7-8-09 "The MTC Sandlot"

First things first: I got your letter with Grandpa and Grandmother's e-mail, but I don't have it with me, so please forward. And, before I forget: 16-14 in the fifth set!!! Both Roger "peRFect" Federer and Andy "The American" Roddick have jumped leaps and bounds in my sight. Fabulous. No words; I'll save them for when my eyes have beheld the match for themselves. And now to the Fourth of July. We started out the day with gym, the sights and sounds of patriotism all over the air around us: hot air balloons, planes with banners crying "Vote for So-and-so, Provo Mayor." The tingle of Independence Day was in the air. What better activity than that classic all-American game baseball! But, alas, only softball is allowed: a worthy substitute nonetheless. Just as the game began, the cloudy blue sky let forth a steady but small stream of raindrops, slicking the grass, wetting the players, and cooling the summer morning air. Sister Hoskins and I took the field, playing center and right field, respectively. Several opposing elders took aim, hitting the ball in the infield or pop fly positions. They earn players on third and second. And then the big hitter steps to the plate. On his first sure, razor-like swing, he snaps the ball directly down the line between me and my companion. We turn and run like mad. Sister Hoskins is slightly ahead of me, but I'm gaining on her as she slows to pick up the ball. Suddenly, I see her vertical body become horizontal: a perpendicular predicament, caused by the slick, slimy grass, once only beneath her feet, now underneath her entire body. My mind grasps this thought just in time for the same to occur to me. We forget the game for a few moments and break out in gales of laughter. But not for long, becasue the other players are serious, yelling for us to return the ball, just as the batter rounds second base. I thought Sister Hoskins had the ball, but a quick check in her glove reveals the error in my judgment. To the left (to the left), I see the gleaming, glorious instrument of American sportsmanship, and my body reacts as my mind tells it to. Retrieving the ball, I throw it the second baseman, but the clean-up homerun has already been scored. My first two at-bats I strikeout, hitting a few fouls along the way. But my third at-bat, like the proverbial third time, is magic: I hit a straight up pop fly that falls in front of the pitcher's mound, running like mad, expecting an out, but the first baseman drops the catch. And I'm on base. Two solid hits from subsequent elders, and I'm home. A runner batted in. Happy Birthday, America. Also in the game, I discovered that the Elder who most resembles Hamilton "The Babe" Porter lives up to his resemblence. Three hits straight and deep into centerfield. Additionaly, our district leader has the glasses (and the surprising wit and charm) of Michael "Squints" Palidores. Here's the proof. A few days ago, one of our classroom teachers, Sister Folkman, told us her brother told her she looked like a librarian. All the sisters thought that was a compliment, bringing up Marion Paroo as a shining example. She wasn't fully convinced, but the thought was in the air. Hours later, during companionship study time, she pokes her head into the classroom. Before she can say anything, Elder Guest pipes up with this gem: "Has anyone ever told you you look like a hott librarian?" Again, only gales of laughter. Back to the Fourth of July, where we enjoyed a great presentation to be described more fully in a letter. And we got to watch fireworks (and the lights from the nearby Jonas Brothers concert). I must say, not quite Idaho Falls caliber, but the bubbles were a big hit with all the sisters, particularly Sister Jardine. I have seen Kira a few times. Once after the presentation, once on Sunday, and once during devotional choir yesterday. I also ran into Erin Knutson, who was volunteering as an Italian investigator. And in the temple today, I saw Stuart Peterson (wink, wink). I should have time for one more story. Sister Hoskins and I were joking that some Elders have fairly evident personalities. Some are Elder Transformer, loving science fiction. Some are Elder Abercrombie, loving the way they look. While in line for the 4th of July program, we met the nearest thing to Elder Abercrombie yet. He was wearing very strongly scented cologne, and as we struck up a conversation with him, he was telling us about his "obsession" (HIS WORD) with his smell. Proof that less is more, and that Hollister should stay at Hollister. Well, that's all. Expect more later, but I'm not sure about next week, since that's when I'll be flying. Love y'all, Sister Whitney Mikell Sorensen