And sometimes I feel like I have a scarlet letter L on my forehead.
And sometimes I feel like John Mayer is the only one who wants me to say what I need to say.
Before I moved to Utah my dear friend, Elaine, who sent me $14.5o worth of Temple Beach, told me that in order to be happy anywhere you have to take people case by case. Don't generalize. Don't judge.
"There are cool people everywhere and you will find them," she told me.
She was right.
I have found so many interesting people--all with their charms and quirks--who don't take themselves and their "stuff" too seriously.
But then there's always that one church lady in the crowd. Somewhere. Scowling at me. Wagging her finger. Wrinkling her nose.
I think I might have finger wagging, nose wrinkling issues.
Take last week for instance, I was at my Stake YW President's lovely house sitting around her lovely dinner table eating lovely Zuppa Toscana soup with all the other lovely YW Presidents in the stake.
It was all very lovely, but I kept thinking to myself, "One of these dummies is not like the others."
And then I realized that dummy was . . . GULP! . . . me.
I'm pretty sure it was me anyway. At least that's what I thought when I asked a question and one of the other presidents said, "you'll find that answer on page 85 in the handbook."
People don't just read the handbook around here . . . they memorize it, AND cross reference it.
But most of all, they follow it.
We talked about Personal Progress, and Sister Handbook told us how successfully she was converting the other auxiliaries. The primary leaders were on board and the Relief Society sisters were too. Even some of the Elders were asking if they could earn their YW medallion. Apparently the whole ward was on fire.
"I gave away at least twenty Personal Progress books last Sunday alone," she said.
Me, I can't even convert my young women to Personal Progress.
When we talked about girls camp, Sister Handbook told us that all of their activities will be compared to the life of Christ. Horse back riding--Christ entering Jerusalem on his donkey. Water skiing--Christ walking on water.
When it was my turn, I was like, "um . . . we're going to the Tuacahn . . . to see . . . Tarzan."
If you want to silence a room full of YW presidents, tell them you're taking your girls to see Tarzan for camp.
I'm new at this gig, but didn't Tarzan live in the wilderness?
Maybe we'll swing from some vines and compare it to the vine-yard of the Lord.
When we talked about Trek, Sister Handbook pulled out charts and graphs which would help her youth prepare.
I was just going to tell them to wear sunscreen.
To add injury to insult, today wasn't the best day ever at church.
I didn't sing this song during opening exercises as I usually do because I was too busy feeling like it wasn't the best day ever.
It all started when I learned that there is a mole among us. Moles aren't rats so they can't rat you out, so to speak, but a mole has moled me out to the proper authorities in the Sponge Bob ward and I have been issued a gag order.
That's right, I have been asked nicely to stop divulging our scripts and story lines.
I guess cartoons need privacy too.
As do moles. My mole opted to remain anonymous and let the proper authorities silence me like a lamb.
On the bright side, I'm sure my mole moled me out with love. Or maybe she just hates my guts. I'll never know. I'll be forever left to wander around the halls at church thinking "Are you the mole? aRe you the mole? arE. YOU. the. MOLE?"
But don't cry for me, Argentina. I got down on my hands and knees and begged the proper authorities to please, please, please allow me the freedom of speech to say what I need to say.
Then, since I was already down on one knee, I asked them to marry me.
They said no. But yes.
As long as I stop dropping names.
I agreed and we're now living happily ever after once again.
Soooo . . . for the record, Russell and the Thornberries don't really live in my ward. And neither does Sponge Bob.
I'M DELUSIONAL PEEPS!
(But . . . psst . . . I still believe that deep down everyone has a cartoon character waiting to get out.)
(They'll never get me to deny that.)
(But you didn't hear it from me.)