Who moved my cheese?

I'm not sure which cosmic committee decided I needed a good shake up but shaken up things have become nevertheless -- all jumbly jumbled like this sentence.

Minor contributors to this epileptic seizure-ing are some things I've learned recently:

1. There are bears in Michigan!

Yes, yes, this may not come as a surprise to any of you. I, however, was never warned of dangers in the woods during my reckless childhood. I wasn't tucked into bed with tales of people being mauled on family bike rides or Girl's Camp hikes. I was probably more wary of them while I was camping but somehow that was a different Michigan. A wilder, not-my-Michigan Michigan. So imagine my surprise last week when I found out that some marauding bear knocked over my parent's bird feeder and crushed the nut dispenser in our freaking front yard...what?? I'm actually still more inclined to believe it was a giant Great Dane...

2. There is a cabinet behind the mirror in my bathroom.

This would not be noteworthy except I've lived in my house for SIX years and I just discovered this a couple days ago. Seriously unbelievable. I had even recently stolen some plastic drawers that my sister left here so I could clear everything off my counter...and now this. I really could have used that space! My only excuse is that it's not your typical "bathroom mirror with medicine cabinet"...right?

3. I did not grow up a city girl.

While I recognize the ridiculous obviousness of this claim, it actually pains me to admit it. Now, no intelligent person would call Marquette a buzzing metropolis but it is the most populated area in Northern Michigan. It has a university. It has a...small...downtown. We have more than one grocery store and movie theater. We get visitors like Maya Angelou and Everclear -- remember that band? I rarely run into people I know. Which is why, when my friend who comes from a small town in central Utah -- think 500 people small -- would compare our growing up experiences, I tended to resist. "Marquette has like 20,000 people!" It's not like I biked to the corner store to buy nickel candy, for heaven's sakes! ...uh...actually...now that I think of it, I...did. Hehe. Ahem.

I've just never thought of myself as a country girl. I still don't. Marquette isn't an agricultural community. We never had our own garden or chickens or guns. I guess I just grew up believing I must have been the alternative: a city girl. They're so refined. And educated. And immodest. Everything I thought I was.

That same small-town-Utah friend came to visit Marquette with me this last summer and after a day napping on the beach, biking along the lake shore, and jumping off cliffs she remarked, "This has been the perfect Leave It To Beaver day." ...I'm sorry...what? She told me she loved her trip because it was a great small town America experience. I was genuinely a little confused. Then, after some reflection and significant time in the various stages of grief, I realized she was right.

4. A Relief Society President can select a temporary replacement in the case of poor health -- is this really allowed?

I've been serving as First Counselor in the RS Presidency since June or so and a couple weeks ago, the president was in a car accident in which she suffered a minor concussion. She's been experiencing nausea and headaches ever since. As a result, on Saturday she called an emergency meeting and (after talking to the bishop) appointed me the "interim president" so she could take 2 weeks off and rest. Doctor's orders. She is relinquishing all RS decision-making to me. Great.

I've actually been waiting for this day for a looooong time. I've already updated my ecclesiastical resume.