Graduation, part II (or the really long post where I brag about my husband and use way too many parenthetical remarks)

Last Thursday was Jacob's graduation from the Police Academy. It was a much shorter ceremony than BYU's, which was appreciated by all in the audience (and by "all" I mean "all the family members on my side who were subjected to attend both").

Getting sworn in. Or something along those lines.

 Jacob's mom and younger brother flew in for the occasion, which ended up being a very short trip for them -- they were in Utah for less than 24 hours before taking off again. It was nice that they were able to attend Jacob's graduation and visit for a little while.

Jacob with the Sergeant

After the graduates all received their certificates, the sergeant presented some special awards. Some awards were for high academic achievement, others for physical fitness. One student -- and I'm not making this up -- even received a trophy for the "fastest gunman award" (which apparently was earned after a contest of sorts involving man-shaped targets and balloons).

Jacob received an award, too: The Most Improved Shooter award. Those of you who are related to us know how hard he had to work to pass his qualifers -- he spent hours in our living room practicing his draw stroke, reloading, and dry firing at a man-shaped target on our wall. This, plus a combined family effort of fasting and prayers, helped him easily attain the required scores on his last chance to take the shooting qualifiers. So naturally, in my biased opinion, he was very deserving of the award.

At least it's a tasteful plaque instead of a trophy.



And while I'm on the topic of my husband, allow me to indulge in highlighting some of the sweet manly husbandly things he's done lately:

Thursday night, after dropping his mom and brother off at their hotel, we were exhausted and headed to bed. I couldn't find my cell phone, which doubles as my alarm clock, but I decided I would just look for it the  next morning. After all, Jacob has his own alarm clock, and I could just wake up with him.

Friday morning, his alarm went off and we both got up. I looked in the mirror and was horrified to discover that my right eyelid had mysteriously swollen up overnight, giving me the appearance of Quasimodo. Jacob hopped in the shower, being the hygenic soul that he is, and I embarked on my search for my cell phone.

I could hear it ringing, because the alarm is set to automatically go off every weekday morning at 5. I looked for it under the couch cushions, where it usually is. No dice. I pulled the couch forward a little bit to see if it had fallen underneath. Nothing.

It didn't take long until I reached the distressing conclusion that my phone had actually fallen inside the couch frame, through the crack between the armrest and the seat. I repeatedly thrust my arm into the crack, desperately trying in vain to reach my cell phone. All the while I was thinking things like "I'm never going to get my phone back. And it's going to RING forEVER and we'll go slowly mad because we can't get it!"  and "We're going to have to chop the armrest off the couch to get my phone!" (I may or may not have already been going mad at this point.)

I soon gave up my efforts and laid down, one arm dramatically strewn across my face. I looked like the Hunchback, I was still tired, and my phone was gone forever!

When Jacob came out of the shower and asked what was wrong, I told him, quite pathetically, "My phone is inside the couch and I can't get it out." And then, I started to cry. Actual tears. And Jacob, being the sweet manly husband that he is, refrained from laughing at me. He just told me not to worry about it, to make him his sandwiches (but not in a sexist, Woman! Make me a sammich! kind of way), and he'd get it for me.

The whole scene, in all its pathetic glory.

So while I tried to keep my tears from mingling in the peanut butter, Jacob set to work at hefting the couch up on its side (which is no small task, as it's kind of a beast of a couch). Before I had even finished putting the sandwiches in a bag, he set my phone on the the counter next to me and walked away without a word. Incredulous, I asked him how he had retrieved my phone. It turns out that our couch has a hole in the upholstery on the bottom, and he was easily able to get my phone through that access point.

Did I already mention that he did not once laugh at my predicament? And that he's clearly much more rational than his wife?

Okay, one more quick story in this already very long post:

Saturday we went on a major shopping trip. We stopped at five or six stores, and ended up not even buying anything until the second to last one. By the time we hit our last store for groceries, we had been shopping for close to three hours. And if you know me at all, you know that shopping is not my most favorite thing to do.

It wasn't too much longer until a switch flipped inside me and I turned into Sir Grumpsalot. I was sick of shopping, and I just wanted to go home and watch figure skating on TV. Jacob was doing his best to cheer me up, but I wasn't cooperating. Suddenly, however, he started humming a little too innocently. I looked in the shopping cart and noticed that he had snuck a package of Little Debbie Cosmic Brownies in there for me. I haven't bought them in a few months because they're overpriced and certainly not very healthy, but I do like them quite a bit. When I looked back at him, I couldn't help smiling.

Oh, Jacob. He's a peach. :)