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I know, I know. It's about time I posted again. I thought that I would post about my fabulous weekend that I had, as well as other happenings. I went up to SLC to pick up a work project and then spent the rest of the day shopping with Ma and Loo. We finished about 10:30 p.m. The next morning I had the maintenance done on my car, which only took an hour-and-a-half, (I know the punctuation is screwy on that phrase) even though we got there at our appointed time. When we got back in the car, it stunk to high heaven. We thought perhaps they had just spilled oil, so we rolled down the windows and aired out the car. We returned to Loo's house, and I chatted with S.Q. who was there for a few minutes, and then I went to hang out with Ark. Ark and I commenced with more shopping as that is what we do best together. We didn't actually accomplish a lot, but I did get a fabulous new coat that is sort of a lime green, or as FarmerBoy says "the color of a baby's poop after he's eaten strained peas". I like it--the coat, not baby's poop. I would post pictures, but my camera batteries are dead, so I cannot take a picture. Anyway, following our shopping expedition, we picked up the illustrious and cold-medicine doped MBC, before picking up pizza and going to the new Bond movie. It was good, but not as good as the last. It's hard to beat the initial chase scene in Casino Royale.
Moving on with the week. Work has been pretty slow, though I've had to deal with several angry people. I was very polite on the phone, though I was thinking mean thoughts in my head. Also, Pa looked at the car this morning and discovered that the oil cap had been left off when the oil was changed. I was not amused, nor was I impressed. I took the car to the proper place to have the oil changed (most of you know where that is), and they screwed it up. I called them up on the phone, was polite as usual, and proceeded to make the dealership aware of their error, and that they would need to come down here to fix the problem, as it was quite a distance to drive. They were happy to oblige, as they probably didn't want me suing them. When the technician got to the house, he apparently thought that it was clear out in the middle of nowhere (D'ya think? Why did you think I wasn't about to bring the car to you 70 miles away, so you could fix your mistake?) Anyway, hopefully they've refilled the oil, replaced the cap, and washed the engine.
So, there you have it--all of the excitement in my life.
Happy Trails!
P.S. If you didn't notice, this blog is written in the stream of consciousness style, my personal favorite.
So, yesterday, my Dad brought me home a flyer about a multi-stake singles' dance yesterday. On the top was all of the typical information, regarding time, place, etc. However, the amusing apart was the small print at the bottom:
"Dress: Since Brothers will be coming from LDS General Conference Priesthood and will be in Sunday Dress, we suggest everyone attend in Sunday Dress. However, dress is officially "Dressy/Casual". You can wear jeans but please remember that LDS standards of dress and conduct apply. No hats, shorts, grubbies or immodest clothing in length, style and fit. Attire must cover shoulders, chest and mid-drift to below the knee. Dresses should not lift or rise above the knees when dancing or twirling. No alcohol, same sex dancing, unkind or indecent behavior, piercing except for ladies earrings. All divorces must be final. Best dress suggested; clothing should be neat, clean and cover garment lines."
While I do have to applaud the author for their use of the word, "however" I think they went a bit overboard with the instructions.
They should have also added the following disclaimers: "Dance only with those within 15 years of your own age. Not responsible for the reactions of those in attendance. Shmoopy couples may induce vomiting. Please eat accordingly before the dance. Should you have any questions, please consult the manual immediately. This dance is not for everyone and those who are nursing or pregnant should consult their bishop before attending. Side effects include cynicism, spinsterhood, and in rare cases marriage. Organizers of this dance are not responsible for any bad experiences, but do claim credit for any marriages that occur as a result of attending this dance. "
So, my Mom kept telling me that I should go to a singles activity down here. I have lived here a year, so I decided that I should make it out to see if my suspicions were true that it was 18-year-olds and octegenarians. (sp?) Following a crappy day at work, I stuck to my decision to go to a singles activity that was announced as a Young Single Adult activity in my ward. I did make my little sister Roo go along with me for moral support, which may have been my downfall in the end. We arrived at the church and peeked in the door, seeing only old people. I decided to walk around a bit and investigate further, as I did not want to be the only one not collecting Social Security. This was me stalling. We came back and peeked in the door again. Still, I saw only old people. Roo and I stood in the parking lot deciding what to do. Roo kept saying that we might as well go in and look. I gave in. Bad decision. It was indeed all old people, but we were in too deep. They had seen us and knew that we were there. Yes, it was a typical singles activity in town. I think the person that was next youngest besides my sister and I was a member of the stake presidency and his wife who were in their fifties. I think young meant 65 or 70! (Coo, I bet this is bringing back memories of firesides at the Sands apartments for retired people.) Yes, that's right, I gave it a try, and I'm never going back, though I did laugh most of the way home. I hope you enjoy the picture above that I took at the activity (I took it with the permission of the stake presidency member, so it was o.k., though I did take it while the people weren't looking and with no flash. Yes, I was chicken. Roo and I snuck out after dinner and decided to skip the program for some odd reason.
The other day, I needed to go to the post office, but didn't want to get dressed before going, as that would require showering and getting presentable. No problem, I just went in my pajamas. I know it seems ironic that I went from worrying about being presentable to going in the P.J.'s, but some things in life just don't make sense (like the way my brain works).Don't worry. I don't wear seductive little nightgowns, like some unknown sister of mine who goes by the name of Loo. That particular morning I was wearing what I refer to as my "clown pajamas". These are basically a bright pink jogging suit, with pants that are too big and thus make me look even fatter than I am. I did brush my hair and put some gum in my mouth before going to get the mail--even I have standards!
I arrived at the post office and of course there were people there this time. (the town only has 130 people. Often there is no one but the post mistress at the post office.)No worries, they didn't look at me funny--they are probably used to me being in my pajamas at the post office. I recently made a comment to someone in a neighboring town about going to the post office in my pajamas and she replied, "Everyone does that". Apparently it is socially acceptable in small towns to go to the post office in pajamas. I have to admit that getting the mail is frequently the highlight of my family's day. Yes, we have boring lives, but at least we are easily entertained. You know, there are definitely advantages to this small town thing and going to the P.O. in your P.J.'s is one of them.
Next time: The joys of silage.
