COMING SOON TO A STAKE NEAR ME
by Bettyanne Bruin
Our Ward announced last Sunday that the ward boundaries within our stake would be realigned. The meeting is scheduled for next Sunday at 4:15 p.m, and thus triggered the very-much-frowned-upon-but-very-much ignored rampant rumors.
Ah, Mormons. We're so interestingly obedient, so tempted and so willing to yield. We're so "in the world and not of it, yet of it, but not too much of it, but still very much of it."
For instance, I'm in Primary today, minding my own business. Kid leans over to me. "My dad told me all the changes coming up in the ward boundaries." He even took on the tone of an adult in pure ward boundary change wonderment. This kid's dad is in the bishopric, so rule number one: never tell your Primary child "the news" because it feels so good to tell, because even they will be in certain circles where they will reveal this type of supposedly Fort Knox, secure information.
So, now I know we will no longer be attending our usual ward building, which is referred to as The Barbie Ward, I think because it is so small. As opposed to the Fourth Ward, which I refer to as "The Plastic Ward," because of all the plastic surgery, or another ward in our stake that I refer to as, The Toupee Ward, well, because you can guess why.
So, now I just learned, as my husband descended down the stairs after visiting from another member of the bishopric, that our ward boundaries will not change much, just a part of another ward will be moved into our ward. This is awesome. These people should apply for jobs as Washington leakers. Oh well, 'cause I'm really looking forward to the move now because I've run out of all the look-a-likes I can find, and I'm pretty sure there's going to be some really great Pamela Sue Andersons or that ditz that married the old man--ah, yes, my husband just pegged it for me when I asked: Anna Nicole Smith. Hurry, bring 'em on. And I'll let you know how close these pre-revelations really are to the real thing when we find out next Sunday, also now known as Funday.
K, so this week was the best: Personally speaking, Gen, this one is for you:
So, my daughter, Hilary was asked to teach an Enrichment Night class, to which she became VERY nervous because she was intimidated by so many of the sisters in this ward. So much for acceptance and sisterhood. So, anyway, she asked me to attend as sort of like her bodyguard or something, which was totally fine. I actually do love this ward and don't feel intimidated. Hilary probably only does because she's still so young and impressionable, where I am 53 and totally fine with who I am, no matter what circle I'm in. My white trash trunk always with me, I'm good to go anywhere.
So, anyway, I took a seat on one of the back rows, next to an old friend of mine. I glanced around the room, as we all do, to make sure a general authority or the wife of an old boyfriend is not in attendance, to which there wasn't ...but wait.... lo an behold, what do my bloodshot eyes see, but a "chick" seated on the row in front of me. Yes, that one, with the sugar-spun blonde hair. No way. Can't be! NO WAY! I lean over to the sister next to me. "Um, see that lady in the row in front of us... all the way to the left... seated in the last seat of that row?"
"Yes," she whispers.
"Is she in the ward?" I ask, paying closer attention to my full bladder.
"Yes," my friend says. "She just moved in."
NO FREAKIN' WAY!
K, so let's go back. If Gen is 24, then this was eleven years ago.
Gen and I are driving along, in another one of our long lines of beat up fifteen passenger vans, as I drive her to school. Cruising along Alta Canyon Drive, we pass a low-riding maroon and white Corvette with the license plate that has the word "Sugar" printed in big letter on it, and I suddenly enter a new phase of my life: Sugar is now on Earth in living color. I did not know this before this exact moment.
I look at Gen. "Did you see that?"
Better than the name, the woman driving the car looks like pure sugar, if you know what I mean. And that made this all the better. In my wildest dreams, somewhere, somehow, I would have LOVED to have been sugar for a moment myself, but I liked football and camping too much, so that category was never a part of my real life. So I say to Gen, "Lookie there, Sugar just passed us in living, driving color."
And, from this moment on Gen and I had a non-spoken pact: Every time we passed Sugar, we acknowledged it. Always a surprised, everyone once in a while when we least expected it, sure enough Sugar passed us, and it was sugar cane sweet!
