naughty christmas card
Jan 31st, 2010 by beth the other admin

There comes a time in every child’s life when it’s time to cut the apron strings and buy your own Christmas cards.  For me, that would have been about the time I was, say 14 or 15.  Doesn’t really matter.  Being the multi-tasker that I am, I picked my cards up one day while I was shopping at the mall.  Spencer’s had some on sale.  Cute little picture of two bears on the front.  The inside said “It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.”  Some of you may already have got the punch line.  Just keep reading.  The next weekend, I began to hand some of my Christmas cards out to a few friends at church.  I may have even handed one to the pastor.  I have tried to block that from my memory.  By Wed., the pastor’s son, who was also a good friend a just a few years older, pulled me aside.  Apparantly, the two cuddly bears weren’t as innocent as I thought.  Just one of many of my awkward moments.  My parents still screen my Christmas cards before I send them out.

Karen – FL

secret language
Jan 31st, 2010 by micah the admin

My best friend and I like to speak to each other in what we call our “secret language” which isn’t so secret in a state where half the population speaks Spanish. But we speak this language to each other when we are sure there are only people around who don’t understand and we don’t want them to understand. So the other day we were at the local Starbucks doing our homework and there was an older couple on the couches right across the way who kept on staring at us. I could see it because it was right in front of my face but my friend couldn’t unless she looked to her right. So I felt I needed to inform her of the rude people so I tell her in our secret language “nos estan mirando” (they are staring at us) in a “how dare they” tone. I said it quite loudly the first time. So my friend mouths to me, “they probably speak Spanish” to which I reply confidently that I’m sure they don’t. …so I repeat it a few more times to her as it is annoying and distracting me. Me  giving rude looks, staring back, and rolling my eyes wouldn’t stop them so I just tried to focus on my homework. Eventually they get up to leave but to my dismay they approach my friend and ask her what her shirt says. She reads them in Spanish what the shirt said (it was the name of the Christian organization we work with), and as she was about to explain what it meant, they finished her explanation already knowing the organization and language, and began to converse with us in Spanish. I didn’t say much, I only felt my face get brighter shades of red and they didn’t say much to me anyways. (They mostly looked and talked to my friend) Not only did they know people we know, they were sweet old missionaries for like 50 years. Yeah, I felt like a jerk. But I learned my lesson. I’ll never speak our secret language again in a public place if I’m talking about someone.

Rachel – SC

gender mixup
Jan 31st, 2010 by micah the admin


Back in Utah I was part of a para-military group. We’d practice marching, carrying flags, and go on evening or weekend trips assisting/presenting the flags for community activities and events. One hot summer we’d already presented the flags at the opening of the annual Scottish Games in the evening, then returned the next day to assist as needed. We had camo shirts, camo pants, black boots, and black t-shirts. It got really hot, so we were allowed to remove the camo shirts. Keep in mind I’d had my guy friends give me (girl) a military haircut, for the fun of it. So one person from our group got heat stroke. We’re hanging out at the hospital and I was standing with a few of the boys by the restrooms. I moved to enter the women’s just as a lady came out. She glanced at me and said, “Uh, this is the women’s restroom?” I grinned back and said, “I know.” She looked down at my chest, then back at my haircut, and just walked away. We all laughed about it later.

Susie – MN

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