Due to lack of other options, I attended the family ward again today. Before I went I planned on ditching out of Relief Society because my home teachers from my old ward called Saturday night and asked if they could come over after church and I had some cleaning to do before I had company. I know, I'm not perfect. But I will never again admit to saying that. I will deny it until the day I die.
So I snuck into the back of the chapel just as they were starting the meeting and I saw the bishopric's heads slam together so fast that I'm surprised more than one of them didn't go home with a concussion. I could almost hear their whispers from the back of the chapel questioning who I was and wondering if anyone knew me. You know, the typical "get your hooks into them fast" kind of attitude. Okay, so that's a little pessimistic and I know that's not what they were thinking but it makes the story more effective and seem more pathetic and thus elicits more sympathy, so just go with it for now.
When the meeting ended I picked up my bag, grabbed my coat from the back of my chair and before I managed to throw it over my arm, there was a member of the bishopric at my side. He just snuck right up on me. My eyes shot to the front of the chaple so I could quickly gauge the distance and calculate how long it should have taken him to make it from there to the overflow area. Seriously, I think this man must have had super powers or something! There's just to logical explaniation as to how he could have gotten there that quickly. Either that or he used his linebacker type physique to mow down little old ladies with their walkers.
So he introduced himself, shook my hand, made some awkward chitchat and said that the bishop wanted to meet me and asked if I'd go with him to the front so he could make the introductions. He had me backed into a corner. So I followed him as he weaved around children and canes. He told the Bishop who I was and where I lived. To which he asked, "Why is this the first time we've met you?" Uumm . . because I was in the Single's Ward. Duh. "So who are your parents?" Kendal and Sharon . . ever heard of them? "Are you related to the Hansen's here?" Somewhere along the line, I'm sure I probably am.
Two uncomfortable conversations down, many many many more to go. While I was being bombarded by odd questions a women walked up whom I assume was the Relief Society president. Honestly, I'm still unsure so we'll just call her that for now. And she started all over with the exact same questions. Only this time she threw in, "Not married?" uumm . . Nope. Hence the Single's Ward. So due to other obligations, the bishopric passed me off to the RSP like a football in a championship game. I was lead into the Gospel Doctorine class and she proceeded to make the introductions as there were only about ten people in there. This is how it went, "Hey everyone, this is Janis. She's decided to start coming to our ward because she was kicked out of her ward because she's too old." How does one respond to that?!?! Being the big mouth that I am, I said the first thing that came to mind, "Thank you for announcing that to everyone." We laughed it off and she left to go to some meeting she had.
I then started the same conversation ALL OVER again with a whole new group of people. Turns out that I'm still not related to the local Hansen family. Imagine that. There was an old man that was sitting next to me in class. I couldn't decided if it was cute and endearing or annoying but he whistled when he talked. I've decided that it was kinda cute. He cracked me up.
So because of the prior engagement with my home teachers I ditched out after Sunday School. I was gathering a bunch of stuff to take out to the trash when I saw some of my neighbors pulling into the parking lot after church so I knew I didn't have long. I loaded up one arm, opened the door and went to grab a pile of empty boxes, when my doorbell rang. It was the RS president.
She said that she felt that she had to come by and give me a hug. Really?? She thought that I had ditched out of class because she had offended me. I laughed it off and assured her that I mock my own situation enough for everyone and it would take a lot more than an awkward comment about my marital status to offend me. "We have a lot of young women in your situation in our ward." What exactly is my situation?? Is it common to be thrown out of your ward like last weeks newspaper?
On a happier note - I went to a "midsingles" pot luck dinner in Kaysville this evening. The place was packed. There were easily 80-100 people in and out of there throughout the night (and they all took their shoes off at the door, hence the picture). I talked to a couple of girls I know from my old ward who invited me to go to a SLC ward with them next week. They seem to really like it so I think I may try it. I'm sure I'll have an update for you next week. Stay tuned.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
When I Create My Own World . .
there will be NO allergies. As I stood in the bathroom getting ready for bed this evening I realized that I may have an addiction . . . to breathing. I started with not one, but two different kinds of nasal spray because, according to my allergist Asteline and Flonase actually work better together. I then moved onto the ear drops that look suspiciously like skim milk for the ear infection I have. Again, thanks to the allergies. Sidebar: who gets ear infections in their 30's anyway? After that, it's the eye drops for those dry, bloodshot eyes (you guessed it .. allergies). And finally, it was the Xyzal and the cough syrup so that I could get through the night without coughing my lungs up - that one I blame on a combination of a cold, the inversion and yup, the allergies. So standing there staring at my pathetic arsenal of medication I realized that I put something in every possible place that I could in order to get a handle on these allergies. Seriously? Should breathing really be that complicated? I think not. So, as I said before. When I create my own world there will be no allergies.
