Trunk-or-Treat 2022

On Saturday, our ward held its annual Trunk-or-Treat activity at our meetinghouse. This year, it was combined with a chili (and soup) cookoff, as well as a costume contest for the kids and pumpkin carving/painting contest for everyone.

The chilis were delectable; I faced a hard choice as one of those asked to judge the winners. That meant tasting every chili entry, a task which produced certain, umm ... odors. But that's just the dependable guy I am! The kids' costumes were, likewise, tough to pick winners from. But we made the best decisions we could.

The Trunk-or-Treat portion itself out in the parking lot was a big hit and was very well attended from ward members and neighbors. Once again, I dressed up as Dwight Schrute from the TV show "The Office." JB was good enough to decorate our car with Dunder Mifflin stuff to go along with it. We passed out Snickers, 100 Grand, Milky Way---strictly the good stuff.

Improvables: Eleventh Annual Halloween Show

The Halloween season and Improvables together have been a winning combination for 11 years now. It's hard to believe that it has been that long!

For the first time in five years, I was not in the scheduled lineup of players for our Halloween show, which was A-OK by me. Others in the troupe need the chance to perform in the Halloween show, after all, and I'm also in the middle of some physical therapy on both aforementioned shoulder and foot injuries.

Nevertheless, JB and I attended the performance in our costumes, which were inspired by the TV show "Parks and Recreation": yours truly as Ron Swanson and JB as his true love, America/bacon and eggs. We enjoyed watching my colleagues perform from the audience, alongside our fans. Chance, Heather, Keenan, Landon, Lorin, Richard, Truman, Tyler, and MC Parker did not disappoint, as we knew they would.

After the show, we all posed for a group photo together with everyone who attended in costume.

Arbuckle Family Dinner/October 2019

Admittedly, I don't take as many photos of the family dinners for JB's side of the family. But I'm working on doing better at it. (I now get to try to do my part in capturing two family histories.)

Most photogenic of all are the kids, of course, and some are opening up to their newest Fun Uncle at different rates than others. It's a labor of love, though, and the Grantsville family dinners are always a good time.

This past Sunday, we saw Zack and Spencer re-create the "Shoulder Angel" from the BYU-TV sketch comedy show "Studio C."

Conference Breakfast/October 2018

Over the weekend, we gathered around our TV sets, along with millions of other members of the Church, for our biannual general conference. As has been tradition for the past several years, we gathered at Mom's house Sunday morning for our family conference breakfast, which included breakfast casserole, pancakes, bacon, strawberries, and other goodies.

After breakfast, we watched the Sunday morning session of conference together, enjoying the opportunity to hear from our prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, as well as some of the Apostles and other general authorities.

McKenna and Graham spent some time drawing as we listened.

This is how we roll. And we always have a great time together.

No Fooling

One of the last movies I saw in the theater before leaving on my mission (in case you've not been keeping up with Paco Nation, I'm old, folks), was Forrest Gump, and I went to see it with Mom. *SPOILER ALERT* After Jenny's death and the very somber ending, Mom turned to me as the credits began to roll and said, "I wish I could introduce them (presumably Forrest and Forrest Jr.) to the missionaries right at that moment."

This is just the kind of person Mom was and is. That's how her mind works.

Fast forward to earlier this week when, on my day off work, and while recovering from a bout of the Martian Death Flu, I watched the last few episodes of "Parenthood," a TV drama I did not watch when it originally ran on TV but which I've been following over the past few months on Netflix. In the final episode, which may be one of the all-around greatest TV episodes and finales ever produced, so many things wrapped around my heart like an anaconda, and I was bawling like a baby during the final 15 or 20 minutes. *SPOILER ALERT* What hit home most was (1) the grandfather/patriarch of the family passing away and (2) Sarah's and Hank's wedding, which was beautifully done. Most if not all of the main characters' (and even some of the supporting characters') story lines also wrapped up rather well in the process.

