The Ox in the Mire

What a Sunday it was.  Our hurricane blew through Thursday morning while I was in class and everyone else was at home in their jammies, drinking hot chocolate, and counting the trees as they came down.  Friday I drove home to survey the damage:  a bigger mess I have never seen - signs twisted, massive pines laying everywhere, groups of people standing and staring and hardly knowing where to begin.  My family had already cleared away our debris and that of our closest neighbors so on Saturday it was on to the rest of the ward.  Most of the neighborhood was out and we went from door to door cutting up and hauling away tree after tree after tree.  It was like caroling with chainsaws.  After two million squats it was home for homework and bed.  Sunday, we got a text bright and early:  "The ox is still in the mire, church is canceled."  And so it was back to work, in the snow no less, as we wandered our stake boundaries cutting up anything that looked remotely fragile and ready to come down.  It was glorious.  My thighs are still burning and my toes just regaining all their feeling, but I felt more on this Ox Sunday that I had in the whole month of Sundays before that!

1. Dad's glee over his very loud new toy
2. curbside pizza delivery
3. Brother Davies
4. riding in the trailer
5. "Where's Tyler?!?"
6. Dallin Wright
7. piece-meal potluck
8. cringing every time the men walked under trees being felled
9. Gretchen's ear muffs
10. Seymour, he has good taste in donuts
11. pumpkin spice donuts
12. living my religion