The singles ward

Going to church with the people who have failed to launch has been in the back of my mind since I decided to move to Midvale.

When faced with an experience I'm pretty sure I'll not enjoy, my favorite game is to pretend I'm from Britain.

I think it's hilarious when I can make up any old accent and say I'm from Edinburgh and people will believe me without a second thought. Americans don't know accents well enough to place them anyway.

Plus, da ladies love foreigners.

Alas, my plan to say "alright hen?" to the cute blond sitting up front was foiled when I spot a half-dozen people I knew in high school. Problem was, I was never friends with any of them enough to want to sit close by, so I wandered the hall instead.

I was pretending to study a painting of the resurrection when a cute ginger girl comes around the corner. At first I was afraid for my soul, but then I realized it's a good friend from the year I lived in the port-o-pottie (don't ask...).

We sit on the back row of the sunday school class, catch up, and play "make-fun-of-the-new-girl-who-raises-her-hand-at-every-opportunity-to-share-an-experience-loosely-related-to-the-conversation." This is actually my second-favorite game, so my disappointment of not playing "I'm from Scotland" is quickly erased.

Apparently she just moved in too, because in sacrament meeting the bishop asked her to stand when he awkwardly introduced all the new people in the ward. I chuckled because her face went as red as her hair.

Then a thought crept into my mind: I will have to do the same thing next week when my church records arrive from Logan.