Latter-Day Prophets

So, Channing led the Primary in "Latter-Day Prophets" for the opening song last Sunday, ending with "Gordon B. Hinkley leads today, we hear and honor his word today" or something (I'm still tempted to end with Spencer W. Kimball). After the song, Channing asked, "And who is our prophet today?" and Ruby replied, "Gordon B. Hinkley." I didn't think anything of it at the time.

Then, Sunday night around 8:45, James logs onto the internet and says, "Oh, President Hinkley died," and I felt a big chunk of my adolescence break off and fall into the past. President Hinkley was called to be the prophet (of the LDS church) when I was almost 15, and I kinda feel like much of my testimony of "latter-day prophets" was based on seeing him and his strength as a prophet. I really have a testimony that he was called of God to lead us in these days. I remember seeing him at a Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert when James and I were living in Utah the year before we got married. We saw Sister Hinkley and some of their grandchildren sitting near the front, and the everyone started to stand as the Prophet of the Lord came in to sit with hi wife. We saw Sister Hinkley chiding her husband for "ruining their 'girls night out.'" What a cute couple. I'm glad that he's able to be with her again, but I shall miss him as our leader.

Although as a child I often looked forward to hearing President Monson's Conference talks, it was more because he told good stories than anything concerning his leadership abilities. Of course, now that I begin to reflect further back, I recall not feeling very confident in President Hinkley's leadership abilities back in the days of President Benson (President Hunter's time as prophet was too short for much reflection), but I soon learned to love and follow him. Perhaps the same shall be the case for President Monson. The Lord has invited us to ask for confirmation of things such as this, and I have plenty of time before he gets called in April to do just that.

Talk to me!

Maybe I'm obsessing more about these braces than I should, but I swear they make me more approachable. It's like the little metal brackets are shouting "I'm friendly! Talk to me!" or something. Yesterday at clinicals, I got the "friendly elevator conversation" every time I got on, and this evening when James and I were waiting to pick up a pizza, this fellow started chatting it up with me about everything and nothing. Now, I know Oregonians are friendly folk, and it's not like this is the first time anyone has ever started up a friendly conversation, but the frequency of occurance has increased in the last week to the point that even James thought it was a bit uncanny.

Not that it's a bad thing. Just inexplicable. Perhaps I naturally have an aloof expression (a friend that I had in high school once told me that she thought I was such a snob in junior high when I was actually just mind-numbingly shy) and the braces tone it down to friendly face. In any case, I'll take it. At least I don't look like I'm 14, like one of the nurses on my clinical floor with braces does, and she's 29. Thus, I get approached, but I still get the respect I deserve, which, for a nursing student, isn't much, but again, I'll take what I can get.

Braces

Today was the day.

James insists that I look cute with braces, but I know it will look even better when all the brackets are in a line. Now they are each centered on their individual teeth, but the teeth themselves are all over the place (thus, the "need" for braces). It took 2 1/2 hours to apply the brackets, place the top wire, have Bart (Dr. Carter to everyone else) change his mind and take off the top wire, apple two "buttons" (brackets on the inside of the teeth) and attach "chains" (chain-shaped rubber bands) inside and out on both sides of the top and outside on both sides of the bottom, remove one side on the bottom (to straighten my midline, or something), place a wire on the bottom, explain how to brush, floss, and manage mouth irritations, and send me on my way. Whew!

I got out of the ortho office and had to put on some make-up, I felt so "Ugly Betty" (the TV show, not my fabulous mommers). Then, I called Mark, my hair stylist, on the drive back to Portland (talking on my cell phone on the highway, but it was obviously an emergency!) for an afternoon appointment. The final result (taken on my webcam, so please forgive the poor resolution):





I'll admit, I'm getting used to the look. Maybe next time, I'll get royal blue bands to match my nursing school scrubs.

Little White Lie

So our next-door neighbors and long-time friends have started this photography business. They took some family pics of James's family over Thanksgiving (and I have yet to post pics of that), and managed to make it look like almost everyone was having a good time. A few weeks ago, they asked James and myself if we would mind modeling some wedding shots to add to their portfolio before Wedding Season is upon us. Since I still fit into my dress, and James his suit, we were game.

It was bitter cold on New Year's Day, but clear, and our friends bought us hot drinks from Starbucks to sip between shots. They promised us copies of the shoot, so I'll finally get to have those pictures of James and me at the reflecting pool outside the Portland Temple, as it was raining on our wedding day and our photographer was an amateur friend-of-a-friend, working on a budget. True, my hair is shorter and styled differently, and James's hair is longer and he has a beard, but it will just serve to weird our kids out in the years to come. At least I got to wear my wedding dress more than once, even if I wasn't a "blushing bride" the second time around. I gotta admit, we're SUCH a cute couple!













Credit where credit is due: http://reversedlensphotography.com/

After the shoot, we got home to see that Little Boy New Year had come to our house. This is apparently a Ritzman tradition, in which Little Boy New Year comes in the night between the years and leaves small gifts for the family. His speciality is filling in the gaps that Santa apparently overlooked, but in the event that Santa was especially thoughtful in any given year, LBNY brings a "bonus" gift. This can either compliment Santa's gift or help you with any resolutions you've made for the coming year, like the calendar I got to track how often I go to the gym. My other resolution was to quit teasing James about having babies until I was serious about it and out of school, so Little Boy New Year must have had a mischevious moment to get me a Baby calendar. That little rascal...