JB and I are in the middle of our own wedding preparations as I write this. So, of course, my brain goes there only several hundred times each day right now. It's getting real at this point. I picked up my suit just a few days ago. This is actually happening, I have to keep reminding myself. So, my heart was there with Sarah and Hank as they tied the knot.

Beyond that, though: As the four adult children and widow grieved for their departed father, I went mentally and spiritually where Mom went with the ending of Forrest Gump. Basically, I wanted to hug them and tell them: I've been where you've been. I've lost my father, too. I know your heartache. But I also know the peace, "which passeth all understanding," that only the gospel brings. This life is not the end. You can see him again!

I'm incredibly grateful for the gospel plan by which families can be sealed not for this life only but for eternity, as well, if we are faithful and give our whole souls to the great gospel plan. Because of it and because of our Savior's sacrifice, this incredible blessing is ours for the asking. And unlike the plots of both Forrest Gump and "Parenthood," this concept isn't just a neat story. It's not just something that makes me smile when I am down or a good idea. Though today is also April Fool's Day, it is most certainly no joke. It's everything! And it's what keeps me going day by day.

It being Easter Sunday, I'm reminded that Dad passed away last year just a few, short hours before the dawn of Easter morning 2017. Though it's not chronologically been a year yet, it was still last Easter, and this Easter brings with it memories of that sorrowful night. It also brings with it a reminder of the truly great gift the Savior gave to us all.

Highway to the Stranger Zone

You unlock this door with a text message, maybe an e-mail. Beyond it is another dimension: a dimension of being out of sight, out of mind. You're being dumped into a land of both shadow and forgetfulness. You've just crossed over into the Stranger Zone.

We've all heard of the Friend Zone, haven't we? Well, most of us have . . . right?

The thing is, it doesn't really exist. Not in my experience, it doesn't. It's possible, but it's quite improbable.

You don't have to go on very many dates with someone to get friend zoned. Heck, you don't even have to have gone out on a date with someone to get friend zoned. I've seen it happen. I've also seen people hire a friend or a member of the bishopric to deliver that message second hand. Maybe hired goons with brass knuckles named Vito (the goons, not the brass knuckles), I dunno.

The Friend Zone is what you get for having the "let's just be friends" talk with someone in whom you are interested romantically, right after they put your heart into a blender, mix in Chlorox bleach, leave it in the fridge for four weeks, forget about it, pull it back out covered in freezer burn, duct tape the pieces back together, and then mail it to you by carrier pigeon.

Consider this sample conversation:

Girl: I think we should break up.
Boy (feverishly checking his pockets for a receipt for the engagement ring he purchased earlier that day): Wonderful! Who needs a heart, after all? As long as we can still be friends!
Girl (while checking her Pokémon Go stats on her phone): Sure, friends.
Boy: Great! That way, I can still go with you to the movies every Tuesday. As friends!
Girl: No.
Boy: Well, at least (using air quotes) "AS FRIENDS" (meanwhile, several anxious people in the restaurant turn their heads in concern, and the manager calls for security) I can still see all your Facebook posts when you rebound within a few weeks and find a better-looking, independently wealthy guy! One with big muscles!
Girl (almost cutting him off): AND a jeep!

I don't mean to say by this that the only alternative to the Friend Zone is any kind of Enemy Zone. I'm not going to do anything rash like gun the engine and run over someone who once dumped me if I see her crossing the street, for example. But I'm really not going to be part of her life in any way, shape, or form ever again. I call it the Stranger Zone.

Nine out of 10 times this is the case, anyway. With that tenth person, your interaction tends to be limited to very casual conversation; "hi"s and "hello"s and not much more.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. I'll use a Book of Mormon example here, and it is simply that Nephi and his family reached a point in time at which it was no longer safe for them to remain near Laman and Lemuel. Namely, they would be murdered savagely. Following Lehi's death, they packed up their stuff and put a great deal of distance between themselves and their brethren. Nephi and friends still loved their brethren, cared for them, and forgave them, but they needed space.

