was the premier of “A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila”. Since the VMA’s I’ve been waiting for this one just to make sure I didn’t rant uninformed.

Now let me preface the rest of this monologue by saying a couple things, most important of which is this: I’m not a homophobe. Many people might assume that, just because I was married to someone that later decided a man wasn’t really what they were after, that I would be instantly anti-gay. This is patently not true of me, or the community of us that have been down that road in general. As a matter of fact, some of the str8 spouses (yes, it’s something of an official term) go so far in the pro-gay direction that I think they’re a bit dillusional about it all. Anyway, not homophobic. Beyond that, Mormonism is not inherently homophobic either. Where people get confused is thinking Mormons, and Mormonism in general, hates gay people. Totally wrong. Disagree with the lifestyle, sure. We believe any sex outside of marriage is wrong. So if you’re straight and skankin’ around we’re going to disagree with that too. But people are people, and just because you’re predisposed to homosexuality doesn’t make you any less of a good person than someone predisposed to heterosexuality. So before anyone goes getting their noses bent out of joint and decrying a homophobic foul, put a sock in it and learn to think objectively.

Okay, so with that disclaimer all out of the way, we can start. *ahem*…mi mi mi miiiiiii…do re mi fa so la ti doooooooo…I think I’m ready.

Tila Tequila is a whore.

So that’s the blunt bit. The short version of the story. So now I’ll be fair and dig into that a bit more. In truth, everyone on the show is a whore. Gay…straight…doesn’t matter. All whores. The premise of the show is simple. Er, sort of. Tila is a closet bisexual who hasn’t even come out to her family. So what better way to let them know than by having her own reality show wherein she attempts to come to some kind of personal closure on who she likes to bang…uh…hang with more, and see if she can’t find a relationship along the way. To that end, MTV networks puts her up in a four-story mansion along with twenty-two of the most desparate attention-seekers in the country. Eleven men who dig chicks and eleven women who dig them more. They’re brought in as separate groups and all hear Tila’s little more-than-bi-curious surprise for them at their first meeting.

What about any of this doesn’t scream whores? But more importantly, what about this isn’t fully representative of the moral decay of our society. People flocking from all across the country to (based on the previews of upcoming episodes that I won’t watch) make out everywhere with Tila and also get drunk, pull each other’s hair, swear, and fight amongst themselves. All in an effort to be “the one” for Tila. Because reality television is so much the right place to find true love. Just look at all the happy couples that has worked out for.

Beyond that though, as someone who had their family turned upside-down by a spouse coming out, I am apalled because this kind of behavior and emotional turmoil isn’t entertainment. Throwing Christians to the lions is kinder than what that sort of emotional hell puts people through. Yet the electronic coloseum of MTV is doing just that. And more, this spectacle appears to want to take itself seriously, somehow representing an overlooked part of the common America.

Well, it’s not. Look, MTV is contantly trying to find ratings without playing music videos any more. Who the heck knows why. But this kind of television is just wrong. Life is confusing enough for the MTV target demographic. This type of “Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy” gone wrong pap does nothing to help or improve that. I’m not advocating that they go to only programming “Sound of Music” and “Mary Poppins” (even Julie Andrews went for the shock factor in “S.O.B.”) but let’s show a little responsibility, shall we? Or at least some creativity. Sex is easy to program. Something of substance takes work, sure. But then at least you wouldn’t have somebody like me calling you whores.

We Need a Representative from that Group

Egads…Start ramping up for a birthday party for your 14-year-old and suddenly you’re five days out from your last blog entry. That, and some evenings just saying "I really don’t feel like my brain is firing on enough cylinders to do this justice." Like I’ve been doing it justice anyway. I really want it to have "Walking Tall" justice though. You know, the kind that says "You’ll respect this topic because it deserves it and I say so."

Yeah, the kids are all gone at Brokeback’s place and I’ve been watching some cable television.

But before watching The Rock* dispense justice this evening, I was at a single adult committee meeting for all the congregations of my church in this area. I wasn’t really looking forward to it. Much. At all. Truthfully, I was completely dreading it. At thirty-eight I am by far the youngest person on the committee, and after my daughter’s party I was feeling even younger. I was just sitting by and letting her and her friends goof off and have fun when a boy she invited started asking a bit about my computer setup. I started giving him specs and talking all the tech talk. Then they all started digging in my MP3 collection with lots of "oohs" and "ahhs" over the music I have. I had suddenly achieved my life-long goal of being cool with all the middle school kids, albeit twenty-five years late. So the prospect of meeting with a group where the median age is somewhere in the mid-sixties was an incredibly un-appealing follow-up.

