This was my first Fast & Testimony Meeting in my new ward, so I took careful anthropological notes of the entire proceeding for the benefit of posterity.
Plus writing about it gives me something to do to fill up those long Sunday hours when my eyes start to burn from reading too much and I've already taken a long nap.
The weather continued gloomy and cold today. Haven't really seen the sun since last Tuesday. Most of the sidewalks are finally clear of snow, and the snowbanks are full of ice lace as the muffled rays still manage to melt the dirtier snow and leave the cleaner flakes in arcs and fluted cups like spun glass. It's quite enchanting, but no one seems to take notice of it except me.
I've noticed that most of the people I meet walking like myself have their heads bowed down, are unshaven, and sort of shuffle instead of stride. In Provo, at least, walkers are losers -- every normal person drives a car. But that may change sooner than people expect; we've had bad smog for the past 3 days and the papers report that old folk and infants are showing up in the ER in alarming numbers with lung complaints. You can no longer burn wood in your fireplace in Provo -- soon they're going to start banning cars as well. I won't be sorry.
But back to Church.
Behind me sat a little boy who was fed Honey Nut Cheerios by his mother during the entire meeting --- he sounded like a horse with the feed bag on.
In front of me was an older gentleman in a dark suit who had the worst case of dandruff I've ever seen. It reminded me of an old gag invention I used to tell friends about for a laugh -- a comb for people with dandruff that plays Jingle Bells every time they use it.
There were 9 testimonies during the 41 minutes available. 7 men. 1 woman. And 1 little girl. The little girl gave the most cogent testimony; the rest rambled quite a bit. One of the men was from Haiti; his French accent was inpenetrable although he smiled a lot.
I'm afraid that I got a bit sleepy and dozed off for a moment during the meeting. I was up at 4 this morning with a charley horse and never got back to dreamland again.
In Sunday School we went over Lehi's final words to his sons in 2 Nephi, chapters 1 & 2. The teacher wanted to know what Lehi meant when he talks about the "deep sleep" of Laman and Lemuel. I spoke up and said that it means we should pray for insomnia. The class giggled but the teacher (who wore brown shoes with his black suit -- who does that?) never cracked a smile, and refused to call on me whenever I would raise my hand to make a comment. Oh well, some people feel threatened by humor. I still managed to get the last word in at the end of class by saying, without being called on, "When you reach a certain age anything you say might be your final words -- so be careful of each word!"
Priesthood was about how adversity is our friend, helping us to appreciate things more. But by then my stomach was nibbling on my spine so I didn't pay close attention to all that was said. Instead, I scribbled some random thoughts to make it look like I was taking fervent notes:
"Resistance is futile -- when a woman is involved."
"Some people ask for more mountains to climb -- I'll settle for molehills."
"When one door closes . . . it's usually on your fingers."
"My paranoia keeps me from being anxious."
And there you have it. When I came home at 3: 45 I made myself a baloney sandwich and warmed up some Bush's Baked Beans for a hearty repast to break my fast. Now I have to wait an hour before taking my Flomax capsule for my enlarged prostate -- then battle the rest of the evening to stay awake while the medication makes me nod off every ten minutes or so.
I lead such an exciting life . . .
P.S. I did call my ex today -- got her voicemail, so left a message. Haven't heard back from her, and am kinda hoping I don't. Is that cowardliness or prudence?
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