Jessie doesn't know what he's doing. But he'll get by.

So this morning Jessie and I got a call to come meet with a member of the bishopric. Yeah. We all know what that means. Callings! We were debating what callings we'd get, but I was totally blind-sighted. Drumroll please...we're in Cub scouts. Not together, either. I'm a Weeblow assistant (how the heck do you spell that? And who comes up with these names?). And Jessie is a Cub something or other, not master, who does something unidentifiable but may or may not have to do with registration of scouts and blue and gold banquets. So off we go, to magnify and conquer, or something along those lines. Right after I look up the definition of Weeblow.

In other great news involving Jessie having no idea what he's doing: Jessie fixed our tv! We now get approximately five channels in full, blazing color. It mostly came about because a) Jessie likes to try to fix anything that breaks, because he is an endless optimist, and because b) Jessie had never seen the inside of a television before and he was intensely curious. So he unscrewed the back of the television, looked at the thing a while, wiggled a few cords and broke a few connections, and then screwed it all back together. And boom. Color. Don't ask me how he managed it. His insane good luck, I suppose...the same good luck that keeps enabling him to beat me at Phase 10. But in this case, I'm lucky vicariously, so kudos, Jessie. You are the television master. I thank you in advance for the hours of Price is Right and Judge Judy I have before me.