"There goes Sugar!" Gen would declare and somehow mutually we knew it would be a great day and it was. I think, from that point, on there was always an eye out for Sugar, just in case.
And then it would happen: We'd pass Sugar and silence would sometimes even prevail as we began to reverence this moment. Always the same, always sweet, Sugar was a form of world stability for us in her own sweet and simple way.
Just think about it: Sugar. Can't you feel it?
So there I was, sitting quietly in my seat in this Enrichment Night and before me, just six feet away, in real life, is Sugar. Ha! What are the chances? Heaven is so awesome and filled with surprises, which is why I love Earth.
I am so jazzed at this point that I start whispering my whole Sugar story to my friend. She doesn't seem to be as mesmerized by this strange phenomenon as me, so I decided I cannot rely on the arm of her flesh and I begin to make a plan... to meet Sugar. After the class, I find my way over to her. "Hi," I say. "My name is Bettyanne Bruin. I used to be in this ward and I hear you have just moved in. That's wonderful."
I am always so checked into my seventh grade inner brat.
"Yes, I did," says Sugar sweetly. I look at her hair. It is sweetly spun in it's overbleached blonde way, set in place like it has been sprayed with Karo syrup. Her clothes are also very sugary in their professional business suit/tramp sort of way. And her voice is very soft and sweet to match. Oh, and she weighs about 90 pounds. And I am so dadblameit proud of myself for stepping up to the dessert plate on this one. "Well, it's nice to meet you. And where did you say you live?"
She smiles and I know it's going to be a good day tomorrow. "Oh, we just bought my father-in-laws house."
"That's awesome," I say. "And who's your father-in-law?"
And then she told me.
Oh, Vieve! Where are you when I need you most? I cannot post his name, but think, think back. He was a former librarian in the ward, loves country western dancing and lives in a white house across the street from our house...with a gym! Yes! Sugar is his offspring's wife! Isn't that the best info on Earth so far? Don't you love it? Don't die, Vieve! Don't pee your pants! Just love it 'cause this is the real stuff life is really made of here on Earth.
And thank you, Sugar, for the confection layer you've always added to my life. I didn't have the guts to really push my inner brat on her and ask if she still drove her corvette.
More:
This reminds me of last year:
A new man moved into our ward and immediately my husband hated him with a passion, which was really fun. Because this type of hatred is made of pure male passion, which is hard to find--that male hatred that some men have for a man like this because a man like this is a bragger which most men have to fight so hard to not be, so when they find one that gets away with it, they don't know what to do but HATE him with a passion! Fro instance, this male bragger has been known to state such stuff as "While I was in the BISHOPRIC of my old ward, while reading THE STANDARD WORKS one day, following my DAILY PRAYER, after buying NEW JET SKIIS from my MILLION_DOLLAR company" etc.
So, anyway, this man bugged my husband so much that I decided I had to do something about this. I had to help my husband, Kent, face this trial head on. So, because I was on the ward activities committee, I thought it might be fun and advantageous and kind of a personal Christmas present to Kent if I orchestrated having this bragger man MC our Ward's Christmas party.
One month later, Bingo!
The night of the party, as the program began, I leaned over to my husband and said, "Merry Christmas, honey. This one's for you." And out stepped Braggerman. It was priceless and I inhaled every minute of it. "Brothers and Sisters, I'm honored to be your MC for the night. While in Denver, as a member of the Bishopric and a leader in the community, I had many chances to MC events and I've humbly appreciated each offer that's come my way."
Sometimes, I envision ringing a bell every time a ward member is caught bragging within an "air of humility".
Tah-tah for now!
Yes, Gen, Kels loved the scrapbook fair. I have seen every item she's purchased, one by one and tried to cheer for each one. She totally cried when I took her to school on Friday for fear she would miss the event. Even Kent stepped in on this one, making sure to deliver her to the front steps of the Expo.
