We have enough interest that the Peep Show will go on! It will be smaller than previous years, but that is okay. :)
All-O-ver, Ol-i-vore . . . we're learning that Oliver's name has some fun mispronunciations.
Also, ask him what is name is and this is what you'll hear: "My name is Oli . . . Oli . . . Oliv . . . Oli . . . I don't know."
Here I am at SFO. Again. What should have been a 40 minute layover has turned into a 5 hour layover with merely a possibility of getting on the red-eye at 10:30. Flying standby. And if I don't get on the standby flight . . . they tell me my next shot at JFK isn't for 24 hours. Yeah. So let's hope that doesn't happen. And if I don't get on standby, well, there's got to be another way home.
S: Oliver, Is Mom a child of God?
O: Yes!
S: No, Mom is a grown up!
The one night -- ever -- when Micah and I get to bed at 10:00 and could, feasibly, get 9 hours of uninterrupted sleep, Simon wakes up crying inexplicably at midnight and can't go back to sleep, Oliver falls out of bed, and we're all out a couple of hours of sleep. Clearly we need to never try to go to to bed early. It's the only way to get a good night's sleep around here.
Since we have moved here we have had more than one experience with being entirely clueless about what is being said to us. Our first week here we went to the temple. It was my second time through. And it was in Samoan. We would have enjoyed it a bit more, I believe, if our headsets had not been a little bit wishy-washy about when they worked and when they didn’t.
We have also had trouble here and there with understanding what in the world the sacrament meeting speakers are saying. I have to admit that the first month or so of going to church in a Polynesian ward was a somewhat discouraging. Not only did hardly anybody talk to us, when people did talk to us, we were hard-pressed to know if they were speaking our language. By now we are a little more used to the pidgin and only have to strain our ears a little to pick up the message. Don’t think we’ll ever be any good at speaking it. Although, truth be told, when you get Micah around his Polynesian buddies he adopts the tone of pidgin, if not the actual words. I was really excited a few months ago when one of Micah’s friends asked me, “Eh, where da kine go?” and I knew he wanted to know where Micah went.
Then, last week Micah’s intern got married and we were invited. The groom was Malaysian, the bride Taiwanese. They were married by a Samoan in a temple in the United States. We were two of the five white people in the room. Of course, this is nothing unusual for Hawaii. There are probably as many or more intercultural marriages here than there are intracultural, at least at BYU-H. The ceremony itself was in English, but the reception was a different story. The emcees were another Malaysian/Taiwanese couple, and although they tried to keep things evenly split between Mandarin and English, it sure felt like most of the time we sat staring blankly at each other while all of the Taiwanese people laughed and cheered.
Can’t wait until we all speak the language of the Lord.
Crazy beans kids, but when I looked at the languages in the corner, and then read the blog, I couldn’t help but think of our family all getting together and speaking their missions languages. Pretty sure not a whole bunch of communication would actually transpire. But it would be super interesting any way.
You’re right. Micah and Jon could talk to each other. And Dad and Isaac. But Becca would definitely be talking to herself. As would Jarom and Chris. I guess Jon might be able to get along with Chris and Will okay, but I don’t really know. And with my awesome pidgin, and your valley girl dialect, I think we would both be talking to ourselves as well.