Primary

Teacher:  The Star Wars theme song is not appropriate for church.  No Star Wars please.

Two Kids: (simultaneously)  Dun dun dun dun da da dun da da...

Me:  Hey, no Star Wars Theme.

Kids:  I thought she said please for Star Wars theme.

Me:  No. She didn't. 

Our Story, chapter 1

Did I ever tell you about how David and I met?  Yes? No?


The year was 1999.  I had just moved into a cute little home with 3 girls that I didn't know.  I had been home from my mission since October 1998 and was ready to move on with my life.  I was in the Logan 22nd Singles Ward.


David was in the ward. He had heard that I served in the Missouri St. Louis mission and struck up a conversation.  His brother served in the same mission.  I knew him as one of the singing elders.  That was our first introduction.


I thought he was handsome and I enjoyed the comments that he gave in Gospel Doctrine.  He always sat on the front row.  I always sat on the back row.  I kept my eye on him but apparently the timing wasn't right for us to really get to know each other.  He moved out of the ward that summer and we both lived our seperate lives.


Every once in awhile we would run into each other.  In the Wal-Mart parking lot, or crossing paths in other church buildings.  He was always friendly, I always checked his ring finger.  It was always bare.


We each dated, got in and out of relationships and learned a lot about ourselves.  Then our paths crossed again.  This time as representatives for the 25 and Older Singles Group in our stakes.  I semi-fondly called it "The Last Chance Before They Put You Out to Pasture".  "Pasture" was the Adams Park ward where the chances of marriage were slim at best.  Even being on the same committee it still took some time before David asked me out.


As a matter of fact I had pretty much given up on him.  My apparently pathetic attempts at flirtation weren't panning out.  One of my friends asked if I could introduce her to him.  I thought I might as well since he's obviously not interested in me.  (I confess, I secretly didn't think they'd work out anyway so I didn't see the harm in it.)  So after our institute class, the special one for the 25 and up group, I made introductions.  The night came to a close and we each walked to our seperate cars.  David and I happened to be parked on the same side of the building so we walked out together.  Well sort of together.  I was a little behind but he was still in the parking lot nonetheless. 


Then we started talking, and talking, and talking.  Before we knew it it was 11:00 and we were still talking in the parking lot.  I thought to myself "Hmm.. that was interesting."  And then we just looked at each other.  Kind of funny like.  We said our goodbyes and see ya laters. 


Later happened to be the next day at the opening social for the 25 and older group.  Did I mention he was in charge of it... yeah, he was.  So we met at Adam's Park the next day and entertained the masses, all 20 of them.  We played volleyball and ate ice cream.    My friend who was quite interested in David came as well.  This was the day they were really supposed to hit it off.


So there we were playing sand volleyball, each of us on opposite teams, when David yells out.  "Hey Lora, have you seen the new Harry Potter movie?"  I respond with a no.  He continues, "Would you like to go with me on Friday night?"  Without hesitation I said yes.**(see footnote)  Then I looked at my friend and she looked at me.  She was not happy.  However, I had been waiting for this moment for 5 years and I wasn't about to pass it up.


So on Friday June 26th, 2004 David and I had our first date.  I don't even remember which Harry Potter it was.  We came back to my apartment and talked till 2 in the morning at least.  Catching up on what had happened in our lives and how we got to where we were.  Thoroughly enjoyable. 


That was the beginning, almost 6 years ago.  I was already at ease with this charming man and he didn't know he had already started to sweep me off of my feet.

**Footnote:  the "yes" in this story had another part.  There was another guy there who had asked me out several times that day and each time I turned him down.  I told him I was busy, visiting family, not interested in the movie, headed out of town.  Anything and everything I could do.  Not 10 minutes before David asked me out he had asked me to see the Harry Potter movie with him that same weekend and I had declined.  I don't know how he missed it since he was playing volleyball with us too, but he did not hear either of us.  Much later on, like weeks, he continued to ask me out and I continued to say no.  He then told me that I better be careful because if I didn't say yes soon he would stop asking me out.  I said that would be okay.  He really didn't know how to take that.  I told him I wasn't interested in him.  He went into denial.  I ended up going out with him once, and by out I mean sitting on opposite ends of the couch watching a movie at my house.  He stopped asking after that.

