The usual suspects

So yesterday I braved the singles ward--actually, make that singles branch, for that is what it is. In Anchorage they have a couple of singles wards because that's where people are going to school and working. In Eagle River (a smaller town 10 miles away) there aren't too many reasons for young single adults to be sticking around. Unless, of course, they are cool like me and want to spend quality time at Mom and Dad's house.

Sacrament meeting was about what you'd expect, just with more hair and fleece. There was the girl in front of me who kept nestling her head on her boyfriend's shoulder. There was the girl behind me who did that soprano descant during all the hymns and I believe I've already expressed my feelings on that. (Hate.) Right up there with people who sing the hymns in their mission language. Show-offs. So, you know, I was feeling pretty much at home.

Only then it got odd. I started noticing that people kept getting up and walking out of the chapel--and not just between hymns or anything, but during the talks. From the time I started keeping track I counted 7 people get up and walk out. And that was just in the first few rows. (I was sitting closer to the front, so couldn't see what anyone behind me was doing.)

Now, seriously. Unless you have a bodily function emergency that needs addressing right that second, there is absolutely no reason why you can't sit still for 1 hour. I realize that the speakers were dead boring, but that is so very rude. I don't know what they were leaving to go do--maybe make some phone calls or meet up with their friends in the bathroom or some other 7th-grade activity. Someone needs to bring the smack right down on this bunch of antsy-britchers.

Also, I don't know how well I'm going to do in this ward (branch). I mean, everyone seems really nice and I'd like to make some friends and do stuff. But as far as the guys go, I don't think anything's going to be getting started there, onenreason being that I don't actually do anything they would find impressive. It's not something I'm agonizing over, it's just sort of a fact. As my brother introduced me to some of the guys he would say things like, "And this is the guy who helped us drag the moose down the mountain." I don't do that. I am a boring person who would rather be sitting quietly watching a play or strolling through the tame English countryside where nothing can eat you. I don't want to be all at one with the mountains and the carcasses and the big loud outdoor toys. I accept that about me. Now I just need to meet others of my kind.

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