Likewise, it can be "unsafe" for you and your heart, your emotional and spiritual well-being, to be around someone who has caused you pain or to whom you've caused pain, and making a clean break is not a bad or wrong option.

My problem with the "let's just be friends" talk, which ends up being the Stranger Zone anyway, is that people mostly don't really mean to continue to be your friend if they're rejecting you.

I once upon a time went out with a girl in my ward a few times. I thought we had a pretty good time together, and my thinking moved into the "I'd like to get to know you better" conversation in my head.

Ha ha! I have delusions of grandeur sometimes, huh? Assuming anything else was going to happen was my first mistake. I called this person after a couple of weeks had gone by, after I neither saw her at church (it's a big ward) nor received any kind of ping pong/positive contact. She did not answer, so I left a voicemail. More time passed. I called and left another voicemail. Then I heard nothing back a second time. Ultimately, and in a final effort, in case her preferred method of communication was text, I sent a text message, my "third call, that's all," and finally received a reply, in which I was told, in summation: "I see us being only friends for now."

Naturally, this is not what she really meant. I don't blame her; it's never what anyone means. It's just the way our culture has conditioned us to act, as if getting to still be friends with someone who has crushed you like a gnat is some sort of consolation prize, like going on "Jeopardy!" and finishing the game with a negative dollar amount but still getting the chance to embarrass yourself of national TV and earning a gift card to Texas Roadhouse.

I finally saw this girl at the church the very next Sunday after the aforementioned text, and she avoided/walked right past me without saying a word. You know, like "friends" would do.

I also think of the time when cruel fate placed me and a date in theater seats that were directly a row behind my ex and her now-husband. It had not yet been a year since our breakup, and in that time, she had somehow recovered from this "difficult" breakup by finding this other guy, marrying him, and, at the time of this encounter, was already showing a baby bump. And there they were there in front of me, cuddling throughout the duration of the show.

It was torture.

Nevertheless, I did not make actual verbal or eye contact with this couple of front of me because they never turned around; had they done so, I would have smiled and said hello, and then I would have let them get on with their lives. I also paid attention to the show on stage more than I've ever paid attention to any musical ever. It is possible to be in the Stranger Zone while still being polite and still being a good person.

DISCLAIMER: Before the hate mail pours in, yes, ladies, I realize that we guys do stupid, unintentionally hurtful things, too. It's a recessive gene on the Y chromosome, actually. I accept dumb things I may have done wrong, too, because I'm learning as I'm going along, just as you are. I know only my experience and how certain events have affected me; I don't know anyone else's thoughts or motivations.

Basically, what I'm saying (to anyone who cares to listen? to the chair Neil Diamond is so fond of talking to? screaming out my window like Bastian at the end of The Neverending Story?) is: Don't send someone to the Friend Zone if you don't really intend to be that person's friend from that point forward. It's okay to accept the Stranger Zone. And in many cases, it's better for both people that it be that way.

Dearth of a Salesman

The job that seemed too good to be true, believe it or not, actually turned out to be too good to be true. Go figure.

So, throughout the month, I've been back in the old, familiar, grueling, messy task of applying for, following up on, and interviewing for several job opportunities. As I write this, nothing has yet panned out, though I'm waiting to hear back from a few different places.

I loathe this whole process. I abhor it mainly because I feel like I am forced to sell myself to the employer in my interview, and I detest sales.

When I'm in an interview with a potential new boss, I feel like there is a secret word, much like the secret word on "Pee-wee's Playhouse," that they're wanting to hear, and I have to make my best guess as to what that word may be. ("Passport"?) It's like I'm playing a game of "The $25,000 Pyramid," and I'm losing. No matter how impressive your résumé might be, you just don't qualify if you don't say that magic word.