A New Blog

I have started a new blog.  http://practicerunlhs.blogspot.com/.

When I started this work of crazyness that is my current blog, I didn't know where to go.  I've kind of just made it up as I went.  A few good stories here and there, travel tales, a day in the life of... that kind of thing.  I wanted it to be more, but wasn't sure how to do it.  Then I realized that I've been trying to make it into too much.  So I made a new one.

"Practice Run" will house the stories of my life.  As in my life that was.  My childhood.  My family stories.  Lora stories, pre-David.  My current blog will deal with the day to day things.  The funny happenings now.  The where we are's and why fors of life. 

All are invited to take a stroll through both.  I try to be as completely honest as possible in both.  Of course time does color the past, but sometimes it  makes it a happier place to visit.

Enjoy!

Do you ever wish for someone else's life?

Today I wish that I were in someone else's shoes.  I wish I had someone else's life besides this one right here, right now.  If I had someone else's shoes then perhaps I wouldn't have the scars on my feet from the awkwardness of my own shoes.  Perhaps I wouldn't have tripped and fallen so many times.  Perhaps there would not be so many set backs.  Or maybe I just need to take a closer look at my own life.  Maybe I'm exactly where I am supposed to be.

Lora Hubbard Sullivan.  That's me.  But for the purposes of this particular work I will be simply Lora Hubbard.  Back to my roots. Pre the crazyiness of this life.  Back to simpler times.

I was born in a small farm in Grace, Idaho.  I was an excellent baby.  My mom said that she could leave me alone for long periods of time and I would entertain myself.  Content.  I didn't cry much and I was a fast learner.  I was walking at 9 months.  My first memory is from my first birthday believe it or not.  I remember very distinctly getting a small piece of maroon polyester cloth with buttons and strings sewed onto it.  I also remember thinking "this is it? are you kidding me?"  I was not impressed.

I am the second of 7 children.  I have one older brother, Jarom,  and we were the best of friends.  We did everything together.  We lived in a white house just down the road from my Aunt Janice's house and not too far from the main farm house where my grandparents lived and my dad worked.  The world was our back yard.  I have many fond memories of that house.  In the upstairs room (on the main floor, there was a main floor and a basement) there was a built-in closet.  Not an ordinary closet, but a kind of cupboard closet.  We had to stand on a stool to climb into it.  It had one half shelf in it and it was big enough for at least two small children to get in and have a ball.  It was where we lived sometimes.  Stuffed animals, blankets, pillows, all stuffed in the closet along with our bodies and imaginations.

Jarom and I shared a room for quite awhile.  At least it seemed like quite awhile.  When more siblings, all in the form of sisters came along then other arrangements were made and I moved downstairs with the girls.  But until then we had the run of the place.  Part of it was our bunk beds.  I was on the bottom bunk, he was on top bunk.  I was always jealous of the top bunk.  The exceptions were tent days. 

Bunk beds have many uses, one of which is the making of the tent.  We tucked blankets under the top mattress to form the sides transforming the dreary bottom bunk into a place of wonder and desirability.  The use of a flashlight made it even better.  Everything was magical in our makeshift tent.  Everything was more fun, even naps.  Though I don't know how much sleep was had but I certainly wasn't opposed to staying in bed. Of course being the younger sibling, I often had to forfeit my magical bed for the once oh-so-coveted top bunk.  For some reason Jarom thought that since it was his idea then he should enjoy the fruits of his labor.  I never saw it that way but being smaller and weaker... I didn't have much choice.

Happy President's day to Us!

Nothing says Happy President's day like a new recliner.  Unless of course that is two new recliners.

K, so I may not fall prey to the Valentine's commercialism, but a good deal on new furniture was just too much to pass up.  And there is good reason behind it too.

I may not have any children, but I'm not altogether clueless when it comes to comfort and essentials to raising children.  As we've been waiting to be chosen by a birth mom, we've made a list of "essentials" that don't cause too  much heartache if the wait is longer than expected. 

Let me explain.  If we were to go out, buy cribs, swings, baby curtains, and other things to make a nursery, then it has a fairly large chance of causing more pain than excitement in the long run.  While there is hope of "if we build it, he/she will come" we do have to be realistic.  We aren't entirely unprepared though.  We do have some money set aside so when we get the call, we've got the funds.