Oh, that and there will be tiny Pegasus that fly around like birds (because no one wants horse poop on their windshield) and poodle sized giraffe that will make excellent pets.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Singles Ward Part 2: Finding a New Ward
I think I need to start this post off with an informative tidbit that might give you a little insight into why I am the way I am. After all of this happened I was telling my Mother all about it on the phone while I was driving home from work (Bad, I know but don't act like you don't do it too. I've seen you.). And being the extremely supportive Mother that she is, as she laughed and mocked my life, she managed to get a few words out around the semi-stifled giggles. They were, "This is going to make a great blog post. I can't wait to read it." I've said it before and I'll say it again. Thanks for the support, Mom. Love you too.
I hope you get a kick out of my total humiliation via the Internet.
So as most of my three to four readers know, I've recently been put out to pasture. In August my new bishop announced that the Stake Presidency had decided to actually enforce the set rules of the "Singles/Student Wards" which meant that in order to attend the ward you must either actually be a student or in an institute class, live within ward boundaries and actually fit into the 18-30 age range. And for me and 63 other people in my ward alone (keep in mind this was a stake wide thing), that was a sad, sad day. Basically, they were saying, "We're sorry we failed you, but it's time to move on." However, with that they didn't give us any other options on where to attend church. We could either go to the "middle singles" wards (there are four in the Salt Lake Valley) or our Family Wards. I did my research. The closest one met in the Avenues in SLC. Quite a drive from Layton but not as far as I was going before. So on my own, I decided that I'd go check out this other ward. Unfortunately I have no friends to take with me. Everyone else that I know that's single is, of course, younger than me and still attending their own wards. And that only made me feel even more pathetic.
So I pulled up to the chapel just in time for the meeting to start but the parking lot was PACKED. Cars were lining the street for three blocks. I finally found a spot and made it in while they were singing the Sacrament hymn. I was greeted in the foyer by a little old man in his 70's. He asked if I was there for the Singles Ward. I nodded yes and and he told me that it was pretty full but that there was room in the overflow. I smiled, thanked him and moved to where I could see into the chapel. It was a sea of silver and shine (but not in a good way). The ENTIRE chapel was filled with waves of gray hair and bald heads. And when I say the entire chapel, I don't mean just every person in there. I mean that every single pew was filled to capacity with old people! They were packed in there like sardines in can, shoulder-to-shoulder. If one guy sneezed it's very likely the guy next to him would go home with a cracked rib. I couldn't believe it! There is no way this ward should have been classified as a Singles Ward. Retirement/Widows ward would have been more appropriate. So hoping and praying, I mentally begged for there to be some younger people on the other side of the room that I just couldn't see. I walked the green mile around the building (with the tears starting to well up) only to be disappointed. It just got worse. I stood there staring at my inevitable future with visions of walkers and hip replacements dancing in my head. But even then I actually considered staying because this is where I was bound to end up in the next ten years anyway. Besides, it's rude to just walk out, right? But as the guy with the tray began walking toward the foyer I knew there was no possible way. This man was in his early 50's, easily 150 lbs over weight and staring at me like fresh meat. (Yes, I see the irony there - you know who you are. Don't say it.) I'm sure he was a very nice guy and I hate using phrases like "out of your league". So I'll just say this . . we were playing TOTALLY different games. I stood there looking at him and pictured myself playing tennis (I don't really play tennis but that's not the point) while he struggled with ping pong. I know it's sad, but it's true, what went though my head was, "Oh, HELL NO!" And with that, I left.
Oh, at to add icing to the cake, when I got back to the car I got a text from my brother asking me if I'd photograph his second wedding. Thanks for rubbing salt in the wound there, brother. You're are officially right there on the top of my list with Mom. Enjoy it.
I hope you get a kick out of my total humiliation via the Internet.
So as most of my three to four readers know, I've recently been put out to pasture. In August my new bishop announced that the Stake Presidency had decided to actually enforce the set rules of the "Singles/Student Wards" which meant that in order to attend the ward you must either actually be a student or in an institute class, live within ward boundaries and actually fit into the 18-30 age range. And for me and 63 other people in my ward alone (keep in mind this was a stake wide thing), that was a sad, sad day. Basically, they were saying, "We're sorry we failed you, but it's time to move on." However, with that they didn't give us any other options on where to attend church. We could either go to the "middle singles" wards (there are four in the Salt Lake Valley) or our Family Wards. I did my research. The closest one met in the Avenues in SLC. Quite a drive from Layton but not as far as I was going before. So on my own, I decided that I'd go check out this other ward. Unfortunately I have no friends to take with me. Everyone else that I know that's single is, of course, younger than me and still attending their own wards. And that only made me feel even more pathetic.