Also, I am almost to the point at which I feel like I have to make up tall tales about myself and my previous work experience in order to land the sale. Making a sale is basically my least-favorite assignment at any job. Some of you are great at it, and pats on the back to you. But there are times when I do not feel like I could sell a life preserver to a drowning man.

It's all very frustrating. Yet it's a necessary evil.

The worst part about it is that no matter what you do, achieving success is completely out of your hands, in spite of your best efforts.

It almost reminds me of, dare I say it . . . dating.

Dating: Impossible

Good evening, Paco. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to go on a date. Should you not completely botch that up, you might even someday attempt to get a second date or, heaven help us, the delusion you've had for decades now that even a relationship is possible. Let alone anything further than that.

As always, should you choose someone in your ward, or anyone else you might see on a regular basis, and any of your I.M. Force (also you) be caught saying something unintentionally stupid, thus forever putting you in the Friend or Stranger Zone, your date will disavow any knowledge of your actions and will ignore/avoid you, and possibly unfriend you on Facebook. This tape will self-destruct in five or ten minutes. Good luck, Paco.

First, though, let me rewind the tape a bit and explain where I'm coming from today.

Last weekend, as in two weekends ago now, we castaways on the Island of Misfit Toys, aka the mid-singles, the Left Behind, or the Leper Colony, took part in an annual mid-singles conference, which involved people from all over Utah, as well as folks from out of state, and even people out of the country. Those who organized it did a phenomenal job of putting things together and delivered an excellent product.

The event concluded Sunday night with a fireside at the Ute 'tute, at which I'm told 2,500 attended. The featured speakers were Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and his wife, Kristen. I was seated in the overflow, about a half-mile back from the pulpit, but technically I was in the same room as a dedicated servant of the Lord and his wonderful, insightful spouse, and we received some very helpful, very meaningful counsel.

To make a long story even longer, and I promise I'm going somewhere with this, Elder Oaks read as part of his presentation a number of letters from current and former mid-singles who, like many of us, struggle(d) with the dating scene. All but one of the letters Elder Oaks read were from the female point-of-view, I believe. One of the letters touched on what Elder Oaks called the "Peter Pan syndrome," which means that the whole dating thing largely isn't happening, and hanging out is the norm, because many men are selfish, immature individuals who instead of growing up and taking on adult responsibilities are far more concerned with "the accumulation of money, property, car, home, travel, graduation before marriage, etc." than in building a lifetime with someone else. For the first time in our country's history, he said, there are more single adults than married adults, and this concerns the Brethren.

When conversations like these arise about why dating isn't happening, single guys like myself often see the finger of blame (and not always of encouragement) pointed at us, in this and many other settings. And this is because many years ago, sometime after Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden, men lost a Rock-Paper-Scissors game to women and got stuck with the responsibility of being the gender that has to make that move and shoulders that responsibility, and thus it has been ever since.

Elder Oaks is correct, of course. I see a lot of men doing the Peter Pan thing, and I can empathize with the frustration that many ladies must feel about priesthood inaction, so to speak. So, we should own that, collectively speaking, guys. This counsel and message are intentionally given, and should be.

Nevertheless, there are always two sides to a story—are there not? Believe it or not, there are those of us who are actually trying to break out of the mold, who are trying not to be Peter Pans. We've been trying for years now, because we heard these same messages as young single adults and have been dating, or at least trying to date, for years—long before we washed up on the shore of the Island of Misfit Toys. And we are frustrated, too.

Why? Because we often feel like we are caught in a darned-if-you-don't, darned-if-you-do, no-win, catch-22 situation. We hear these calls to date, and we make an effort, and yet the end results of our attempts often leave us feeling even more disillusioned with the whole horrible, gut-wrenching process. We hear our fellow female singles wondering why they don't have dates, and after we've done what we think they asked for and have asked them out or gone on a date, we are often left feeling like asking you out was one of the most offensive things we could possibly do.

