We had a Relief Society Summer social on Wednesday, and I had a ball. (Or birdie, rather. Read on) The food, which was potluck, was excellent. There was this amazing dessert. Husband would have forgone dinner for several days for this dessert. The cook is this little old lady, so quiet and demure, who used to work for a candy company and has these great recipes. When we asked her what her dessert was called, she replied quietly, "Better Than Sex." We all howled. She didn't give me the recipe, though. Someone claimed that she won't share her secret recipes, but I think she just didn't hear me. I'm going to pester her until I get it, and then I will post it here and all of you will fall off whatever healthy diet plan you're on and become addicts, there will be an epidemic of overweight Americans who focus only on getting their next fix, and I will go to court as many of you sue me for ruining your lives.
But it's worth it. The name says it all.
After eating that lovely dessert (okay, and other good stuff, too), we found that there were all kinds of games set up for our....pleasure. Ours is an aging ward. There are some young, skinny women who have not, well, grown into motherhood as much of most of us have; nor have they been fully introduced to the joys of an aging body. They jumped up and immediately began playing water balloon volleyball ( two people grab a towel's ends, put a water balloon in the towel, and then fling the balloon over the net). Some of us in the slightly older category looked on a bit dubiously. My friend, Carol, said, "Come on. This could be fun" and we went to see what we could play. We ended up playing badminton with some other slightly older ladies, my mom included. We defined the "bad" in "badminton." I haven't laughed that hard in a long time (which only added to the inevitable sore muscles the next day). The Chinese government would have replaced us in less than a second for a team much more skilled (and better looking, I imagine) and then had us shot for shaming their country. It was great fun. I'm proud to say that I sacrificed my body for the team (I'm still spitting out grass) and I could barely walk the next day. Oh, the aching glutes.
We women can get just as giddy and silly as a bunch of teens when given the chance. The kids have to be safe somewhere else, the menfolk banished, and we have to sort of let ourselves relax and allow our naturally young and vibrant personalities out. I love being a mom and a wife, but I am still surprised that what I think of as "the younger me" is still in there, under the layers of responsibility and duty that is my daily life. Even my mom relaxed like that, and she is a woman who hardly ever allows herself to just be. She plays so many roles and has so many things on her plate, and she thinks that relaxing is wasting time -- time that she has so little of. Even Mom was laughing like a loony.
But now I need to return to my duties and responsibilities and cook dinner. The kitchen is an absolute mess, which may not surprise some of you who have seen the normal state of my kitchen, but since the dishwasher broke we've had an even harder time keeping it tidy. I could cry. Seriously. I could weep. I am hoping that Husband can fix it over the weekend, but if not, you may be reading my obituary in a couple days. Who wants to live when every dish in the house gets dirty in a matter of minutes?
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