Day 58: Dreams of Oxford

Halloween Liz's parents are here, as are a set of brand-new elders. I hope this London November rain won't convince them that a mission is a bad idea. I sat and read Preach My Gospel during sacrament and felt all the more determined to finish that darn Old Testament before going in myself. Brother Eden shaved his soul patch, much to Jani's dismay. There was so much SOUL in that patch. Everyone was so antsy in Primary, and this is like the third week in a row. Some kids are really doing their best to poison the rest, I think. What to do? You can't call these boys sissies, let alone strangle them. I have to teach 8-11 next week, and I'm a little concerned for my sanity. Too Expensive After scarfing some fantastic roast beef and sweet potatoes (couldn't help it, we all were starving), I surfed awkwardfamilyphotos until the fireside started. My favorite is actually not a picture, but a letter with Thanksgiving dinner instructions to her family--sooooo awkward reading it, you're laughing, and then you think of that sad, sorry sap the hag is married to. I guess everything funny is founded in something sad. The fireside was led by head of college at Oxford, a Methodist minister, named Professer Walder. His lovely tenor voice ensured that we found his topics of interest more fascinating than usual; Rachel confessed that she knew all along that homework was a bad idea from the start and she was just ahead of the curve. At Oxford, you have one class, one professor, one booklist, one essay a week, and some really fantastic discussions are the result of reading and studying and thinking and writing. That's MY kind of study. I think that's why I want to be an Honors graduate--we get to go and experience academia through study and discussion and culture, and I love soaking in that atmosphere. All our homework is stifling creative thought, I think. If I had oodles of cash, I would love to go abroad at Oxford. But maybe I just need a really smart book club to fulfill that need in the future.