Let me stress: This particular message is largely given, I believe—and as a contrast to the intentionally given counsel from Elder Oaks—unintentionally. I'm not trying to offend or alienate anyone here, let alone my own dating pool. And I realize that I may be treading in shallow waters.

Let me give you a few examples of what I mean.

I have previously posted here on Paco Nation about the problems of approachability with some and in trying to get to know those who just don't come to activities or who appear to evacuate the building like it's on fire after church meetings conclude. We can't proceed to the dating stage if you just don't show up or if we otherwise don't get a chance to meet you first. Sometimes, even getting the privilege just to talk to some of you—and it is a privilege—can be very difficult.

In addition, we live with the conflicting messages. One side of society tells us to get busy and to get dating already, OK? The other side keeps reminding us that we're nincompoops, which can put us between a rock and hard place, self-esteem wise. As another single woman put it in a different letter Elder Oaks read: "All of the single men are like parking spots: either handicapped or far out." This is how society portrays us sometimes, and it isn't exactly inspiring once the laughter has died down.

Once we've passed the stage of getting to know you, getting to know at least a little bit about you, getting an actual date with you is not always a guarantee. A fellow single friend of mine recently lamented that he had gone on two dates the previous month, but that was after he had asked out 10 girls. To use a different Rodgers and Hammerstein reference: Sometimes, some of you can be a girl who cain't say yes.

After an actual date has taken place, getting a second date can often be as difficult, if not more difficult, than getting the first one. There are a handful female acquaintances in my ward who will no longer speak to me, for whatever reason. My offense, as far as I can gather, is my last previous social interaction with them, which was having taken them out on a date. Before going on a date, I got along swimmingly with these people. I daresay we were friends even. But now, these few go out of their way to avoid or ignore me.

So, you see, the message—once again, unitentionally—is that having taken you out is possibly the most offensive thing I could've done. The message can be: Ask for a date, lose a friend. Maybe it was a glance, a bad joke, paying with a coupon instead of forking out a whole $50 for dinner—something I've unintentionally done has disqualified me from future social interaction, and I don't know what it is or was.

For the life of me, I don't know why this phenomenon occurs or why this approach is considered more "kind" than taking perhaps 10 to 15 uncomfortable seconds to to tell me something akin to: "I just don't feel any chemistry with you"; "I had a good time with you, but I don't see a relationship going anywhere"; "I don't wanna kill you, but I will"; or some other message that leaves no possible room for misunderstanding. But instead, we play the avoid and ignore game. Society teaches us that this is "kind."  I saw the same thing occur in my YSA ward, and I see it now.

Well, that's all of the potentially-offensive-but-I-sincerely-don't-mean-it-that-way stuff I've got for now. If you have made it to this point, fellow Misfit Toys (and others), thank you for bearing with me, and I welcome your input/feedback. I realize that the bemoaning-your-singleness approach does not necessarily attract people, so I really don't intend to do this type of thing often.

I also urge you to consider that just because you may have read something that doesn't fit your experience doesn't mean that my experiences and frustrations aren't valid, just as your experiences and frustrations are plenty valid. I guarantee you that many other active LDS single men feel this way, because we have conversations about these frustrations frequently.

I cannot judge anyone else's motivations or intents, because they are known to only that person. I can, however, report on observed patterns of behavior and express how they have affected me, and I feel that's what I'm doing with this post. I'm not pointing fingers at any one person, let alone am I trying to malign the female gender. You confuse me sometimes, and I'm trying to understand why you do what you do sometimes.

Of course, if the real issue is you're just not getting asked out by the men you want to ask you out, rather than single men in general, you might try, I don't know, asking them out yourself and seeing where that leads. It is possible, and it's not viewed negatively by us gents. I recently got asked out on a lovely picnic prepared by a sister in my ward, and together we enjoyed a most pleasant afternoon together. It was thoughtfully done and was a wonderful gesture. And we have even had some conversations together after this social outing, too.

