I bet you thought we died.

I don't even know where to start. How do you blog about 3 years in a single post? I don't think it's possible. But if it is I should probably do that. We have neglected the personal matters of our life in the blog world for 3 years with the exception of a post or two. It has been over 3 years since Ireland. We vowed that we would not continue to blog about our lives (amazing as they are) (entertaining as they are) (splendid as they are) (and often sucky as they are) until our blogs about Ireland were complete. Well, basically that means we would disappear from the interwebs for the rest of our lives. Or at least until Janae gets her new laptop charger so we can have pictures for our Ireland blog. Stupid Janae. That's pretty much the only thing that has stopped me from blogging over the last 3 years. I can't wait to get back to it. So if you are ticked that there are no pictures on this blog, blame Janae. I guess the best way to summarize what we've been up to is to just forget about the first year after Ireland. That year was in Turnberry anyway so it didn't really matter. Pretty much the only thing that anyone talked to us about that year was our Ireland trip. Because they didn't know what else to talk to us about. It's like they had to talk to us because they wanted us to go to church...reactivation efforts ya know? But they knew nothing about us and didn't really care to know anything about us. So Ireland was about all they had to make that connection. So genuine those Turnberry people. Then there was Sandy, which of course we have blogged about. We got our new move in blog and may a few more. Let me just say that Sandy is the SHIZ. However, I suck at blogging about general happenings. It's boring for me and it's boring for you. (And by "you" I mean Janae...because I'm pretty sure you're the only one who is going to read this). So, I'm going to choose a single event that I think will best entertain me and you. This event has impacted my life more than you dating Scott or me dating one of my many Tinder, POF or OKCupid guys. This event out does me planning my life with Sam only to find out he's a big fat liar, all in the same month. This event has brought me more stress than the 7 million interpreting tests I've failed and the complete lack of planning on consideration Tony has for my life. This event occurred in a Riverbend YSA sunday school room today. Choosing the right Sunday school class is like choosing the right thong. You want it to be comfortable. You don't want to feel like you have a string up your crack. You want to feel like it belongs to you and you belong to it. You want to feel so comfortable that you can wear it to the gym because it doesn't feel right going commando. If you choose the wrong thong, er Sunday School class, that hour you spend at the gym, er in Sunday school class, will be the longest hour of your life. And so it was today. Sunday school class that is. Not the thong. We don't wear thongs to church. We've moved past that. We however haven't moved passed picking the wrong sunday school teacher. It's real stressful picking the right class. The class in the relief society room has the comfy chairs and from my experience usually has a pretty good teacher. The primary room used to be where it was at. So it's usually a good idea to at least check it out. So after popping our heads into the relief society room and seeing it was pretty crowded we decided to head down to the primary room. Bad. Bad decision. Glen was teaching. (I probably should have changed his name...you know, in case one of us ends up dating him...it would save us the time of editing it later on....but on the off chance that one of us doesn't date him, I think using his actual name will spark the proper memories in us so that we can relive it fully anytime we read this blog.) Sorry Glen. Most awkward lesson of all time. First of all, it was already a struggle because its the Old Testament. I struggle with the Old Testament anyway, it's just harder to understand. I wish I could properly describe the awkwardness. He talks real quiet with tons of awkward pauses...which we all know (and by all, I mean Janae and I, since we're the only two readers) makes me crazy. The class was nearly empty, and I'm sure the few people that were in there stayed because they felt bad. Like us. Now I'm ticked because I can't figure out how to describe it. The questions he asked were hard. Like really hard. Like, "Why did they carry the Ark of the Covenant at the front of the group?" and "What exactly was in the Ark of the Covenant?" You know, questions that the teacher probably should have researched before the lesson. Now one would think that maybe he asked them because he wanted to test our knowledge. I don't think that was the case. Because he waited. He waited and waited and waited for someone to answer. Of course, none of us YSA's could answer them so Brother Scott and Brother and Sister Smith had to save the day. That's pretty much how the class went. And it went. And it went. 15 minutes longer than it was supposed to. I commented any chance I could break the awkward silence. You would think a teacher would be grateful for class participation. Especially since there was so much awkward silence...but the look on Glen's face after my comments made me feel like a moron. Fortunately for us we found some crazy cool cat emoticons on Facebook that we sent to our respective boys, who thought we were cray cray. So that was pretty much it. We picked the wrong thong for Sunday school and it was the longest hour of our life.