Family Home Evening, or What It's Like to be Eaten to Death by Mosquitos

Monday was fairly uneventful until the evening.  I had NOTHING to do during the day, so after reading a bit (The Power of Six, sequel to I Am Number Four), I decided to head on over to Blockbuster and get a couple of movies I'd been itching to see: The King's Speech (rated 14+ up here, hah!) and Jane Eyre (it has my beautiful future husband Michael Fassbender in it).  So I spent the bulk of the day watching those, trying not to focus too much on the prospect of going to Family Home Evening (FHE for the uninitiated) that night, because then I just felt like barfing.  Have I mentioned I get really nervous in social situations where I don't know many people?  Well, I do.  That shirt that reads "Ask Me About My Crippling Shyness"?  That was made for me.  So, yeah, not really looking forward to it.

Well, at about 7 I headed out the door and over to the church - it's just up the street - and almost immediately regretted not wearing sunglasses, because the sun was still very bright.  Silly me, we're in the north countries!  The Canadians may be feeling gloomy about how low the sun is, but to us Southerners it's still pretty darn high!  Anyway, I made it to the church without getting run over (it was touch and go with those buses, I'll tell you what, and it's not like I was even weaving my way through the middle of the road - I was on the sidewalk), and was heartened that the 2nd counselor in the bishopric remembered my name, and now I feel REALLY bad that I can't remember his :-(.  Anyway, after I sat down, I was cornered by an FHE committee member and asked if I'd give the opening prayer.  No big, so I said yes.  Five seconds later she's calling out to see if there's anyone who can play the piano.  So I raise my hand.  I've decided that's my thing - it's what keeps happening to me, no matter where I go - Cottonwood Ward, Crafton Hills Ward - I'm not the only one who plays, but I'm the only one there who will 'fess up to it.  I blame Brother Palmer.

So after playing the opening hymn, and a short lesson on patriarchal blessings, the girl behind me asks if I'm Cathie's niece - her mum is R.S. president in Bearspaw ward, her name is Amy, and oh happy day, she's a teacher!   I have a friend!  Woo-hoo!  We head out to the lawn, and herein lies my first true test of friendship - do I join her in the outfield of a kickball team, or sit out?  Well, no one else was allowed to sit out, so I slipped off my totally kickball-inappropriate shoes and join her, and Angela the FHE mum, in the outfield.  We had a very nice conversation throughout the course of the game, and I have found a fellow book geek.  She even works at a book store - I'm so jealous!

The less said about the kickball game, the better.  Suffice it to say, I didn't want to play in the first place because I SUCK at kickball, and Monday night's game only served to further reinforce said suckage.  My kicking served to advance others a base - that was all.  On the plus side, I know a few more people's names, and I have a ride buddy to activities, because Amy hates to drive and I have a car.  And she carpools with a couple of guys from the ward.  Neat!  Now, if I could just find fellow Call of Duty players, I'd be set!  (Just kidding, Mum...)

But seriously, the thing that stands out the most, both figuratively and literally, from Monday, is the mosquito bites I sustained.  And of course, I'd put on my Avon Skin So Soft like a good girl, so I could smell nice but still repel mosquitoes.  So where did I get bit?  My head.  Like, IN MY HAIR, and don't ask me how the little bloodsuckers managed to dig through to my scalp to leave me itching welts, because it's not even like they're in an easy access part of my scalp like my part, no, they're ALL OVER.  The two exceptions are the one that's on my forehead, near my hairline, but not covered by it - no, that one just looks like a gigantic, angry zit - I've been letting my hair fall freely over that half of my face the past couple of days - and the one right at the joint where my thumb meets my hand.  Still not sure how I didn't notice THAT one happening, especially since I felt the little vampires every time they got me on my head.  I'd managed to go nearly two weeks without a bite - even after a walk through the parks at dusk - and in one evening I more than made up for it.  Then I got to walk through swarms of No-See-Ums on my way home, and after the second or third swarm, I was ready to take my chances with the buses and walk down the middle of the road, as far from the greenery on each side as I could get - but I don't wanna die just yet, so I opted for the safer, but infinitely more irritating, route.  Also, I saw a couple more snowshoe hares, and yeah, the one from the other night?  Not that big.  I kind of wanted to walk closer to one that was nibbling near some geese, but then I realized that, if the geese didn't peck me to death, the hare might actually be able to bite my leg off with his sharp pointy teeth!  So I stayed away, made it home safely, and applied AfterBite to the bites I could feel.  A good night :-).