So, ladies, what I'm saying overall is: Please be kind to your active LDS single male friends who are trying not to be Peter Pans. According to conference attendance figures, we may even be an endangered species; I'm told that single women outnumbered single men at a 7-to-1 ratio.

With that plea for kindness, I remind you that we're trying (not always succeeding, but trying), per the Golden Rule, to be kind to you in return, because you are wonderful; and not to quote One Direction or anything, but sometimes you really don't know how amazing you truly are. Sometimes, you perplex the snot out of us, and trying to understand the feminine mystique remains one of life's greatest mysteries, but you really are wonderful. I look around me at the wonderful ladies in my ward each week and the recurring thought is that there are still so many of you I'd like to get to know if given the chance.

If any of you, with total recall abilities, bring up that certain Tuesday back in 2003 or 2007 when I said this or did that, and it left you feeling this way about me, well, I validate that. Our actions have consequences, whether intentional or unintentional. I'm not perfect, nor am I claiming perfection here, and neither are you. But together, with understanding and with effort, perhaps we can still somehow form a more perfect union.

*KABOOOOOM*

Improvables: The Pac-ing Dead

Last week, the members of the Improvables took new headshots because (1) they were somewhat overdue and (2) we like doing that type of thing, especially as a cosplay.

I chose to depict Sgt. Abraham Ford from "The Walking Dead" TV series.

It was enjoyable to see what everyone chose to wear, and there was a good variety of creativity on display.

As always.

Deserters and Dessert-ers

In addition to being approachable, I feel like mentioning something else tonight that I think may help those who feel like they may not necessarily be meeting the kind of people they wish to meet: be a "dessert-er" and not "deserter."

A friend of mine in the ward coined this phrase, and I use it here with his permission.

One night after institute, this friend and I were talking and were enjoying some of the cookies provided for our refreshment following that night's class. As we were doing so, he observed that a large number of those in attendance got up and headed out for the parking lot shortly after class concluded. He expressed his dismay at this, saying that he preferred those nights far more when "dessert-ers" (those who stayed around to eat dessert and socialize) outweighed the "deserters" (those who promptly headed headed home, abandoning the building as if it were on fire).

In the same vein, I had a conversation with a different friend in the ward recently who expressed this thought: "There are a lot of beautiful girls in our ward, but so many of them don't hang around after church so I can get a chance to know them better. Within a few minutes after the third block gets out, most of them are gone. There are plenty I'd like to get to know, but I'm not going to run out to the parking lot and hunt them down for the opportunity."

From my own perspective, I might add: It's okay to play a little hard to get, whatever you think that cliché might mean. But playing the Osama bin Laden version of hard-to-get makes things much more difficult for us all.

In addition to being approachable, are we lingering a little bit longer at ward or singles events?

I realize, of course, that we're all busy and have lives outside of Church-related events and that people have things and jobs and homework, and some even have kids, while others have TiVo'd programs they'd like to get home to sometimes. Sometimes.

But even if it's just a few extra minutes, consider maybe spending a little bit more time at the meat market next time you go shopping. If you're going to be a carnivore, you'll find that's where the meat is.

Disturbers and Annoyers

The Island of Misfit Toys went to stake conference this past weekend. I had to miss the Saturday night session due to a prior commitment (improv up in Clearfield), but I got to go to Sunday afternoon's excellent concluding session. During his talk, one of the counselors in the Salt Lake City mission presidency, who was visiting our stake, shared and expounded upon Joseph Smith—History 1:20, which reads in part:

"It seems as though the adversary was aware, at a very early period of my life, that I was destined to prove a disturber and an annoyer of his kingdom (emphasis added)."

I love this scripture, and I love the phrase "a disturber and an annoyer."

Many people might be offended to be called either a "disturber" (disturbed?) or an "annoyer"—but not this Paco. When it comes to disturbing or annoying of this nature, I consider it to be a badge of honor.

I recently spent some time on Facebook doing some profile stalking—like you do—in which I looked at the profiles of numerous people who once used to be my friends but who have now unfriended me.