So I pulled up to the chapel just in time for the meeting to start but the parking lot was PACKED. Cars were lining the street for three blocks. I finally found a spot and made it in while they were singing the Sacrament hymn. I was greeted in the foyer by a little old man in his 70's. He asked if I was there for the Singles Ward. I nodded yes and and he told me that it was pretty full but that there was room in the overflow. I smiled, thanked him and moved to where I could see into the chapel. It was a sea of silver and shine (but not in a good way). The ENTIRE chapel was filled with waves of gray hair and bald heads. And when I say the entire chapel, I don't mean just every person in there. I mean that every single pew was filled to capacity with old people! They were packed in there like sardines in can, shoulder-to-shoulder. If one guy sneezed it's very likely the guy next to him would go home with a cracked rib. I couldn't believe it! There is no way this ward should have been classified as a Singles Ward. Retirement/Widows ward would have been more appropriate. So hoping and praying, I mentally begged for there to be some younger people on the other side of the room that I just couldn't see. I walked the green mile around the building (with the tears starting to well up) only to be disappointed. It just got worse. I stood there staring at my inevitable future with visions of walkers and hip replacements dancing in my head. But even then I actually considered staying because this is where I was bound to end up in the next ten years anyway. Besides, it's rude to just walk out, right? But as the guy with the tray began walking toward the foyer I knew there was no possible way. This man was in his early 50's, easily 150 lbs over weight and staring at me like fresh meat. (Yes, I see the irony there - you know who you are. Don't say it.) I'm sure he was a very nice guy and I hate using phrases like "out of your league". So I'll just say this . . we were playing TOTALLY different games. I stood there looking at him and pictured myself playing tennis (I don't really play tennis but that's not the point) while he struggled with ping pong. I know it's sad, but it's true, what went though my head was, "Oh, HELL NO!" And with that, I left.
Oh, at to add icing to the cake, when I got back to the car I got a text from my brother asking me if I'd photograph his second wedding. Thanks for rubbing salt in the wound there, brother. You're are officially right there on the top of my list with Mom. Enjoy it.
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Thursday, January 8, 2009
New Year's Resolutions
So I'm a little slow, but I was sick the ENTIRE first week of the new year (still not totally over it) and didn't get out of bed for FOUR (yes, four) whole days. Good and bad all at the same time. And in hindsight, it should have given me plenty of time to write a post about my resolutions. Oops. Anyway, I've been thinking about my resolutions and actually, I hate them. Resolutions are stupid. I think we should strive to be better all of the time and not wait until a marker point to start. But whatever, I'm not judging. I put off starting that new diet/workout plan until Monday, too.
It seems like I've been making a lot of lists on my blog lately and well, I have. Deal with it . . if you don't like it proceed to navigate elsewhere now. I won't be hurt because the fact that you opened the page to start with will show in my page counter and I'll still feel popular.
I will find a better filing system for my receipts. The shoebox is not doing its job.
I will stop carrying my credit cards in my wallet. For all intensive purposes, that should stop most impulse buying. (Damn you online shopping!)
I will stop blogging on company time (as soon as I finish this post).
I will stop working during personal time (as soon as these books go to press).
I will start dating again. It's time to stop punishing all men for the mistakes of the few. Besides, they need me.
I will finally weigh what my driver's license says I weigh. Only 8 lbs to go! (Which is pretty good considering I lied to start with - but what woman doesn't? I didn't judge you, return the favor.)
I will read my scriptures daily - started last night. First time in . . way longer than I'm going to admit. But look at me go!
I will read more and play solitaire less. I think I just admitted to being a loser.
I will stop cheating on my food journal ... as soon as I find a way to eat everything I want and not feel guilty. It's so much more fattening when it's written down.
I will run at least two 5k's this year, and hopefully a 10k. Sorry Maria, I can't see any half marathons in my near future. But maybe next year . .
I will start going to the kickboxing classes at the gym. I so miss feeling like I could kick a little #@%.
I will get my finances in check so that I can buy a new(er) car this summer.
I will start doing strength training while I watch TV instead of playing solitaire. There I go, admitting to my loserness again.
I will take Chuck the Wonder Dog on longer runs (as soon as it warms up a bit and the sidewalks defrost), and actually run (most of the way).