However, there are a few things that we can enjoy right now that are in all reality a preparation for the baby.  Like a comfy recliner that lends itself quite nicely to rocking a baby to sleep when the time comes with no heartache involved while waiting.  See, there is method behind the madness!  Meanwhile, we get to enjoy... as you can see, it didn't take long for David to enjoy.

Happy President's day!!

Ghost of Valentine's Past

I don't like Valentine's day.

Really and truely.  I don't like it.  I don't like the hype, the pressure, the combination of pink and red.  Just not my thing.  I'm not sure how my husband feels about this revelation.  And in truth I'm not sure how I feel about this revelation.  What kind of person doesn't like the day the known world has set aside to shower one's object of affection with cutesy stuffed animals, chocolate roses, over-priced jewelry and truck accessories? 

I'll tell you who, me.  And the reason why is simple.  Though I have had 5 whole years of Valentine's day goodness with the man I love, I had at least 13 years of bitter disappointment at days of Valentine's past.  I remember all too well what it's like to sit at the office and have the only non-flowered desk in site as well as no prospects of any waiting at home.  Or how about that one roommate who had 5 guys ask her out for Valentine's day while you sat and watched "First Wives Club" in order to make it all go away.  That was a good year.  And then there are always the Valentine's gone wrong.  A few examples:

1. At the tender age of 16 I baked a heart shaped cake for the boy I loved.  He in turn said he didn't like cake.  That may have been when I got the other half of the earring from Ed.  Did I mention he was on house arrest?

2.  The year of the stalker was a good one.  I was 19 he was older.  After one date he said he thought he knew me from the pre-existence and we were meant to be together.  I said I didn't think so.  He yelled at my roommates when I wouldn't answer the phone.  He grew me a rose because it's more romantic and meant more that just a store-bought one.  I changed my phone number and moved.

3.  And then there's the socks.  Nothing says Happy Valentine's day like an over-sized pair of men's wool socks.  Yeah, that had to be true love.  At least they were red.

The 13 years of Valentine's yickyness have skewed my feelings towards a healthy loving outlook on Valentine's Day.  I'm hoping that a few more good ones may rectify the situation... or maybe counseling...  Prozac?  Just for the weekend of course.

This year of course I have nothing to fear.  My wonderful husband is in the kitchen right now whipping up a wonderful dinner and caramel brownies have just come out of the oven.  We have the rest of the day to ourselves and are very much looking forward to it.  This will be a good one. May yours be as well.

Happy Valentine's one and all.

The 80/20 rule

 

I'm going to let you in a little secret of mine.  It's something that I discovered a while ago, back when I was in college, that has helped me ever since.  My little secret may not help everyone, but I bet someone out there needs to hear it.

So, here it goes.  If I give a 100% to something, I will always fail.

Doesn't make sense does it.  It's true though.  At least it's true for me.  I found that whenever I put my whole heart and soul into getting an "A" in something or doing the best job possible, I failed.  However, when I decided to go for the "B", I always got the "A".  It was all about the pressure.

I have a tendency to let the pressure of a job well done cripple my ability to think and act.  I mistakenly think that so much is riding on *insert whatever the event/job is* that if I don't practically kill myself trying to accomplish it and spend every spare moment perfecting it, then I would never succeed.  I would be worthless.  Naturally this methodology wasn't working too well for me.  I was a nervous wreck for a lot of the time.  A stress ball if you will.

I simply had to cut myself some slack or I wasn't going to survive to see my graduation day.  That's when the 80/20 rule came into effect. I could strive for perfection 80% of the time, and then I had the other 20% to mess up royally and I was still okay.  After all I was going for 80 so I met my goal. As an additional bonus I was not allowed to feel guilt about anything that happened in that 20% either.  It was sweet sweet freedom and life got better.  My grades improved,  my stress level went down, and best of all, I felt good about what I was accomplishing.  I took off the self-imposed pressure.

How much of our life's pressures come because we expect perfection from ourselves?  And how much of it is about things that just don't really matter?  Does it effect your eternal salvation?  If not then don't worry about it for heaven's sake!  Life is simply too short to cheat yourself out of a job well done... even if it's not perfect.