Making the prospect of the meeting even less attractive was the knowledge that we were to begin planning the January event. A night of singing and music. All performed by other people so that we, the singles, can sit and listen politely. Much like a service activity where a group of youth go sing to shut-ins at the home. Something that people not having personal ownership of either a walker or a shawl would be remotely interested in. In short, I was going to participate in a meeting where I would not only be peering in upon, but also personally helping to architect one of my own personal levels of hell.

I was not stoked.

The meeting began much as I had expected. Some pleasantries, followed but some meandering thoughts to open the discussion. Then a period wherein my thoughts mostly centered on how hard I would have to beat my head on the table in front of me before blood would start trickling out of my ears. That thought would then turn to an internal debate over whether it would be possible at all to inflict that level of damage to my head since this was one of those long tables with fold-out legs made mostly of platic with a thin metal frame. The kind they use for stunts in pro wrestling. They crash through them and blood never comes out of their ears, so I’d probably just make a lot of noise and never be able to beat myself into unconsciousness as an escape from the begginings of conversation over refreshments for an activity four months in the future.

At about that point in the meeting though, the second-youngest person on the committee (missing me by something around a decade) interjected something from a telephone conversation he and I had a couple weeks ago. "With some of the things we do I really think we’re missing the ‘middle’ group of singles. The ones thirty to forty-five." I was not about to miss this opportunity.

"You know, I have to say that while I do appreciate all the effort that goes into this activity, I’m not interested in it. At all. I won’t be coming, and neither will anyone else in my age range." Talk about a conversation turner. This is my third time being part of planning this particular event, and while I have put some voice to this concern before, I’ve never done it so directly. And to the group’s credit, discussion quickly turned to questions of why I wouldn’t be interested and what we could do differently.

Answer to first question: Because I can’t think of anything more boring or soul-sucking than feeling I have to import people to make me feel like I’m not a social outcast.

Answer to second question: Plan something that I can do sooner than four freaking months from now.

Now, while I may not have put my thoughts in exactly those terms, I believe the point did make it across. People in the thirty to forty-five demographic have different interests, and would like to be social with each other so as to, perhaps, meet someone new with whom to spend their lives. It’s a novel concept, but as a church we are terrible, bad, awful at supporting our singles in having a social life with other singles within the church. We’re so worried about making sure that they don’t sleep with each other outside of marriage that we give them nothing to come to so as to insure that they sleep with people outside the church instead. As surprising as it may sound, that approach is not being met with a terrible lot of success, with the end result being that many of our divorced or never-married singles leave and never return.

All of this dicussion seemed to be making sense to everyone, and some good ideas were starting to be generated. Then at one point, someone interjected, "We should get someone from that age group here as a representative."

sigh…While it may not be perfect, at least it’s progress

 

* You didn’t think I’d be talking about Joe Don Baker, did you? And…yep. Right there, you’re too young for me again, aren’t you?

I am the David Hasselhoff of Ghana

Seriously, it’s the only thing that can explain what I’m going to talk about. No, I’ve never been to Ghana (or anywhere else on the African continent) but hear me out.

So David Hasselhoff, the Knight Rider and lifeguard extraordinaire, is know here in the U.S. of A. mostly for being a cheesy, B-grade television hack. And recently a drunken trainwreck on YouTube courtesy of his own daughters. He’s all class. But one thing he has never been to us is a music star. No matter how he has tried, he’s never been a musical sensation in America.

Germany, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter. There, he’s a star. He was invited to perform at the celebration for the tearing down of the Berlin wall.* He’s a part of a nation’s history. David. Freaking. Hasselhoff.

What does that have to do with me and Ghana? Well, here in the states I’ve done some pretty cool stuff. I have great kids. I’ve done award-winning work in my field on several occassions. I’ve even had my own business with employees and everything. But meeting people online? On the Mormon dating sites, where I would hope to meet nice, like-minded single Mormon women? Not so much. I’ve never been a sensation in America.