I will stop letting others dictate how I feel about myself.
I will stop buying shoes . . okay, that's a lie. But it sounds good.
I will start taking more pictures. I've got to justify my student loans somehow.
I will then start posting said pictures so all of you can comment and tell me how cool they are.
I will stop opening so many browser windows at the same time so I'll stop getting the stupid spinning wheel of death. Seriously this post has taken twice as long as it should have.
I will spend more time with those that mean the most instead of being a recluse. Even if they live in different states (Jana, Casey and Michelle, etc etc I'm on my way - make up the couch.)
I will learn to edit myself so my blog post won't be so freakin long! But once I get on a roll I just keep going . .
I will fix up everything in my house that needs to be done that doesn't cost a lot of money, ie finish painting the banister, paint the kitchen, make my yard my own and not my dogs, etc etc.
I will be patient with the people in my life. While I rarely ever say anything . . I get really annoyed with y'all sometimes. Sorry about that.
I will lay off the sarcasm. HA! And if you believe that I've got some ocean front property in Arizona . . .
I will start writing again. And I mean REALLY writing. Not just lame blog posts that few people read (but even then, maybe I should go private - sorry, sarcasm). Maybe I'll write that book that Marion as been pushing all these years. The question is, what do I write about? I'll be taking suggestions via blog comments.
I will find a new ward - and like it. Or at least appear to. I may even try to talk to people.
I will stop rambling about nothing . . . . . .
It seems like I've been making a lot of lists on my blog lately and well, I have. Deal with it . . if you don't like it proceed to navigate elsewhere now. I won't be hurt because the fact that you opened the page to start with will show in my page counter and I'll still feel popular.
I will find a better filing system for my receipts. The shoebox is not doing its job.
I will stop carrying my credit cards in my wallet. For all intensive purposes, that should stop most impulse buying. (Damn you online shopping!)
I will stop blogging on company time (as soon as I finish this post).
I will stop working during personal time (as soon as these books go to press).
I will start dating again. It's time to stop punishing all men for the mistakes of the few. Besides, they need me.
I will finally weigh what my driver's license says I weigh. Only 8 lbs to go! (Which is pretty good considering I lied to start with - but what woman doesn't? I didn't judge you, return the favor.)
I will read my scriptures daily - started last night. First time in . . way longer than I'm going to admit. But look at me go!
I will read more and play solitaire less. I think I just admitted to being a loser.
I will stop cheating on my food journal ... as soon as I find a way to eat everything I want and not feel guilty. It's so much more fattening when it's written down.
I will run at least two 5k's this year, and hopefully a 10k. Sorry Maria, I can't see any half marathons in my near future. But maybe next year . .
I will start going to the kickboxing classes at the gym. I so miss feeling like I could kick a little #@%.
I will get my finances in check so that I can buy a new(er) car this summer.
I will start doing strength training while I watch TV instead of playing solitaire. There I go, admitting to my loserness again.
I will take Chuck the Wonder Dog on longer runs (as soon as it warms up a bit and the sidewalks defrost), and actually run (most of the way).
I will stop letting others dictate how I feel about myself.
I will stop buying shoes . . okay, that's a lie. But it sounds good.
I will start taking more pictures. I've got to justify my student loans somehow.
I will then start posting said pictures so all of you can comment and tell me how cool they are.
I will stop opening so many browser windows at the same time so I'll stop getting the stupid spinning wheel of death. Seriously this post has taken twice as long as it should have.
I will spend more time with those that mean the most instead of being a recluse. Even if they live in different states (Jana, Casey and Michelle, etc etc I'm on my way - make up the couch.)
I will learn to edit myself so my blog post won't be so freakin long! But once I get on a roll I just keep going . .
I will fix up everything in my house that needs to be done that doesn't cost a lot of money, ie finish painting the banister, paint the kitchen, make my yard my own and not my dogs, etc etc.
I will be patient with the people in my life. While I rarely ever say anything . . I get really annoyed with y'all sometimes. Sorry about that.
I will lay off the sarcasm. HA! And if you believe that I've got some ocean front property in Arizona . . .
I will start writing again. And I mean REALLY writing. Not just lame blog posts that few people read (but even then, maybe I should go private - sorry, sarcasm). Maybe I'll write that book that Marion as been pushing all these years. The question is, what do I write about? I'll be taking suggestions via blog comments.
I will find a new ward - and like it. Or at least appear to. I may even try to talk to people.
I will stop rambling about nothing . . . . . .
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All of the true things that I am about to tell you are shameless lies.
- Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.