Things Discovered

This past week has been one discovery on many levels.  And by "this past week" I mean the week that started last Tuesday and ended on Sunday.

My discoveries:
1.  It takes longer than you think to weave blue and yellow placemats out of construction paper, especially when you are doing 65 of them.

2.  Getting things from work doesn't always mean it's easier or takes less time.  I ended up standing in the bakery for an hour on Saturday while one of the girls fixed the mess that was the cake I ordered.  It looked like a 3-year old got ahold of a paint brush.  Didn't realize I needed to specify that it be decorated tastefully instead of ickily.

3.  Girls ages 8-11 can really pack away the ice cream.  King kong cone anyone?

4.  Girls ages 8-11 never stop talking.

5.  It is possible to have half a container of sprinkles on top of 1 heart-shaped sugar cookie.

6.  It doesn't take as long to frost a cookie as it does to make a Valentine.

7.  Baked potatoes, when placed in church ovens in large quanitities to cook steam a lot. 

8.  A smoke alarm in the church house does not have the ability to distinguish between steam and smoke.

9.  It is possible to have too much frosting on a piece of cake.

10.  Scouts never stop running... Never.

11.  Bringing a roll on fast Sunday to illustrate the sacrament for sharing time is not a good idea.

Yep.  It's been a good week.  Is it odd that I sometimes look forward to work because it gives me a chance to relax?  Yeah, I thought so.

And for your enjoyment and mine as well.
from "Allo! Allo!"

Marathoner, Sprinter, or Walker?

Marathoner:  One who covers great distances in record times.  One who is driven to succeed.  One who is in control of their body enough to push it's limits.  Marathoners keep going even when the going gets tough and they do it quickly.

Sprinter:  Great bursts of energy over short periods of time.  Disciplined to push ahead faster.  Knows the limits of the body and works within the bounds.  When the going gets tough, they exert one last burst of energy because they are done at the end of the lane.

Power-Walker:  Great endurance skills.  Slower than a marathoner or sprinter, but steady.  Able to cover great distances and still talk to people on the way.  Dedicated.  When the going gets tough, they power through, breathe a little harder, but always come out smiling in the end.

Rambler:  Uses small amounts of energy over long periods of time.  Not so steady, not so dependable and slow.  When the going gets tough they stop on the nearby bench to take a rest before finishing up.  Maybe even a light snooze.  Always waits till the last possible minute to get up and start moving again. Usually has to be prodded

Which one am I?

I always envisioned myself as a marathoner, in it for the long hall. "Steady as she goes" so to speak. Covering great distances for the greater good.  Working smoothly, fluidly if you will at a steady fast pace. Breathing in and out, listening to the regular rythm of my heartbeat as my muscles work together carrying my body through life. In control.  Accomplishing great things in record time.

And then reality: I close my eyes and listen my steady heartbeat only to find it beating wildly, sporadically.  I take deep breaths and try to calm down while the natural man screams out "YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO MAKE IT! DOOMED I TELL YOU DOOMED! GIVE UP WHILE YOU STILL HAVE STRENGTH IN YOUR LEGS YOU DUMMY!"  Definitely not a marathoner.

As you may have guessed I'm not really talking about running here.  The course is life, the athletes ourselves.  Where do we fit in?  I have decided that for myself, I fluctuate between the Sprinter and the Rambler, never landing on the Power-Walker.  Especially this week.  I exert great bursts of energy to get through a project and as soon as I cross the finish line my brain turns to mush, my legs give out and I find myself just past the finish line with rubber-chicken muscles unable to stand up.  Out. Of. Breath.  Then the Rambler kicks in and I roll over onto the grass in the sidelines because dang it, I deserve a break!  That is until the next project rears it's ugly head and refuses to be put off any longer.  Sometimes it even has to bite me on the behind to get me going again.  And then I sprint ahead because it's the only way I'll be able to catch up.  Vicious cycle I tell ya!

Why can't I be the Power-Walker?  Slow but steady.  Always dependable, always productive.  Only occasionally out of breath?

Which one are you?

Lurking...

What could possibly be scary about a Valentine's balloon with a happy face!?

I'll tell you what, a Valentine balloon with a happy face bobbing up and down in front of your window when you get up in the middle of the night to get a drink.  That's what!

Happy February Everyone!