I Skipped the Singles Ward Today

and headed to my mom's ward in Ogden.  Because that ward feels like home and there are no back rubbing idiots there.  And I needed to do laundry anyway.  And Alisa had her cousin's farewell to get to anyway.  So my better judgment took over this morning and I headed to Ogden.

And I remembered how loud the old people in her ward are and how loud the babies and little kids are.  And honestly it felt good that no one was flirting with anyone else except maybe the deacons and beehives in their own awkward way.  I sat in sacrament meeting thinking maybe I should come back permanently.  Until my mom's bishop was so happy to see me and wondered "when are you coming back, you know the primary just isn't the same without you" (thanks dude, but too many years with the CTR 5's can drive a girl mad).  And that is the moment I remembered why I went to the singles ward in the first place.  Because if you are single and mormon and female and go to a home ward then they believe primary is the perfect place for you to be.  Because otherwise, what else could they possibly do with you?

My own private utah is right.  I am on my own little island of reject flying my freak flag high.  My piece doesn't match with this puzzle.

I hope Jen wrote really stupid things to Tommy Boy on the back of her sacrament program.

The Double Edged Sword of Sunday

Work comes but five times a week.  And it starts again tomorrow (gag).  Have I mentioned that I hate my job.  Well, I hate my job.  Secretary-ing sucks.  But debt sucks more so here I am, secretary-ing.  Administrative Assistant my arse, bah, I hate euphemistic terms like that.  Domestic Goddess.  No, you're a stay at home mom.  Flight attendant.  Nope, stewardess/steward.  Live with it.

OK, so I just broke my "no more negativity" promise.  But its Sunday night and it all starts all over again tomorrow and it is hard to be chipper at moments like this.

So church today.  First off, what is it with single mormons and rubbing each other?  Are we that deprived?  Are we all each others' pets?  Sacrament meeting is that strange combination of hit and miss speakers and the petting zoo.  Because that is what they all do:  write messages on each others backs, scratch each others backs, put their arms around each others backs, massage each others backs.  I know this has been parodied in The Singles Ward and I've heard complaints about it before, but come on people!!!!

So, Tom came in late today, as did I.  We smiled the same sheepish "you're late too, huh?" smiles and whispered hi in the foyer and that was it.  The extent of it.  And I prayed he couldn't hear my sweat because that is how it started dripping.  And I kept thinking, Harper, honey, you are too old for this ridiculous crush.  You know nothing about him.  Give it up.  Oh, and his tie was atrocious.  Retro trying too hard atrocious.  Which made him all the more endearing.

Sunday school was fine because Alisa taught and she always does a great job (Alisa is my partner in crime, my sanity, and the one person on this earth who gets me, just so you all know).  Tommy Boy must have gone to another class.

Then it was Relief-a-ciety.  After the first half hour of Birthdays, Friendship Basket, New and Visiting Folks, Good News Minute, Announcements,Visiting Teaching reminders, and 2 opening songs, we had time for a 10, maybe 15 minute lesson.  I think "Why am I here?" every week during relief-a-ciety.  We waste soooooooooo much time on things that don't entirely matter.  

And then I went to Ogden for a couple of loads of laundry at moms and dinner I don't have to cook.  Which was nice because my laundry is done and she even packed me a lunch.  But it is also awful because my brother and his wife and kids come over and its always dote on grandkids (don't get me wrong--I LOVE my nieces and nephews), adore my brother for being her great son, update on my younger sister in Oregon and her pregnancy, and an unspoken serving of "Harper, why aren't you married yet and giving me grandbabies?"  She must have learned it from her tactless mother.

OK, it is late and I'm just rattling off complaints about my day.  

Signing Off,

A Loser In Her Own Private Utah