Ghana, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter. There, I seem to be a star. Any time I’m on the LDS dating sites and leave my status as "available" or "online" for a little while (usually while I’m doing some moonlight work in the evening) I’ll get chat requests. And every time, every one of them, usually go like this (with a little sidebar commentary sprinkled in):

abodam0244: hello
abodam0244: hello
finitemonkey: hello
abodam0244: Hi
abodam0244: How are you doing ?
finitemonkey: Doing alright. How about you?
abodam0244: well good
abodam0244: what your name ?
abodam0244: I am Rose but i prefer to be called
rose
finitemonkey: I prefer not to give out my name so
soon when meeting someone

I thought it was nice of her to let me know that, although her actual name is "Rose", she prefers to be called "rose". And I’m sure the "what your name?" line was just a typo, since her profile says she’s an educator with a high school diploma. Obviously I’m a little colder than "rose" on meeting people, but you have to be careful about Internet security after all. So the conversation continues:

abodam0244: Well okay
finitemonkey: So how is NY today?
abodam0244: Well okay
abodam0244: But i am not in new york now
abodam0244: I left there
finitemonkey: Really? So where are you now?
abodam0244: yes
abodam0244: Ghana
finitemonkey: Why did you list NY as your location
then?
abodam0244: Well i was in there

Now here I’m disappointed with "rose". It wasn’t unexpected, since this seems to be how all my chats go though. I don’t have anything against women in Ghana, so I wish they would just put it in their profile instead of New York or something.

abodam0244: So what are you looking for ?
finitemonkey: Someone that isn’t trying to phish
information or get a zombie installed on my machine.

I might have been a bit rude here, but while I don’t have anything personal against the women of Ghana, they do seem to have quite the propensity for these kinds of activities. It really is a shame too. As for what I’m looking for? Who knows. Maybe I should have tried chatting with "phonelove" when she sent me a message.

finitemonkey: I’ve reported you for abuse. You might
as well start working on your new account now.
abodam0244: Why?
abodam0244: you are a fool
abodam0244: stupid man

This was the end of my relationship with "rose". It’s been bothering me for days. Days. What if she had been my sould mate? What if I just brushed off THE ONE out of foolish fear of phishing? Obviously I’ll never be able to rekindle our brief romance now that she thinks I’m a fool and stupid.

But it’s okay. There will be more. I know, because in Ghana, I’m a star.

 

*For those of you too young to remember the Berlin wall, you likely fall into the "single but too young for you" category (drattit)

Single Mormon male

One of the things most important to we Mormons is family. Many people have at one time or another known a Mormon family with 10 or 13 kids and said “Geez, what’s up with those Mormons?” We like family. Family is a good thing. It’s why E. and I link back to each others’ blogs, talk regularly, and all that jazz. It’s not “I think I’ll have 13 kids” important to everyone, but you get the idea. It’s a cornerstone in our religious beliefs.

So a couple years ago my applecart got upset when my ex-wife decided to become just that. My ex-wife. Leaving me with the dreaded mid-thirties moniker of “single and Mormon”.

Many guys in my position would go “Woo-hoo! Time for a party and to find a new girl! That woman was a pain in the butt to me for way too long. FREEDOM!” But see, I never wanted any of that. I was very happy being a husband and father, and never wanted anything otherwise. In retrospect there were a lot of things that I should have wanted to be different, and that I do want and expect in a relationship now, but at the time I just didn’t know better. And I didn’t want to know better. (Bleah…even typing that now my old self sounds like such an insecure shmoe.)

If you haven’t already inferred, the divorce had nothing to do with anything I did. Believe me. I may not have been the perfect husband (and who ever is?) but this had nothing to do with me. I’ll just leave it at that, except to say that the ex’s name on E’s blog isn’t “Brokeback” for nothin’. But the first, big problem with being a divorced, male Mormon is that most everyone is pretty ready with the assumption that you were the one that did something to send things south. Now, my self-confidence is way better now than it had been for many years, but it still takes a bit of a hit feeling that many women think of you as a potential villain right out of the gate. I know that non-Mormon guys also deal with this to some extent, but it’s not quite the same when you consider my next problem with being a single Mormon guy…

I only want to date a nice, Mormon girl. In some parts of the country *cough*-Utah-*cough* this might not be as big a deal. But here in the big city nearest to Cooterville, it’s a bit of a sticky wicket. You see, as I mentioned, family is important to Mormons. So much so that many usually start them early. As in Brokeback and I were married at 19 and 22, respectively. By the time she headed for different pastures (wow…there’s a double-entendre if ever there was one) we had four children. So what this means to the single Mormon guy is that, in an area where selection can already be a tad restricted when you’re younger, most everyone is already married when you’re in your mid-to-late thirties. Those that aren’t typically seem to fall into one of five areas:

• I’m single, divorced, and too young for you.
• I’m single, never been married, and there’s a reason. A damn good one.
• I’m single, have kids of my own, and want a guy who doesn’t have any kids of his own so that he’ll only worship mine.
• I’m single, don’t have kids, and am really not wanting to be a step-mom. Ever. It would interfere with my mountain biking and world traveling.
• I’m single, with kids or without, could be perfect, but live really, really, really far away.

