People will believe anything

Yesterday, I gave Kamren her piano lesson at the church. Halfway through, some women came in and began setting up for the Enrichment meeting at seven that I had been unaware of. I walked out to my car after the piano lesson with every intention of going home, when I thought "Wait a minute... maybe the bishop's wife will be there, and if she sees me there, maybe she'll go home and tell her husband and they'll decide I'm not such a heathen after all and they'll be less likely to revoke my ecclesiastical endorsement."

So I went back in. The activity was to be making plaques. Basically, the lady in charge brought in some pieces of wood, paint, buttons, and ribbons, and had cut out some inspirational quotes and pictures from calendars. The idea was to paint the wood, glue the quote on the plaque, then decorate it with ribbons. Whoop-de-doo. Thrilling. That's definitely my idea of fun... (not!) I've never really enjoyed "crafts." I always thought they were a waste of time, but in almost every church meeting I've attended for women, young women, or even little girls, it seemed all we did was "crafts" like that, where they give you two hours to make something that's good for nothing but collecting dust. I usually finish in ten minutes and have to sit around and twiddle my thumbs and try not to cause trouble for the rest of the time. But what the hey, I haven't been to a meeting in ages, I could handle one night, I guess.

So I went into the room with my best friendly smile, acting as charming as I could. About half a dozen women showed up before the lady--Michelle, I think her name was--said it was time to get started. She asked for a volunteer for opening prayer. I raised my hand and said with a perfectly straight face (I was proud of myself for not laughing), "Praying is against my religion."

There was silence for about a second. Then everyone in the room burst out laughing and exclaiming things like "Oh, you're so cute!" "You're so funny!" "It's such a joy to have you here!"

A response like that is good. That's the response I usually get from older women. ("Older" meaning at least five years older than me, usually.) What it means is that I can be a total smart alec and say whatever the heck I want and get away with it, because anything I say is going to be considered "cute." (Fortunately, in recent years, I've started to learn when I'm reaching the line and need to start getting serious. That got me in no end of trouble as a teenager.)

So for most of the meeting, I threw out my witty comments, talked to my paint bottle, and said whatever stupid comments came to mind, then contradicted myself, then contradicted my contradiction, then told myself to shut up, then started arguing with myself. The ladies ate it up. They always do.

The best part, though, was when I was gluing the paper quote to my plaque. The piece of paper got some air bubbles under it and got all bubbly and wrinkly. Without thinking, I said, "Oh look, it's all wrinkly. Like old people." My mental hand smacked me in the forehead. Half the people in the room were wrinkly-old. Without hesitating, I grinned hugely and added, "So it's extra wonderful and everyone will love it!"

"Awwww, you're so sweet!" "You have such a wonderful spirit!" "I'm so glad you're here!"

Score!