Insight

If you don't want to know a bit about how my brain works, I suggest you stop reading the blog entry right now.

If you are the slightest bit curious, this will be a shining example of Julie's inner monologue.

Last night, or should I say early this morning, I woke up from a not very restful sleep. I was laying in bed and my thoughts were just kind of wandering as I was hoping to fall back asleep quickly. First I thought about the primary kids I taught in Plum Creek Ward (See blog entry here) and was wishing I could see them again. I just love those darn kids. That led me to think about one particular child (Tinkerbell) who is just the cutest little princess! (Side note: After I was released from primary, I was put in as a RS teacher. My team teacher was this little girl's mom, and she's AWESOME!) I then began thinking about what calling I might be asked to fulfill in my new ward in Athens. Then I remembered the conversation that we had with the bishop when we met with him a couple of weeks ago. He asked if we knew how to operate Ham radios. (The stake informed him that he needed to have two people in the ward capable of not just the basics in Ham radio operation, but the advanced skills that require some elaborate course and test. We had of course told him we didn't have the slightest idea. He explained how the courses were organized and that the last and most advanced course would teach a person how to bounce a ham radio off of the moon. I responded with "Why would you need to do that?" and he responded with "Well, if there's a disaster, we'd need to get in touch with Salt Lake." Noted.) So I was thinking about the bishop's question about Ham radios, and his statement about bouncing it off the moon . . . .

And I pictured myself throwing a large ham at the moon, and it bouncing off like the moon is a trampoline.

The end.