Which is the next point for the single Mormon guy. Though this one really goes for any guy that really loves his kids, I’m sure. I can’t move. I have half-custody, and would never give that up for anything. They are my kids, after all. Which is why point five above is a real tough one.

It isn’t that there aren’t single Mormon women around my area. There are. I’m sure of it. But they’re like Bigfoot. No, no, not big and hairy and ugly. Not all of them anyway. But they’re hidden. The church might try to put on activities for the singles to lure them out to get to meet each other, but it’s a clumsy effort something like a group of hunters putting on a bunch of Old Spice before heading into the woods. The singles in their thirties smell the scent of old people doing the activity planning and they run. Unless you’re me of course. Then you get sucked into the planning committee where all your observations of “Guys, I know the rest of you are all old enough to at least be my parents, but this idea sounds really geriatric” are blissfully ignored.

I have hope that there might be some relief on the way though. I saw an online profile for a woman in Colorado Springs that has been spearheading a pilot test of a 28-45 singles program in her area for the church. Planning activities targeted for that age range might bring all the male and female Sasquatch out of hiding. I wrote her through the singles site where I saw her profile, asking for more information about the program.

I haven’t heard from her though. Probably because I’m really, really, really far away.

Water Fight!

Is it just me, or does everyone experience the hiccup and loss of a few days when first starting out writing a blog? Nothing quite like the guilt of seeing that it’s been three days since the last post. Especially when I’ve been building a battery of topics to write about, so it’s not like I have writer’s block or anything. Just a busy schedule. But I digress…

So, a quick bit of disclosure. I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. A Mormon. You may have heard of us. Or you may at least have heard of Glenn Beck, who is also Mormon. Or Mitt Romney. Or yes, even Donnie and Marie. But this isn’t about any of them. This bit of personal information is just to provide some context around talking about the mid-week church youth activities my daughter attends. They have these every week, and typically are broken up by gender and age groups. But once a month, everyone gets together for a large group activity, but boys and girls.

Last night was one of those nights, and it brought back fond memories for me.

The youth were playing some water volleyball and having water relays. The water volleyball was a new concept for me, but looked pretty fun. Water baloons caught and tossed back over the net by teams of two using a bath towel between them. The relay involved sitting in a row and passing a giant, water-logged sponge front to back over each other’s heads and squeezing what was left out into buckets. Good stuff. And though fun, the activities weren’t what the kids were all about. They were, of course, about throwing buckets of water and strafing each other with super soakers. Boys versus girls for the most part, of course. And those are the memories I have.

When I was younger, and part of said youth program at church, water fights between the boys and girls were a summertime ritual. Most of them took place in my parents’ yard, and involved any manner of dousing conceivable. It wouldn’t be terribly unusual for the guys to be outside talking and suddenly see a volley of water balloons arcing over the top of the house. It was even less unusual for the girls to be outside talking and suddenly see a volley of water balloons arcing over the top of the house. All sides enjoyed it, and the combat would last for an hour or more. Balloons, then hoses, then five-gallon buckets, and eventually a few guys grabbing one of the girls in an attempt to hold her directly under the outside faucet.

For us guys, it was a combination of water combat and flirting. We had some attractive girls in our circle of friends. For the girls, it was also a combination of water combat and flirting. The guys weren’t completely unfortunate either. The girls had all apparently read Sun Tsu’s “Art of War” however, and knew that one of the keys to winning was to let your enemy think you are weak. The guys would always think they were getting the better of the girls in the water fight, but the girls were always winning the real war in terms of relationships.

I only realized the full extent of this while watching my daughter and her friends at their youth activity. One of the girls in particular was a perpetual target (though she dished some out too). And she loved it. She was losing the fight, but clearly winning the war. And once I realized that, my immediate next realization was of my daughter was doing the same thing. Which led to my final realization that, with the start to her dating only being two years away, it’s about time for me to choose between aluminum or wood and start practicing at the batting cages.

I believe Sun Tsu also has a thing or two to say about preparation, after all.