Disclaimer: I have not ever unfriended someone on Facebook for having a different viewpoint or opinion on any matter. (If someone has been outwardly rude or insulting—the opposite of being a "friend"—then that is a different matter altogether.)

There's a few more who had unfriended than I had previously believed. And many of them, I'm rather positive, have unfriended me because of my views on political and/or moral issues. In fact, I'm certain of it.

This fact used to bother me, but it really doesn't now. I'm okay with it. My views are not shared with malice. They are not meant to offend nor to irritate but, rather, they are expressed out of love for the gospel and the Father's great Plan of Happiness, and for the joy that they bring me and my family. They are meant not to disturb or to annoy my friends but, instead, to disturb and to annoy someone else entirely.

As President Hinckley once said, "We are compelled by our doctrine to speak out" ("Why We Do Some of the Things We Do," October 1999 general conference).

The First Amendment: It's fan-tastic!

"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places (Ephesians 6:12; emphasis added)."

I've been told by some that I talk about politics a great deal. Well, I'm guilty as charged. It's because there's a great deal of spiritual wickedness in high places in our time. It's not only in foreign lands, but it's right here in the United States—in Washington, D.C., as well as locally, too. It's another reason why I speak out.

While watching an episode of the Ken Burns documentary "The Roosevelts" today, I heard this magnificent quote from one of my top 5 favorite U.S. presidents, Teddy:

"Neutrality does not serve righteousness; for to be neutral between right and wrong is to serve wrong."‪

In other words, if you're not a disturber or an annoyer, than you might unwittingly be one who aids and abets.

I can't stay neutral. I feel I must stand up for many of the things I believe. I'm happy to be among the disturbers and annoyers. And I'm trying my best not to be disturbing nor annoying in the process.

There is a difference.

Improvables: Sixth Anniversary Show

Last Friday night, the members of my troupe and I celebrated our sixth anniversary of performing together as the Improvables. It's difficult to believe it's really been that long. For this special occasion, former troupe members Brittney, Grant, Guy, Ian, and Michael returned to our stage for a one-night-only reunion show. It was good to share the stage with them again.

Some of the highlights included watching and listening to the Gibbons warm up musically:

. . . and then cool down again after the show:

Accompanied by the Gibbons, Richard performed a rap song about America as Hank Hill from TV's "King of the Hill":

Ricky was among several with memorable step-out game moments in "Tag Line":

Brittany and Ian (joined later by Ryan) put on a very funny game of "Pieces of Shakespeare":

Good times were had by all. I'm looking forward to a seventh year with the Improvables. And beyond.

A Paco for Christmas

Recently, I had the opportunity to spend part of an afternoon helping out one of my fellow Improvables troupe members at her school, where she had begun to teach a two-week intensive improv class. The day's topic was jump out ("step out") games, and together we enjoyed playing some old favorites such as "World's Worst" and "185."

You know, like the cool kids do.

Later that day, I was informed by said colleague that the kids had really enjoyed me being there for that brief amount of time. The feeling was mutual, as I had been privileged to meet some very talented, outgoing, fun-loving kids. They are, in fact, off to a rather advantageous head start at theater and improv that I never got when I was in either junior high or high school.

Until college, my theater/improv experience was, in fact, a big ZERO.

One of the students, I was also told, even remarked wanting "a Paco for Christmas" this year.

Kids . . . they say the darndest things. And, sometimes, they can also give out really nice compliments, which hopefully are a reflection of their good upbringing. That comment immediately soared into my Top 5 All-Time Greatest Compliments Ever Received list.

What's the best compliment you've ever received? Or what's the best compliment you've ever given? Feel free to post in the comments section below.

As far as getting "a Paco for Christmas" this year, well, ladies . . . we can all dream. And all this can be yours if . . . "The Price Is Right."

*rim shot*

Merry Christmas, everybody.