Mosquito bites happen—even while doing the Lord's work.

I have a total of four mosquito bites.

Not bad—but, originally it was only two. So you can imagine my disappointment to receive two more. And to add insult to injury, the last two came from the same mosquito, doin' his dirty work right in front of me while I was desperately trying to defend myself and my blood.

All during sacrament meeting, I might add. Well—we were in the foyer though, Clara and I. After our second trip out (what on earth happened to my sweet baby??), I figured we might as well get cozy, me in the comfiest chair I could find and Clara locked between my iron-clad arms wriggling and whining to be released. That's when it happened. He got my finger then got my leg but by the third time around I was ready and waiting and would you believe? He still tried to get me at least two more times.

The little tyrant.

The only other real excitement for the day was that I noticed our crazy neighbor was in attendance at church today. She didn't stay long—but I have a sneaking suspicion that she may have swiped a hymnbook on her way out. But it's okay, because as of late her newest activity is to walk continuously around our apartment complex with her headphones in, serenading (at high decibels) any of us who might be lucky enough to have our windows open. So I'm thinking her alleged sticky hymnbook fingers were just to give her some new material to present us with. All for the good, all for the good.

But as I was saying. My first two mosquito bites came as a result of attending youth conference earlier in the week. I had a swell time. And by swell I mean I'm so relieved it's over now. (At least it wasn't a pioneer trek, right? That's next year...gulp.) We went to see the Manti Pageant and then stayed the night somewhere in the nearby mountains at a cabin owned by one of our young women counselors. Two things: the pageant's not half bad once you get over the initial cheesiness of it all—plus the 800 dramatic hand sweeps towards the heavens. It's actually quite thorough in describing the Book of Mormon and our church's history. And the other: The Manti Temple is beautiful. I was pleasantly surprised because for some reason I thought it was one of the less-pretty temples. (To put it politically correct.) Must have been thinking of another temple.

See, look.

Manti Temple. Pretty, no?

I got a total of one hour's sleep, I believe. There's nothing like being around a bunch of spring chicks to make you feel old. But it's not like I was expecting to get a good night's sleep. I was expecting them to giggle until about 2 in the morning. What I wasn't expecting and still can't fully comprehend is that our lovely girls were up-and-at-em by 5:30 in the morning. Since when do teenagers wake up any earlier than they absolutely have to? I hadn't managed to fall asleep until around 4:30 because I was sleeping on a lumpy mattress and my allergies were somethin' else and I had a King Tutankhamun headache and people were snore-breathing and it was hot in there and I was afraid spiders were crawling on me and my two mosquito bites were itching up a storm. What they lacked in quantity they most definitely made up in quality.

Those stinkin' little tyrants.

Anywables.  Since we'd planned on everyone rousing around 9 a.m. (silly us—we thought we'd have to drag them all out of bed), the earlier-than-early wake up call jump-started our plans for the day, so we got to come home a few hours earlier. Which, no one seemed to complain about because we were all just plum tired. And I was especially pleased with the early arrival because I got to kiss my little miss, whom I had missed so very much, goodnight.

The same little miss who, according to Tom, didn't even miss me. Which I guess is good but I guess I was hoping for a little bit of an I-miss-my-mom wailing session. You know? I mean, it was our first extended time apart. But it's cool, I guess. It's cool. They had a rip-roaring good time together, that husband and daughter o' mine.